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If
he
did
,
these
domestic
activities
were
privately
performed
,
and
he
presented
to
the
world
the
appearance
of
a
careless
and
hospitable
millionaire
strolling
into
his
own
drawing-room
with
the
detachment
of
an
invited
guest
,
and
saying
:
"
My
wife
's
gloxinias
are
a
marvel
,
are
n't
they
?
I
believe
she
gets
them
out
from
Kew
.
"
Mr.
Beaufort
's
secret
,
people
were
agreed
,
was
the
way
he
carried
things
off
.
It
was
all
very
well
to
whisper
that
he
had
been
"
helped
"
to
leave
England
by
the
international
banking-house
in
which
he
had
been
employed
;
he
carried
off
that
rumour
as
easily
as
the
rest
--
though
New
York
's
business
conscience
was
no
less
sensitive
than
its
moral
standard
--
he
carried
everything
before
him
,
and
all
New
York
into
his
drawing-rooms
,
and
for
over
twenty
years
now
people
had
said
they
were
"
going
to
the
Beauforts
'
"
with
the
same
tone
of
security
as
if
they
had
said
they
were
going
to
Mrs.
Manson
Mingott
's
,
and
with
the
added
satisfaction
of
knowing
they
would
get
hot
canvas-back
ducks
and
vintage
wines
,
instead
of
tepid
Veuve
Clicquot
without
a
year
and
warmed-up
croquettes
from
Philadelphia.Mrs
.
Beaufort
,
then
,
had
as
usual
appeared
in
her
box
just
before
the
Jewel
Song
;
and
when
,
again
as
usual
,
she
rose
at
the
end
of
the
third
act
,
drew
her
opera
cloak
about
her
lovely
shoulders
,
and
disappeared
,
New
York
knew
that
meant
that
half
an
hour
later
the
ball
would
begin.The
Beaufort
house
was
one
that
New
Yorkers
were
proud
to
show
to
foreigners
,
especially
on
the
night
of
the
annual
ball
.
The
Beauforts
had
been
among
the
first
people
in
New
York
to
own
their
own
red
velvet
carpet
and
have
it
rolled
down
the
steps
by
their
own
footmen
,
under
their
own
awning
,
instead
of
hiring
it
with
the
supper
and
the
ball-room
chairs
.
They
had
also
inaugurated
the
custom
of
letting
the
ladies
take
their
cloaks
off
in
the
hall
,
instead
of
shuffling
up
to
the
hostess
's
bedroom
and
recurling
their
hair
with
the
aid
of
the
gas-burner
;
Beaufort
was
understood
to
have
said
that
he
supposed
all
his
wife
's
friends
had
maids
who
saw
to
it
that
they
were
properly
coiffees
when
they
left
home.Then
the
house
had
been
boldly
planned
with
a
ball-room
,
so
that
,
instead
of
squeezing
through
a
narrow
passage
to
get
to
it
(
as
at
the
Chiverses
'
)
one
marched
solemnly
down
a
vista
of
enfiladed
drawing-rooms
(
the
sea-green
,
the
crimson
and
the
bouton
d'or
)
,
seeing
from
afar
the
many-candled
lustres
reflected
in
the
polished
parquetry
,
and
beyond
that
the
depths
of
a
conservatory
where
camellias
and
tree-ferns
arched
their
costly
foliage
over
seats
of
black
and
gold
bamboo.Newland
Archer
,
as
became
a
young
man
of
his
position
,
strolled
in
somewhat
late
.
He
had
left
his
overcoat
with
the
silk-stockinged
footmen
(
the
stockings
were
one
of
Beaufort
's
few
fatuities
)
,
had
dawdled
a
while
in
the
library
hung
with
Spanish
leather
and
furnished
with
Buhl
and
malachite
,
where
a
few
men
were
chatting
and
putting
on
their
dancing-gloves
,
and
had
finally
joined
the
line
of
guests
whom
Mrs.
Beaufort
was
receiving
on
the
threshold
of
the
crimson
drawing-room
.
Archer
was
distinctly
nervous
.
He
had
not
gone
back
to
his
club
after
the
Opera
(
as
the
young
bloods
usually
did
)
,
but
,
the
night
being
fine
,
had
walked
for
some
distance
up
Fifth
Avenue
before
turning
back
in
the
direction
of
the
Beauforts
'
house
.
He
was
definitely
afraid
that
the
Mingotts
might
be
going
too
far
;
that
,
in
fact
,
they
might
have
Granny
Mingott
's
orders
to
bring
the
Countess
Olenska
to
the
ball.From
the
tone
of
the
club
box
he
had
perceived
how
grave
a
mistake
that
would
be
;
and
,
though
he
was
more
than
ever
determined
to
"
see
the
thing
through
,
"
he
felt
less
chivalrously
eager
to
champion
his
betrothed
's
cousin
than
before
their
brief
talk
at
the
Opera.Wandering
on
to
the
bouton
d'or
drawing-room
(
where
Beaufort
had
had
the
audacity
to
hang
"
Love
Victorious
,
"
the
much-discussed
nude
of
Bouguereau
)
Archer
found
Mrs.
Welland
and
her
daughter
standing
near
the
ball-room
door
.
Couples
were
already
gliding
over
the
floor
beyond
:
the
light
of
the
wax
candles
fell
on
revolving
tulle
skirts
,
on
girlish
heads
wreathed
with
modest
blossoms
,
on
the
dashing
aigrettes
and
ornaments
of
the
young
married
women
's
coiffures
,
and
on
the
glitter
of
highly
glazed
shirt-fronts
and
fresh
glace
gloves.Miss
Welland
,
evidently
about
to
join
the
dancers
,
hung
on
the
threshold
,
her
lilies-of-the-valley
in
her
hand
(
she
carried
no
other
bouquet
)
,
her
face
a
little
pale
,
her
eyes
burning
with
a
candid
excitement
.
A
group
of
young
men
and
girls
were
gathered
about
her
,
and
there
was
much
hand-clasping
,
laughing
and
pleasantry
on
which
Mrs.
Welland
,
standing
slightly
apart
,
shed
the
beam
of
a
qualified
approval
.
It
was
evident
that
Miss
Welland
was
in
the
act
of
announcing
her
engagement
,
while
her
mother
affected
the
air
of
parental
reluctance
considered
suitable
to
the
occasion.Archer
paused
a
moment
.
It
was
at
his
express
wish
that
the
announcement
had
been
made
,
and
yet
it
was
not
thus
that
he
would
have
wished
to
have
his
happiness
known
.
To
proclaim
it
in
the
heat
and
noise
of
a
crowded
ball-room
was
to
rob
it
of
the
fine
bloom
of
privacy
which
should
belong
to
things
nearest
the
heart
.
His
joy
was
so
deep
that
this
blurring
of
the
surface
left
its
essence
untouched
;
but
he
would
have
liked
to
keep
the
surface
pure
too
.
It
was
something
of
a
satisfaction
to
find
that
May
Welland
shared
this
feeling
.
Her
eyes
fled
to
his
beseechingly
,
and
their
look
said
:
"
Remember
,
we
're
doing
this
because
it
's
right
.
"
No
appeal
could
have
found
a
more
immediate
response
in
Archer
's
breast
;
but
he
wished
that
the
necessity
of
their
action
had
been
represented
by
some
ideal
reason
,
and
not
simply
by
poor
Ellen
Olenska
.
The
group
about
Miss
Welland
made
way
for
him
with
significant
smiles
,
and
after
taking
his
share
of
the
felicitations
he
drew
his
betrothed
into
the
middle
of
the
ball-room
floor
and
put
his
arm
about
her
waist
.
"
Now
we
sha
n't
have
to
talk
,
"
he
said
,
smiling
into
her
candid
eyes
,
as
they
floated
away
on
the
soft
waves
of
the
Blue
Danube.She
made
no
answer
.
Her
lips
trembled
into
a
smile
,
but
the
eyes
remained
distant
and
serious
,
as
if
bent
on
some
ineffable
vision
.
"
Dear
,
"
Archer
whispered
,
pressing
her
to
him
:
it
was
borne
in
on
him
that
the
first
hours
of
being
engaged
,
even
if
spent
in
a
ball-room
,
had
in
them
something
grave
and
sacramental
.
What
a
new
life
it
was
going
to
be
,
with
this
whiteness
,
radiance
,
goodness
at
one
's
side!The
dance
over
,
the
two
,
as
became
an
affianced
couple
,
wandered
into
the
conservatory
;
and
sitting
behind
a
tall
screen
of
tree-ferns
and
camellias
Newland
pressed
her
gloved
hand
to
his
lips
.
"
You
see
I
did
as
you
asked
me
to
,
"
she
said
.
"
Yes
:
I
could
n't
wait
,
"
he
answered
smiling
.
After
a
moment
he
added
:
"
Only
I
wish
it
had
n't
had
to
be
at
a
ball
.
"
"
Yes
,
I
know
.
"
She
met
his
glance
comprehendingly
.
"
But
after
all
--
even
here
we
're
alone
together
,
are
n't
we
?
"
"
Oh
,
dearest
--
always
!
"
Archer
cried.Evidently
she
was
always
going
to
understand
;
she
was
always
going
to
say
the
right
thing
.
The
discovery
made
the
cup
of
his
bliss
overflow
,
and
he
went
on
gaily
:
"
The
worst
of
it
is
that
I
want
to
kiss
you
and
I
ca
n't
.
"
As
he
spoke
he
took
a
swift
glance
about
the
conservatory
,
assured
himself
of
their
momentary
privacy
,
and
catching
her
to
him
laid
a
fugitive
pressure
on
her
lips
.
To
counteract
the
audacity
of
this
proceeding
he
led
her
to
a
bamboo
sofa
in
a
less
secluded
part
of
the
conservatory
,
and
sitting
down
beside
her
broke
a
lily-of-the-valley
from
her
bouquet
.
She
sat
silent
,
and
the
world
lay
like
a
sunlit
valley
at
their
feet
.
"
Did
you
tell
my
cousin
Ellen
?
"
she
asked
presently
,
as
if
she
spoke
through
a
dream.He
roused
himself
,
and
remembered
that
he
had
not
done
so
.
Some
invincible
repugnance
to
speak
of
such
things
to
the
strange
foreign
woman
had
checked
the
words
on
his
lips
.
"
No
--
I
had
n't
the
chance
after
all
,
"
he
said
,
fibbing
hastily
.
"
Ah
.
"
She
looked
disappointed
,
but
gently
resolved
on
gaining
her
point
.
"
You
must
,
then
,
for
I
did
n't
either
;
and
I
should
n't
like
her
to
think
--
"
"
Of
course
not
.
But
are
n't
you
,
after
all
,
the
person
to
do
it
?
"
She
pondered
on
this
.
"
If
I
'd
done
it
at
the
right
time
,
yes
:
but
now
that
there
's
been
a
delay
I
think
you
must
explain
that
I
'd
asked
you
to
tell
her
at
the
Opera
,
before
our
speaking
about
it
to
everybody
here
.
Otherwise
she
might
think
I
had
forgotten
her
.
You
see
,
she
's
one
of
the
family
,
and
she
's
been
away
so
long
that
she
's
rather
--
sensitive
.
"
Archer
looked
at
her
glowingly
.
"
Dear
and
great
angel
!
Of
course
I
'll
tell
her
.
"
He
glanced
a
trifle
apprehensively
toward
the
crowded
ball-room
.
"
But
I
have
n't
seen
her
yet
.
Has
she
come
?
"
"
No
;
at
the
last
minute
she
decided
not
to
.
"
"
At
the
last
minute
?
"
he
echoed
,
betraying
his
surprise
that
she
should
ever
have
considered
the
alternative
possible
.
"
Yes
.
She
's
awfully
fond
of
dancing
,
"
the
young
girl
answered
simply
.
"
But
suddenly
she
made
up
her
mind
that
her
dress
was
n't
smart
enough
for
a
ball
,
though
we
thought
it
so
lovely
;
and
so
my
aunt
had
to
take
her
home
.
"
"
Oh
,
well
--
"
said
Archer
with
happy
indifference
.
Nothing
about
his
betrothed
pleased
him
more
than
her
resolute
determination
to
carry
to
its
utmost
limit
that
ritual
of
ignoring
the
"
unpleasant
"
in
which
they
had
both
been
brought
up
"
She
knows
as
well
as
I
do
,
"
he
reflected
,
"
the
real
reason
of
her
cousin
's
staying
away
;
but
I
shall
never
let
her
see
by
the
least
sign
that
I
am
conscious
of
there
being
a
shadow
of
a
shade
on
poor
Ellen
Olenska
's
reputation
.
"
In
the
course
of
the
next
day
the
first
of
the
usual
betrothal
visits
were
exchanged
.
The
New
York
ritual
was
precise
and
inflexible
in
such
matters
;
and
in
conformity
with
it
Newland
Archer
first
went
with
his
mother
and
sister
to
call
on
Mrs.
Welland
,
after
which
he
and
Mrs.
Welland
and
May
drove
out
to
old
Mrs.
Manson
Mingott
's
to
receive
that
venerable
ancestress
's
blessing.A
visit
to
Mrs.
Manson
Mingott
was
always
an
amusing
episode
to
the
young
man
.
The
house
in
itself
was
already
an
historic
document
,
though
not
,
of
course
,
as
venerable
as
certain
other
old
family
houses
in
University
Place
and
lower
Fifth
Avenue
.
Those
were
of
the
purest
1830
,
with
a
grim
harmony
of
cabbage-rose-garlanded
carpets
,
rosewood
consoles
,
round-arched
fire-places
with
black
marble
mantels
,
and
immense
glazed
book-cases
of
mahogany
;
whereas
old
Mrs.
Mingott
,
who
had
built
her
house
later
,
had
bodily
cast
out
the
massive
furniture
of
her
prime
,
and
mingled
with
the
Mingott
heirlooms
the
frivolous
upholstery
of
the
Second
Empire
.
It
was
her
habit
to
sit
in
a
window
of
her
sitting-room
on
the
ground
floor
,
as
if
watching
calmly
for
life
and
fashion
to
flow
northward
to
her
solitary
doors
.
She
seemed
in
no
hurry
to
have
them
come
,
for
her
patience
was
equalled
by
her
confidence
.
She
was
sure
that
presently
the
hoardings
,
the
quarries
,
the
one-story
saloons
,
the
wooden
green-houses
in
ragged
gardens
,
and
the
rocks
from
which
goats
surveyed
the
scene
,
would
vanish
before
the
advance
of
residences
as
stately
as
her
own
--
perhaps
(
for
she
was
an
impartial
woman
)
even
statelier
;
and
that
the
cobble-stones
over
which
the
old
clattering
omnibuses
bumped
would
be
replaced
by
smooth
asphalt
,
such
as
people
reported
having
seen
in
Paris
.
Meanwhile
,
as
every
one
she
cared
to
see
came
to
HER
(
and
she
could
fill
her
rooms
as
easily
as
the
Beauforts
,
and
without
adding
a
single
item
to
the
menu
of
her
suppers
)
,
she
did
not
suffer
from
her
geographic
isolation.The
immense
accretion
of
flesh
which
had
descended
on
her
in
middle
life
like
a
flood
of
lava
on
a
doomed
city
had
changed
her
from
a
plump
active
little
woman
with
a
neatly-turned
foot
and
ankle
into
something
as
vast
and
august
as
a
natural
phenomenon
.
She
had
accepted
this
submergence
as
philosophically
as
all
her
other
trials
,
and
now
,
in
extreme
old
age
,
was
rewarded
by
presenting
to
her
mirror
an
almost
unwrinkled
expanse
of
firm
pink
and
white
flesh
,
in
the
centre
of
which
the
traces
of
a
small
face
survived
as
if
awaiting
excavation
.
A
flight
of
smooth
double
chins
led
down
to
the
dizzy
depths
of
a
still-snowy
bosom
veiled
in
snowy
muslins
that
were
held
in
place
by
a
miniature
portrait
of
the
late
Mr.
Mingott
;
and
around
and
below
,
wave
after
wave
of
black
silk
surged
away
over
the
edges
of
a
capacious
armchair
,
with
two
tiny
white
hands
poised
like
gulls
on
the
surface
of
the
billows.The
burden
of
Mrs.
Manson
Mingott
's
flesh
had
long
since
made
it
impossible
for
her
to
go
up
and
down
stairs
,
and
with
characteristic
independence
she
had
made
her
reception
rooms
upstairs
and
established
herself
(
in
flagrant
violation
of
all
the
New
York
proprieties
)
on
the
ground
floor
of
her
house
;
so
that
,
as
you
sat
in
her
sitting-room
window
with
her
,
you
caught
(
through
a
door
that
was
always
open
,
and
a
looped-back
yellow
damask
portiere
)
the
unexpected
vista
of
a
bedroom
with
a
huge
low
bed
upholstered
like
a
sofa
,
and
a
toilet-table
with
frivolous
lace
flounces
and
a
gilt-framed
mirror.Her
visitors
were
startled
and
fascinated
by
the
foreignness
of
this
arrangement
,
which
recalled
scenes
in
French
fiction
,
and
architectural
incentives
to
immorality
such
as
the
simple
American
had
never
dreamed
of
.
That
was
how
women
with
lovers
lived
in
the
wicked
old
societies
,
in
apartments
with
all
the
rooms
on
one
floor
,
and
all
the
indecent
propinquities
that
their
novels
described
.
It
amused
Newland
Archer
(
who
had
secretly
situated
the
love-scenes
of
"
Monsieur
de
Camors
"
in
Mrs.
Mingott
's
bedroom
)
to
picture
her
blameless
life
led
in
the
stage-setting
of
adultery
;
but
he
said
to
himself
,
with
considerable
admiration
,
that
if
a
lover
had
been
what
she
wanted
,
the
intrepid
woman
would
have
had
him
too.To
the
general
relief
the
Countess
Olenska
was
not
present
in
her
grandmother
's
drawing-room
during
the
visit
of
the
betrothed
couple
.
Mrs.
Mingott
said
she
had
gone
out
;
which
,
on
a
day
of
such
glaring
sunlight
,
and
at
the
"
shopping
hour
,
"
seemed
in
itself
an
indelicate
thing
for
a
compromised
woman
to
do
.
