70年代初一个一月的晚上，克里斯廷·尼尔森在纽约音乐院演唱歌剧《浮士德》。
虽然人们早就议论要在第40街以北的远郊兴建一座新的歌剧院，其造价与壮观 将和欧洲那些著名首都的歌剧院媲美，然而上流社会却依然满足于每年冬天在这座 历史悠久的音乐院红黄两色的旧包厢里进行社交聚会。保守派的人们欣赏它的窄小 不便，这样可以把纽约社会开始惧怕但又为之吸引的“新人”拒之门外；多愁善感 的人们因为它引起许多历史的联想而对它恋恋不舍；而音乐爱好者则留恋它精美的 音响效果。在专为欣赏音乐而修建的厅堂中，音响效果向来都是个棘手的质量问题。
这是尼尔森夫人当年冬天的首场演出。那些被日报称为“超凡脱俗的听众”已 经云集来听她的演唱。他们或乘私人马车、或乘宽敞的家庭双篷马车、或者乘档次 较低却更为便利的“布朗四轮马车”，经过溜滑多雪的街道来到了这里。乘坐布朗 马车来听歌剧，几乎跟坐自己的马车一样体面；而且，离开剧场时还有极大的优越 性（对原则开一句玩笑）：你可以抢先登上线路上第一辆布朗马车，而不用等 待自己的那因寒冷和烈酒而充血的红鼻子车夫在音乐院门廊下面显现。美国人想离 开娱乐场所比想去的时候更加迫切，这可是那位了不起的马车行店主凭绝妙的直觉 获得的伟大发现。
当纽兰·阿切尔打开包厢后面的门时，花园一场的帷幕刚刚升起。这位年轻人 本可以早一点来到。他7点钟和母亲与妹妹一起用了餐，其后又在哥特式图书室里慢 慢吞吞地吸了一支雪茄。那间放了光亮的黑色胡桃木书橱和尖顶椅子的房间，是这 所房子里阿切尔太太惟一允许吸烟的地方。然而，首先，纽约是个大都市，而他又 十分清楚，在大都市里听歌剧早到是“不合宜”的。而是否“合宜”，在纽兰·阿 切尔时代的纽约，其意义就像几千年前支配了他祖先命运的不可思议的图腾恐惧一 样重要。
他晚到的第二个原因是个人方面的。他吸烟慢慢吞吞，是因为他在内心深处是 个艺术的爱好者，玩味行将来到的快乐，常常会使他比快乐真的来到时感到更深切 的满足。当这种快乐十分微妙时尤其如此，而他的乐趣多半属于这种类型。这一次 他期盼的时机非常珍贵，其性质异常微妙——呃，假若他把时间掌握得恰到好处， 能与那位首席女演员的舞台监督合上拍，到场时正赶上她一边唱着“他爱我——他 不爱我——他爱我！”一边抛洒着雏菊花瓣，其暗示像露水般清澈——果真如此， 他进音乐院的时机就再美妙不过了。
当然，她唱的是“呣啊嘛”，而不是“他爱我”，因为音乐界那不容改变、不 容怀疑的法则要求，由瑞典艺术家演唱的法国歌剧的德语文本，必须翻译成意大利 语，以便讲英语的听众更清楚地理解。这一点纽兰·阿切尔觉得和他生活中遵循的 所有其他惯例一样理所当然：比如，用两把带有蓝瓷漆涂着他姓名缩写的银背刷子 分开他的头发，纽扣洞里插一朵花（最好是桅子花）才在社交界露面。
“呣啊嘛……农呣啊嘛……”首席女演员唱道，她以赢得爱情后的最后爆发力 唱出“呣啊嘛！”一面把那束乱蓬蓬的雏菊压在唇上，抬起一双大眼睛，朝那位阴 郁的小浮士德——卡布尔做作的脸上望去。他穿一件紫色的丝绒紧身上衣，戴一顶 鼓囊囊的便帽，正徒劳地装出与那位天真的受害者一样纯洁真诚的表情。
纽兰·阿切尔倚在俱乐部包厢后面的墙上，目光从舞台上移开，扫视着剧场对 面。正对着他的是老曼森·明戈特太太的包厢。可怕的肥胖病早已使她无法来听歌 剧，不过在有社交活动的晚上，她总是由家庭的某些年轻成员代表出席。这一次， 占据包厢前排座位的是她的儿媳洛弗尔·明戈特太太和她的女儿韦兰太太。坐在这 两位身着锦缎的妇人身后的是一位穿白衣的年轻姑娘，正目不转睛地注视着那对舞 台恋人。当尼尔森夫人“呣啊嘛”的颤音划破音乐院静寂的上空时（演唱雏菊歌期 间，各包厢总是停止交谈），一片潮红泛起在姑娘的面颊，从额头涌向她美丽发辫 的根际，漫过她那青春的胸部斜面，直至系着一朵桅子花的薄纱领的领线。她垂下 眼睛望着膝上那一大束铃兰。纽兰·阿切尔看见她戴白手套的指尖轻抚着花朵。他 满足地深深吸了一口气。他的目光又回到舞台上。
布景的制作是不惜工本的，连熟悉巴黎和维也纳歌剧院的人也承认布景很美。 前景直至脚灯铺了一块鲜绿色的画布，中景的底层是若干覆盖着毛茸茸绿色地衣的 对称小丘，与槌球游戏的拱门邻接，上面的灌木丛形状像桔子树，但点缀其间的却 是大朵大朵粉红色和红色的玫瑰花。比这些玫瑰更大的紫罗兰，颇似教区女居民为 牧师制作的花形笔擦，从玫瑰树底下的绿苔中拔地而起；在一些鲜花怒放的玫瑰枝 头，嫁接着朵朵雏菊，预告着卢瑟·伯班克先生园艺试验遥远的奇观。
在这座魔幻般的花园中心，尼尔森夫人身穿镶淡蓝色缎子切口的白色开司米外 衣，一个网状手提包吊在蓝腰带上晃来晃去，一条宽大的黄色织带精心地排列在她 那件细棉紧身胸衣的两侧。她低垂着眼睛倾听卡布尔热烈的求爱，每当他用话语或 目光劝诱她去从右侧斜伸出来的那座整洁的砖造别墅一楼的窗口时，她都装出一副 对他的意图毫不理解的天真的样子。
“亲爱的！”纽兰·阿切尔心里想。他的目光迅速回到那位手持铃兰的年轻姑 娘身上。“她连一点儿也看不懂啊。”他注视着她全”神贯注的稚嫩面庞，心中不 由涌出一阵拥有者的激动，其中有对自己萌动的丈夫气概的自豪，也有对她那深不 可测的纯洁的温馨敬意。“我们将在一起读《浮士德》，……在意大利的湖畔……” 他心想，迷迷糊糊地把自己设计的蜜月场面与文学名著搅在一起。向自己的新娘阐 释名著似乎是他做丈夫的特权。仅仅在今天下午，梅·韦兰才让他猜出她对他感到 “中意”（纽约人尊崇的未婚少女认可的用语），而他的想象却早已跃过了订婚戒 指、订婚之吻以及走出卢亨格林教堂的婚礼行列，构画起古老欧洲某个令人心醉的 场景中她偎依在他身旁的情景了。
他决不希望未来的纽兰·阿切尔太太是个呆子。他要让她（由于他朝夕相伴的 启蒙）养成一种圆通的社交能力，随机应变的口才，能与“年轻一代”那些最有名 气的已婚女子平起平坐。在那些人中间，一条公认的习俗是，既要卖弄风情，引起 男人的热情，同时又要装聋作哑，不让他们得寸进尺。假如他早一些对他的虚荣心 进行深入的探索（有时候他几乎已经做到了），他可能早已发现那儿有个潜藏的愿 望：希望自己的妻子跟那些已婚女士一样地世故圆通，一样地渴望取悦他人。那些 太太们的妩媚曾使他心醉神迷，让他度过了两个稍显焦虑的年头——当然，他没露 出一丁点脆弱的影子，尽管那险些毁了他这位不幸者的终生，并且整整一个冬天搅 乱了他的计划。
至于如何创造出这火与冰的奇迹，又如何在一个冷酷的世界上支撑下去，他可 是从来没有花时间想过；他只是满足于不加分析地坚持自己的观点，因为他知道这 也是所有那些精心梳了头发。穿白背心、扣洞里别鲜花的绅士们的观点。他们一个 接一个地进入俱乐部包厢，友好地和他打招呼，然后带着批评的眼光把望远镜对准 了作为这个制度产物的女士们。在智力与艺术方面，纽兰·阿切尔觉得自己比老纽 约上流阶层这些精选的标本明显要高一筹：他比这帮人中任何一位大概都读得多、 思考得多，并且也见识得多。单独来看，他们都处于劣势，但凑在一起，他们却代 表着“纽约”，而男性团结一致的惯例使他在称作道德的所有问题上都接受了他们 的原则。他本能地感到，在这方面他若一个人标新立异，肯定会引起麻烦，而且也 很不得体。
“哎哟——我的天！”劳伦斯·莱弗茨喊道，突然把他的小望远镜从舞台的方 向移开。就总体而言，劳伦斯·莱弗茨在“举止”问题上是纽约的最高权威。他研 究这个复杂而诱人的问题花费的时间大概比任何人都多。单只研究还不能说明他驾 轻就熟的全才，人们只需看他一眼——从光秃秃的前额斜面与好看的金黄胡髭的曲 线，到那瘦削优雅的身体另一端穿漆皮鞋的长脚——便会觉得，一个知道如何随便 地穿着如此贵重的衣服并保持极度闲适优雅的人，在“举止”方面的学识一定是出 自天赋。正如一位年轻崇拜者有一次谈起他时所说的：“假如有谁能告诉你什么时 间打黑领带配夜礼服恰到好处，什么时候不行，那么，这个人就是劳伦斯·莱弗茨。” 至于网球鞋与漆皮“牛津”鞋孰优孰劣的问题，他的权威从未有人提出过怀疑。
“我的上帝！”他说，接着默默地将望远镜递给了老西勒顿·杰克逊。
纽兰·阿切尔随着莱弗茨的目光望去，惊讶地发现他的感叹是因为一个陌生的 身影进入明戈特太太的包厢而引起的。那是位身材苗条的年轻女子，比梅·韦兰略 矮一点，棕色的头发在鬓角处变成浓密的发鬈，用一条钻石窄带固定住。这种发型 使她具有一种时下称作“约瑟芬式”的模样，这一联想在她那件深蓝色丝绒晚礼服 的款式上得到了印证，那礼服用一条带老式大扣子的腰带在她胸下十分夸张地挽住。 她穿着这一身奇特的衣服，十分引人注目，可她似乎一点儿也未发觉。她在包厢中 间站了一会，与韦兰太太讨论占据她前排右面角落座位的礼节问题，接着便莞尔听 命，与坐在对面角落里的韦兰太太的嫂嫂洛弗尔·明戈特太太在同一排就坐。
西勒顿·杰克逊先生把小望远镜还给了劳伦斯·莱弗茨。全俱乐部的人都本能 地转过脸，等着听这位老者开讲。因为正如劳伦斯·莱弗茨在“举止”问题上那样， 老杰克逊先生在“家族”问题上是最高权威。他了解纽约那些堂、表亲戚关系的所 有支派；不仅能说清诸如明戈特家族（通过索利家族）与南卡罗来纳州达拉斯家族 之间的关系，以及上一支费城索利家族与阿尔巴尼·奇弗斯家族（决不会与大学区 的曼森·奇弗斯族混淆）复杂的亲缘，而且还能列举每个家族的主要特点。比如莱 弗茨家年轻一代（长岛那些人）无比吝啬；拉什沃斯一家极其愚蠢，总是在婚配问 题上犯下致命错误；再如，阿尔巴尼·奇弗斯家每隔一代就会出现一个神经病，他 们纽约的表兄妹一直拒绝与之通婚——惟独可怜的梅多拉·曼森是个不幸的例外， 她——人所共知……而她的母亲本来就是拉什沃斯家的人。
除了这种家族谱系的丰富知识之外，西勒顿·杰克逊在凹陷狭窄的两鬓之间、 柔软浓密的银发下面，还保存着郁结在纽约社会平静表层底下的最近50年间多数丑 闻与秘史的记录。他的信息的确面广量大，他的记忆的确精确无误，所以人们认为 惟有他才能说出银行家朱利叶斯·博福特究竟是何许人，老曼森·明戈特太太的父 亲、漂亮的鲍勃·斯派塞的结局究竟如何。后者结婚不到一年，就在一位美丽的西 班牙舞蹈演员登船去古巴的那一天神秘地失踪了（带着一大笔委托金），她在巴特 利的老歌剧院曾令蜂拥的观众欢欣鼓舞。不过这些秘闻——还有许多其他的——都 严严实实锁在杰克逊先生心中。因为，不仅强烈的道义感不许他重复别人私下告诉 他的任何事情，而且他十分清楚，谨慎周到的名声会给他更多的机会，以便查明他 想了解的情况。
所以，当西勒顿·杰克逊先生把小望远镜还给劳伦斯·莱弗茨的时候，俱乐部 包厢的人带着明显的悬念等待着。他用布满老筋的眼睑下那双朦胧的蓝眼睛默默地 审视一番那伙洗耳恭听的人，然后若有所思地抖动一下胡髭，仅仅说了一句：“没 想到明戈特家的人会摆出这种架式。”
Though there was already talk of the erection, in remote metropolitan distances "above the Forties," of a new Opera House which should compete in costliness and splendour with those of the great European capitals, the world of fashion was still content to reassemble every winter in the shabby red and gold boxes of the sociable old Academy. Conservatives cherished it for being small and inconvenient, and thus keeping out the "new people" whom New York was beginning to dread and yet be drawn to; and the sentimental clung to it for its historic associations, and the musical for its excellent acoustics, always so problematic a quality in halls built for the hearing of music.
It was Madame Nilsson's first appearance that winter, and what the daily press had already learned to describe as "an exceptionally brilliant audience" had gathered to hear her, transported through the slippery, snowy streets in private broughams, in the spacious family landau, or in the humbler but more convenient "Brown coupe" To come to the Opera in a Brown coupe was almost as honourable a way of arriving as in one's own carriage; and departure by the same means had the immense advantage of enabling one (with a playful allusion to democratic principles) to scramble into the first Brown conveyance in the line, instead of waiting till the cold-and-gin congested nose of one's own coachman gleamed under the portico of the Academy. It was one of the great livery-stableman's most masterly intuitions to have discovered that Americans want to get away from amusement even more quickly than they want to get to it.
When Newland Archer opened the door at the back of the club box the curtain had just gone up on the garden scene. There was no reason why the young man should not have come earlier, for he had dined at seven, alone with his mother and sister, and had lingered afterward over a cigar in the Gothic library with glazed black-walnut bookcases and finial-topped chairs which was the only room in the house where Mrs. Archer allowed smoking. But, in the first place, New York was a metropolis, and perfectly aware that in metropolises it was "not the thing" to arrive early at the opera; and what was or was not "the thing" played a part as important in Newland Archer's New York as the inscrutable totem terrors that had ruled the destinies of his forefathers thousands of years ago.
The second reason for his delay was a personal one. He had dawdled over his cigar because he was at heart a dilettante, and thinking over a pleasure to come often gave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation. This was especially the case when the pleasure was a delicate one, as his pleasures mostly were; and on this occasion the moment he looked forward to was so rare and exquisite in quality that--well, if he had timed his arrival in accord with the prima donna's stage-manager he could not have entered the Academy at a more significant moment than just as she was singing: "He loves me--he loves me not--HE LOVES ME!--" and sprinkling the falling daisy petals with notes as clear as dew.
She sang, of course, "M'ama!" and not "he loves me," since an unalterable and unquestioned law of the musical world required that the German text of French operas sung by Swedish artists should be translated into Italian for the clearer understanding of English- speaking audiences. This seemed as natural to Newland Archer as all the other conventions on which his life was moulded: such as the duty of using two silver- backed brushes with his monogram in blue enamel to part his hair, and of never appearing in society without a flower (preferably a gardenia) in his buttonhole.
"M'ama . . . non m'ama . . . " the prima donna sang, and "M'ama!", with a final burst of love triumphant, as she pressed the dishevelled daisy to her lips and lifted her large eyes to the sophisticated countenance of the little brown Faust-Capoul, who was vainly trying, in a tight purple velvet doublet and plumed cap, to look as pure and true as his artless victim.
Newland Archer, leaning against the wall at the back of the club box, turned his eyes from the stage and scanned the opposite side of the house. Directly facing him was the box of old Mrs. Manson Mingott, whose monstrous obesity had long since made it impossible for her to attend the Opera, but who was always represented on fashionable nights by some of the younger members of the family. On this occasion, the front of the box was filled by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, and her daughter, Mrs. Welland; and slightly withdrawn behind these brocaded matrons sat a young girl in white with eyes ecstatically fixed on the stagelovers. As Madame Nilsson's "M'ama!" thrilled out above the silent house (the boxes always stopped talking during the Daisy Song) a warm pink mounted to the girl's cheek, mantled her brow to the roots of her fair braids, and suffused the young slope of her breast to the line where it met a modest tulle tucker fastened with a single gardenia. She dropped her eyes to the immense bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley on her knee, and Newland Archer saw her white-gloved finger-tips touch the flowers softly. He drew a breath of satisfied vanity and his eyes returned to the stage.
No expense had been spared on the setting, which was acknowledged to be very beautiful even by people who shared his acquaintance with the Opera houses of Paris and Vienna. The foreground, to the footlights, was covered with emerald green cloth. In the middle distance symmetrical mounds of woolly green moss bounded by croquet hoops formed the base of shrubs shaped like orange-trees but studded with large pink and red roses. Gigantic pansies, considerably larger than the roses, and closely resembling the floral pen- wipers made by female parishioners for fashionable clergymen, sprang from the moss beneath the rose- trees; and here and there a daisy grafted on a rose- branch flowered with a luxuriance prophetic of Mr. Luther Burbank's far-off prodigies.
In the centre of this enchanted garden Madame Nilsson, in white cashmere slashed with pale blue satin, a reticule dangling from a blue girdle, and large yellow braids carefully disposed on each side of her muslin chemisette, listened with downcast eyes to M. Capoul's impassioned wooing, and affected a guileless incomprehension of his designs whenever, by word or glance, he persuasively indicated the ground floor window of the neat brick villa projecting obliquely from the right wing.
"The darling!" thought Newland Archer, his glance flitting back to the young girl with the lilies-of-the- valley. "She doesn't even guess what it's all about." And he contemplated her absorbed young face with a thrill of possessorship in which pride in his own masculine initiation was mingled with a tender reverence for her abysmal purity. "We'll read Faust together . . . by the Italian lakes . . ." he thought, somewhat hazily confusing the scene of his projected honey-moon with the masterpieces of literature which it would be his manly privilege to reveal to his bride. It was only that afternoon that May Welland had let him guess that she "cared" (New York's consecrated phrase of maiden avowal), and already his imagination, leaping ahead of the engagement ring, the betrothal kiss and the march from Lohengrin, pictured her at his side in some scene of old European witchery.
He did not in the least wish the future Mrs. Newland Archer to be a simpleton. He meant her (thanks to his enlightening companionship) to develop a social tact and readiness of wit enabling her to hold her own with the most popular married women of the "younger set," in which it was the recognised custom to attract masculine homage while playfully discouraging it. If he had probed to the bottom of his vanity (as he sometimes nearly did) he would have found there the wish that his wife should be as worldly-wise and as eager to please as the married lady whose charms had held his fancy through two mildly agitated years; without, of course, any hint of the frailty which had so nearly marred that unhappy being's life, and had disarranged his own plans for a whole winter.
How this miracle of fire and ice was to be created, and to sustain itself in a harsh world, he had never taken the time to think out; but he was content to hold his view without analysing it, since he knew it was that of all the carefully-brushed, white-waistcoated, button- hole-flowered gentlemen who succeeded each other in the club box, exchanged friendly greetings with him, and turned their opera-glasses critically on the circle of ladies who were the product of the system. In matters intellectual and artistic Newland Archer felt himself distinctly the superior of these chosen specimens of old New York gentility; he had probably read more, thought more, and even seen a good deal more of the world, than any other man of the number. Singly they betrayed their inferiority; but grouped together they represented "New York," and the habit of masculine solidarity made him accept their doctrine on all the issues called moral. He instinctively felt that in this respect it would be troublesome--and also rather bad form--to strike out for himself.
"Well--upon my soul!" exclaimed Lawrence Lefferts, turning his opera-glass abruptly away from the stage. Lawrence Lefferts was, on the whole, the foremost authority on "form" in New York. He had probably devoted more time than any one else to the study of this intricate and fascinating question; but study alone could not account for his complete and easy competence. One had only to look at him, from the slant of his bald forehead and the curve of his beautiful fair moustache to the long patent-leather feet at the other end of his lean and elegant person, to feel that the knowledge of "form" must be congenital in any one who knew how to wear such good clothes so carelessly and carry such height with so much lounging grace. As a young admirer had once said of him: "If anybody can tell a fellow just when to wear a black tie with evening clothes and when not to, it's Larry Lefferts." And on the question of pumps versus patent-leather "Oxfords" his authority had never been disputed.
"My God!" he said; and silently handed his glass to old Sillerton Jackson.
Newland Archer, following Lefferts's glance, saw with surprise that his exclamation had been occasioned by the entry of a new figure into old Mrs. Mingott's box. It was that of a slim young woman, a little less tall than May Welland, with brown hair growing in close curls about her temples and held in place by a narrow band of diamonds. The suggestion of this headdress, which gave her what was then called a "Josephine look," was carried out in the cut of the dark blue velvet gown rather theatrically caught up under her bosom by a girdle with a large old-fashioned clasp. The wearer of this unusual dress, who seemed quite unconscious of the attention it was attracting, stood a moment in the centre of the box, discussing with Mrs. Welland the propriety of taking the latter's place in the front right- hand corner; then she yielded with a slight smile, and seated herself in line with Mrs. Welland's sister-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, who was installed in the opposite corner.
Mr. Sillerton Jackson had returned the opera-glass to Lawrence Lefferts. The whole of the club turned instinctively, waiting to hear what the old man had to say; for old Mr. Jackson was as great an authority on "family" as Lawrence Lefferts was on "form." He knew all the ramifications of New York's cousinships; and could not only elucidate such complicated questions as that of the connection between the Mingotts (through the Thorleys) with the Dallases of South Carolina, and that of the relationship of the elder branch of Philadelphia Thorleys to the Albany Chiverses (on no account to be confused with the Manson Chiverses of University Place), but could also enumerate the leading characteristics of each family: as, for instance, the fabulous stinginess of the younger lines of Leffertses (the Long Island ones); or the fatal tendency of the Rushworths to make foolish matches; or the insanity recurring in every second generation of the Albany Chiverses, with whom their New York cousins had always refused to intermarry--with the disastrous exception of poor Medora Manson, who, as everybody knew . . . but then her mother was a Rushworth.
In addition to this forest of family trees, Mr. Sillerton Jackson carried between his narrow hollow temples, and under his soft thatch of silver hair, a register of most of the scandals and mysteries that had smouldered under the unruffled surface of New York society within the last fifty years. So far indeed did his information extend, and so acutely retentive was his memory, that he was supposed to be the only man who could have told you who Julius Beaufort, the banker, really was, and what had become of handsome Bob Spicer, old Mrs. Manson Mingott's father, who had disappeared so mysteriously (with a large sum of trust money) less than a year after his marriage, on the very day that a beautiful Spanish dancer who had been delighting thronged audiences in the old Opera-house on the Battery had taken ship for Cuba. But these mysteries, and many others, were closely locked in Mr. Jackson's breast; for not only did his keen sense of honour forbid his repeating anything privately imparted, but he was fully aware that his reputation for discretion increased his opportunities of finding out what he wanted to know.
The club box, therefore, waited in visible suspense while Mr. Sillerton Jackson handed back Lawrence Lefferts's opera-glass. For a moment he silently scrutinised the attentive group out of his filmy blue eyes overhung by old veined lids; then he gave his moustache a thoughtful twist, and said simply: "I didn't think the Mingotts would have tried it on."
虽然人们早就议论要在第40街以北的远郊兴建一座新的歌剧院，其造价与壮观 将和欧洲那些著名首都的歌剧院媲美，然而上流社会却依然满足于每年冬天在这座 历史悠久的音乐院红黄两色的旧包厢里进行社交聚会。保守派的人们欣赏它的窄小 不便，这样可以把纽约社会开始惧怕但又为之吸引的“新人”拒之门外；多愁善感 的人们因为它引起许多历史的联想而对它恋恋不舍；而音乐爱好者则留恋它精美的 音响效果。在专为欣赏音乐而修建的厅堂中，音响效果向来都是个棘手的质量问题。
这是尼尔森夫人当年冬天的首场演出。那些被日报称为“超凡脱俗的听众”已 经云集来听她的演唱。他们或乘私人马车、或乘宽敞的家庭双篷马车、或者乘档次 较低却更为便利的“布朗四轮马车”，经过溜滑多雪的街道来到了这里。乘坐布朗 马车来听歌剧，几乎跟坐自己的马车一样体面；而且，离开剧场时还有极大的优越 性（对原则开一句玩笑）：你可以抢先登上线路上第一辆布朗马车，而不用等 待自己的那因寒冷和烈酒而充血的红鼻子车夫在音乐院门廊下面显现。美国人想离 开娱乐场所比想去的时候更加迫切，这可是那位了不起的马车行店主凭绝妙的直觉 获得的伟大发现。
当纽兰·阿切尔打开包厢后面的门时，花园一场的帷幕刚刚升起。这位年轻人 本可以早一点来到。他7点钟和母亲与妹妹一起用了餐，其后又在哥特式图书室里慢 慢吞吞地吸了一支雪茄。那间放了光亮的黑色胡桃木书橱和尖顶椅子的房间，是这 所房子里阿切尔太太惟一允许吸烟的地方。然而，首先，纽约是个大都市，而他又 十分清楚，在大都市里听歌剧早到是“不合宜”的。而是否“合宜”，在纽兰·阿 切尔时代的纽约，其意义就像几千年前支配了他祖先命运的不可思议的图腾恐惧一 样重要。
他晚到的第二个原因是个人方面的。他吸烟慢慢吞吞，是因为他在内心深处是 个艺术的爱好者，玩味行将来到的快乐，常常会使他比快乐真的来到时感到更深切 的满足。当这种快乐十分微妙时尤其如此，而他的乐趣多半属于这种类型。这一次 他期盼的时机非常珍贵，其性质异常微妙——呃，假若他把时间掌握得恰到好处， 能与那位首席女演员的舞台监督合上拍，到场时正赶上她一边唱着“他爱我——他 不爱我——他爱我！”一边抛洒着雏菊花瓣，其暗示像露水般清澈——果真如此， 他进音乐院的时机就再美妙不过了。
当然，她唱的是“呣啊嘛”，而不是“他爱我”，因为音乐界那不容改变、不 容怀疑的法则要求，由瑞典艺术家演唱的法国歌剧的德语文本，必须翻译成意大利 语，以便讲英语的听众更清楚地理解。这一点纽兰·阿切尔觉得和他生活中遵循的 所有其他惯例一样理所当然：比如，用两把带有蓝瓷漆涂着他姓名缩写的银背刷子 分开他的头发，纽扣洞里插一朵花（最好是桅子花）才在社交界露面。
“呣啊嘛……农呣啊嘛……”首席女演员唱道，她以赢得爱情后的最后爆发力 唱出“呣啊嘛！”一面把那束乱蓬蓬的雏菊压在唇上，抬起一双大眼睛，朝那位阴 郁的小浮士德——卡布尔做作的脸上望去。他穿一件紫色的丝绒紧身上衣，戴一顶 鼓囊囊的便帽，正徒劳地装出与那位天真的受害者一样纯洁真诚的表情。
纽兰·阿切尔倚在俱乐部包厢后面的墙上，目光从舞台上移开，扫视着剧场对 面。正对着他的是老曼森·明戈特太太的包厢。可怕的肥胖病早已使她无法来听歌 剧，不过在有社交活动的晚上，她总是由家庭的某些年轻成员代表出席。这一次， 占据包厢前排座位的是她的儿媳洛弗尔·明戈特太太和她的女儿韦兰太太。坐在这 两位身着锦缎的妇人身后的是一位穿白衣的年轻姑娘，正目不转睛地注视着那对舞 台恋人。当尼尔森夫人“呣啊嘛”的颤音划破音乐院静寂的上空时（演唱雏菊歌期 间，各包厢总是停止交谈），一片潮红泛起在姑娘的面颊，从额头涌向她美丽发辫 的根际，漫过她那青春的胸部斜面，直至系着一朵桅子花的薄纱领的领线。她垂下 眼睛望着膝上那一大束铃兰。纽兰·阿切尔看见她戴白手套的指尖轻抚着花朵。他 满足地深深吸了一口气。他的目光又回到舞台上。
布景的制作是不惜工本的，连熟悉巴黎和维也纳歌剧院的人也承认布景很美。 前景直至脚灯铺了一块鲜绿色的画布，中景的底层是若干覆盖着毛茸茸绿色地衣的 对称小丘，与槌球游戏的拱门邻接，上面的灌木丛形状像桔子树，但点缀其间的却 是大朵大朵粉红色和红色的玫瑰花。比这些玫瑰更大的紫罗兰，颇似教区女居民为 牧师制作的花形笔擦，从玫瑰树底下的绿苔中拔地而起；在一些鲜花怒放的玫瑰枝 头，嫁接着朵朵雏菊，预告着卢瑟·伯班克先生园艺试验遥远的奇观。
在这座魔幻般的花园中心，尼尔森夫人身穿镶淡蓝色缎子切口的白色开司米外 衣，一个网状手提包吊在蓝腰带上晃来晃去，一条宽大的黄色织带精心地排列在她 那件细棉紧身胸衣的两侧。她低垂着眼睛倾听卡布尔热烈的求爱，每当他用话语或 目光劝诱她去从右侧斜伸出来的那座整洁的砖造别墅一楼的窗口时，她都装出一副 对他的意图毫不理解的天真的样子。
“亲爱的！”纽兰·阿切尔心里想。他的目光迅速回到那位手持铃兰的年轻姑 娘身上。“她连一点儿也看不懂啊。”他注视着她全”神贯注的稚嫩面庞，心中不 由涌出一阵拥有者的激动，其中有对自己萌动的丈夫气概的自豪，也有对她那深不 可测的纯洁的温馨敬意。“我们将在一起读《浮士德》，……在意大利的湖畔……” 他心想，迷迷糊糊地把自己设计的蜜月场面与文学名著搅在一起。向自己的新娘阐 释名著似乎是他做丈夫的特权。仅仅在今天下午，梅·韦兰才让他猜出她对他感到 “中意”（纽约人尊崇的未婚少女认可的用语），而他的想象却早已跃过了订婚戒 指、订婚之吻以及走出卢亨格林教堂的婚礼行列，构画起古老欧洲某个令人心醉的 场景中她偎依在他身旁的情景了。
他决不希望未来的纽兰·阿切尔太太是个呆子。他要让她（由于他朝夕相伴的 启蒙）养成一种圆通的社交能力，随机应变的口才，能与“年轻一代”那些最有名 气的已婚女子平起平坐。在那些人中间，一条公认的习俗是，既要卖弄风情，引起 男人的热情，同时又要装聋作哑，不让他们得寸进尺。假如他早一些对他的虚荣心 进行深入的探索（有时候他几乎已经做到了），他可能早已发现那儿有个潜藏的愿 望：希望自己的妻子跟那些已婚女士一样地世故圆通，一样地渴望取悦他人。那些 太太们的妩媚曾使他心醉神迷，让他度过了两个稍显焦虑的年头——当然，他没露 出一丁点脆弱的影子，尽管那险些毁了他这位不幸者的终生，并且整整一个冬天搅 乱了他的计划。
至于如何创造出这火与冰的奇迹，又如何在一个冷酷的世界上支撑下去，他可 是从来没有花时间想过；他只是满足于不加分析地坚持自己的观点，因为他知道这 也是所有那些精心梳了头发。穿白背心、扣洞里别鲜花的绅士们的观点。他们一个 接一个地进入俱乐部包厢，友好地和他打招呼，然后带着批评的眼光把望远镜对准 了作为这个制度产物的女士们。在智力与艺术方面，纽兰·阿切尔觉得自己比老纽 约上流阶层这些精选的标本明显要高一筹：他比这帮人中任何一位大概都读得多、 思考得多，并且也见识得多。单独来看，他们都处于劣势，但凑在一起，他们却代 表着“纽约”，而男性团结一致的惯例使他在称作道德的所有问题上都接受了他们 的原则。他本能地感到，在这方面他若一个人标新立异，肯定会引起麻烦，而且也 很不得体。
“哎哟——我的天！”劳伦斯·莱弗茨喊道，突然把他的小望远镜从舞台的方 向移开。就总体而言，劳伦斯·莱弗茨在“举止”问题上是纽约的最高权威。他研 究这个复杂而诱人的问题花费的时间大概比任何人都多。单只研究还不能说明他驾 轻就熟的全才，人们只需看他一眼——从光秃秃的前额斜面与好看的金黄胡髭的曲 线，到那瘦削优雅的身体另一端穿漆皮鞋的长脚——便会觉得，一个知道如何随便 地穿着如此贵重的衣服并保持极度闲适优雅的人，在“举止”方面的学识一定是出 自天赋。正如一位年轻崇拜者有一次谈起他时所说的：“假如有谁能告诉你什么时 间打黑领带配夜礼服恰到好处，什么时候不行，那么，这个人就是劳伦斯·莱弗茨。” 至于网球鞋与漆皮“牛津”鞋孰优孰劣的问题，他的权威从未有人提出过怀疑。
“我的上帝！”他说，接着默默地将望远镜递给了老西勒顿·杰克逊。
纽兰·阿切尔随着莱弗茨的目光望去，惊讶地发现他的感叹是因为一个陌生的 身影进入明戈特太太的包厢而引起的。那是位身材苗条的年轻女子，比梅·韦兰略 矮一点，棕色的头发在鬓角处变成浓密的发鬈，用一条钻石窄带固定住。这种发型 使她具有一种时下称作“约瑟芬式”的模样，这一联想在她那件深蓝色丝绒晚礼服 的款式上得到了印证，那礼服用一条带老式大扣子的腰带在她胸下十分夸张地挽住。 她穿着这一身奇特的衣服，十分引人注目，可她似乎一点儿也未发觉。她在包厢中 间站了一会，与韦兰太太讨论占据她前排右面角落座位的礼节问题，接着便莞尔听 命，与坐在对面角落里的韦兰太太的嫂嫂洛弗尔·明戈特太太在同一排就坐。
西勒顿·杰克逊先生把小望远镜还给了劳伦斯·莱弗茨。全俱乐部的人都本能 地转过脸，等着听这位老者开讲。因为正如劳伦斯·莱弗茨在“举止”问题上那样， 老杰克逊先生在“家族”问题上是最高权威。他了解纽约那些堂、表亲戚关系的所 有支派；不仅能说清诸如明戈特家族（通过索利家族）与南卡罗来纳州达拉斯家族 之间的关系，以及上一支费城索利家族与阿尔巴尼·奇弗斯家族（决不会与大学区 的曼森·奇弗斯族混淆）复杂的亲缘，而且还能列举每个家族的主要特点。比如莱 弗茨家年轻一代（长岛那些人）无比吝啬；拉什沃斯一家极其愚蠢，总是在婚配问 题上犯下致命错误；再如，阿尔巴尼·奇弗斯家每隔一代就会出现一个神经病，他 们纽约的表兄妹一直拒绝与之通婚——惟独可怜的梅多拉·曼森是个不幸的例外， 她——人所共知……而她的母亲本来就是拉什沃斯家的人。
除了这种家族谱系的丰富知识之外，西勒顿·杰克逊在凹陷狭窄的两鬓之间、 柔软浓密的银发下面，还保存着郁结在纽约社会平静表层底下的最近50年间多数丑 闻与秘史的记录。他的信息的确面广量大，他的记忆的确精确无误，所以人们认为 惟有他才能说出银行家朱利叶斯·博福特究竟是何许人，老曼森·明戈特太太的父 亲、漂亮的鲍勃·斯派塞的结局究竟如何。后者结婚不到一年，就在一位美丽的西 班牙舞蹈演员登船去古巴的那一天神秘地失踪了（带着一大笔委托金），她在巴特 利的老歌剧院曾令蜂拥的观众欢欣鼓舞。不过这些秘闻——还有许多其他的——都 严严实实锁在杰克逊先生心中。因为，不仅强烈的道义感不许他重复别人私下告诉 他的任何事情，而且他十分清楚，谨慎周到的名声会给他更多的机会，以便查明他 想了解的情况。
所以，当西勒顿·杰克逊先生把小望远镜还给劳伦斯·莱弗茨的时候，俱乐部 包厢的人带着明显的悬念等待着。他用布满老筋的眼睑下那双朦胧的蓝眼睛默默地 审视一番那伙洗耳恭听的人，然后若有所思地抖动一下胡髭，仅仅说了一句：“没 想到明戈特家的人会摆出这种架式。”
Though there was already talk of the erection, in remote metropolitan distances "above the Forties," of a new Opera House which should compete in costliness and splendour with those of the great European capitals, the world of fashion was still content to reassemble every winter in the shabby red and gold boxes of the sociable old Academy. Conservatives cherished it for being small and inconvenient, and thus keeping out the "new people" whom New York was beginning to dread and yet be drawn to; and the sentimental clung to it for its historic associations, and the musical for its excellent acoustics, always so problematic a quality in halls built for the hearing of music.
It was Madame Nilsson's first appearance that winter, and what the daily press had already learned to describe as "an exceptionally brilliant audience" had gathered to hear her, transported through the slippery, snowy streets in private broughams, in the spacious family landau, or in the humbler but more convenient "Brown coupe" To come to the Opera in a Brown coupe was almost as honourable a way of arriving as in one's own carriage; and departure by the same means had the immense advantage of enabling one (with a playful allusion to democratic principles) to scramble into the first Brown conveyance in the line, instead of waiting till the cold-and-gin congested nose of one's own coachman gleamed under the portico of the Academy. It was one of the great livery-stableman's most masterly intuitions to have discovered that Americans want to get away from amusement even more quickly than they want to get to it.
When Newland Archer opened the door at the back of the club box the curtain had just gone up on the garden scene. There was no reason why the young man should not have come earlier, for he had dined at seven, alone with his mother and sister, and had lingered afterward over a cigar in the Gothic library with glazed black-walnut bookcases and finial-topped chairs which was the only room in the house where Mrs. Archer allowed smoking. But, in the first place, New York was a metropolis, and perfectly aware that in metropolises it was "not the thing" to arrive early at the opera; and what was or was not "the thing" played a part as important in Newland Archer's New York as the inscrutable totem terrors that had ruled the destinies of his forefathers thousands of years ago.
The second reason for his delay was a personal one. He had dawdled over his cigar because he was at heart a dilettante, and thinking over a pleasure to come often gave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation. This was especially the case when the pleasure was a delicate one, as his pleasures mostly were; and on this occasion the moment he looked forward to was so rare and exquisite in quality that--well, if he had timed his arrival in accord with the prima donna's stage-manager he could not have entered the Academy at a more significant moment than just as she was singing: "He loves me--he loves me not--HE LOVES ME!--" and sprinkling the falling daisy petals with notes as clear as dew.
She sang, of course, "M'ama!" and not "he loves me," since an unalterable and unquestioned law of the musical world required that the German text of French operas sung by Swedish artists should be translated into Italian for the clearer understanding of English- speaking audiences. This seemed as natural to Newland Archer as all the other conventions on which his life was moulded: such as the duty of using two silver- backed brushes with his monogram in blue enamel to part his hair, and of never appearing in society without a flower (preferably a gardenia) in his buttonhole.
"M'ama . . . non m'ama . . . " the prima donna sang, and "M'ama!", with a final burst of love triumphant, as she pressed the dishevelled daisy to her lips and lifted her large eyes to the sophisticated countenance of the little brown Faust-Capoul, who was vainly trying, in a tight purple velvet doublet and plumed cap, to look as pure and true as his artless victim.
Newland Archer, leaning against the wall at the back of the club box, turned his eyes from the stage and scanned the opposite side of the house. Directly facing him was the box of old Mrs. Manson Mingott, whose monstrous obesity had long since made it impossible for her to attend the Opera, but who was always represented on fashionable nights by some of the younger members of the family. On this occasion, the front of the box was filled by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, and her daughter, Mrs. Welland; and slightly withdrawn behind these brocaded matrons sat a young girl in white with eyes ecstatically fixed on the stagelovers. As Madame Nilsson's "M'ama!" thrilled out above the silent house (the boxes always stopped talking during the Daisy Song) a warm pink mounted to the girl's cheek, mantled her brow to the roots of her fair braids, and suffused the young slope of her breast to the line where it met a modest tulle tucker fastened with a single gardenia. She dropped her eyes to the immense bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley on her knee, and Newland Archer saw her white-gloved finger-tips touch the flowers softly. He drew a breath of satisfied vanity and his eyes returned to the stage.
No expense had been spared on the setting, which was acknowledged to be very beautiful even by people who shared his acquaintance with the Opera houses of Paris and Vienna. The foreground, to the footlights, was covered with emerald green cloth. In the middle distance symmetrical mounds of woolly green moss bounded by croquet hoops formed the base of shrubs shaped like orange-trees but studded with large pink and red roses. Gigantic pansies, considerably larger than the roses, and closely resembling the floral pen- wipers made by female parishioners for fashionable clergymen, sprang from the moss beneath the rose- trees; and here and there a daisy grafted on a rose- branch flowered with a luxuriance prophetic of Mr. Luther Burbank's far-off prodigies.
In the centre of this enchanted garden Madame Nilsson, in white cashmere slashed with pale blue satin, a reticule dangling from a blue girdle, and large yellow braids carefully disposed on each side of her muslin chemisette, listened with downcast eyes to M. Capoul's impassioned wooing, and affected a guileless incomprehension of his designs whenever, by word or glance, he persuasively indicated the ground floor window of the neat brick villa projecting obliquely from the right wing.
"The darling!" thought Newland Archer, his glance flitting back to the young girl with the lilies-of-the- valley. "She doesn't even guess what it's all about." And he contemplated her absorbed young face with a thrill of possessorship in which pride in his own masculine initiation was mingled with a tender reverence for her abysmal purity. "We'll read Faust together . . . by the Italian lakes . . ." he thought, somewhat hazily confusing the scene of his projected honey-moon with the masterpieces of literature which it would be his manly privilege to reveal to his bride. It was only that afternoon that May Welland had let him guess that she "cared" (New York's consecrated phrase of maiden avowal), and already his imagination, leaping ahead of the engagement ring, the betrothal kiss and the march from Lohengrin, pictured her at his side in some scene of old European witchery.
He did not in the least wish the future Mrs. Newland Archer to be a simpleton. He meant her (thanks to his enlightening companionship) to develop a social tact and readiness of wit enabling her to hold her own with the most popular married women of the "younger set," in which it was the recognised custom to attract masculine homage while playfully discouraging it. If he had probed to the bottom of his vanity (as he sometimes nearly did) he would have found there the wish that his wife should be as worldly-wise and as eager to please as the married lady whose charms had held his fancy through two mildly agitated years; without, of course, any hint of the frailty which had so nearly marred that unhappy being's life, and had disarranged his own plans for a whole winter.
How this miracle of fire and ice was to be created, and to sustain itself in a harsh world, he had never taken the time to think out; but he was content to hold his view without analysing it, since he knew it was that of all the carefully-brushed, white-waistcoated, button- hole-flowered gentlemen who succeeded each other in the club box, exchanged friendly greetings with him, and turned their opera-glasses critically on the circle of ladies who were the product of the system. In matters intellectual and artistic Newland Archer felt himself distinctly the superior of these chosen specimens of old New York gentility; he had probably read more, thought more, and even seen a good deal more of the world, than any other man of the number. Singly they betrayed their inferiority; but grouped together they represented "New York," and the habit of masculine solidarity made him accept their doctrine on all the issues called moral. He instinctively felt that in this respect it would be troublesome--and also rather bad form--to strike out for himself.
"Well--upon my soul!" exclaimed Lawrence Lefferts, turning his opera-glass abruptly away from the stage. Lawrence Lefferts was, on the whole, the foremost authority on "form" in New York. He had probably devoted more time than any one else to the study of this intricate and fascinating question; but study alone could not account for his complete and easy competence. One had only to look at him, from the slant of his bald forehead and the curve of his beautiful fair moustache to the long patent-leather feet at the other end of his lean and elegant person, to feel that the knowledge of "form" must be congenital in any one who knew how to wear such good clothes so carelessly and carry such height with so much lounging grace. As a young admirer had once said of him: "If anybody can tell a fellow just when to wear a black tie with evening clothes and when not to, it's Larry Lefferts." And on the question of pumps versus patent-leather "Oxfords" his authority had never been disputed.
"My God!" he said; and silently handed his glass to old Sillerton Jackson.
Newland Archer, following Lefferts's glance, saw with surprise that his exclamation had been occasioned by the entry of a new figure into old Mrs. Mingott's box. It was that of a slim young woman, a little less tall than May Welland, with brown hair growing in close curls about her temples and held in place by a narrow band of diamonds. The suggestion of this headdress, which gave her what was then called a "Josephine look," was carried out in the cut of the dark blue velvet gown rather theatrically caught up under her bosom by a girdle with a large old-fashioned clasp. The wearer of this unusual dress, who seemed quite unconscious of the attention it was attracting, stood a moment in the centre of the box, discussing with Mrs. Welland the propriety of taking the latter's place in the front right- hand corner; then she yielded with a slight smile, and seated herself in line with Mrs. Welland's sister-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, who was installed in the opposite corner.
Mr. Sillerton Jackson had returned the opera-glass to Lawrence Lefferts. The whole of the club turned instinctively, waiting to hear what the old man had to say; for old Mr. Jackson was as great an authority on "family" as Lawrence Lefferts was on "form." He knew all the ramifications of New York's cousinships; and could not only elucidate such complicated questions as that of the connection between the Mingotts (through the Thorleys) with the Dallases of South Carolina, and that of the relationship of the elder branch of Philadelphia Thorleys to the Albany Chiverses (on no account to be confused with the Manson Chiverses of University Place), but could also enumerate the leading characteristics of each family: as, for instance, the fabulous stinginess of the younger lines of Leffertses (the Long Island ones); or the fatal tendency of the Rushworths to make foolish matches; or the insanity recurring in every second generation of the Albany Chiverses, with whom their New York cousins had always refused to intermarry--with the disastrous exception of poor Medora Manson, who, as everybody knew . . . but then her mother was a Rushworth.
In addition to this forest of family trees, Mr. Sillerton Jackson carried between his narrow hollow temples, and under his soft thatch of silver hair, a register of most of the scandals and mysteries that had smouldered under the unruffled surface of New York society within the last fifty years. So far indeed did his information extend, and so acutely retentive was his memory, that he was supposed to be the only man who could have told you who Julius Beaufort, the banker, really was, and what had become of handsome Bob Spicer, old Mrs. Manson Mingott's father, who had disappeared so mysteriously (with a large sum of trust money) less than a year after his marriage, on the very day that a beautiful Spanish dancer who had been delighting thronged audiences in the old Opera-house on the Battery had taken ship for Cuba. But these mysteries, and many others, were closely locked in Mr. Jackson's breast; for not only did his keen sense of honour forbid his repeating anything privately imparted, but he was fully aware that his reputation for discretion increased his opportunities of finding out what he wanted to know.
The club box, therefore, waited in visible suspense while Mr. Sillerton Jackson handed back Lawrence Lefferts's opera-glass. For a moment he silently scrutinised the attentive group out of his filmy blue eyes overhung by old veined lids; then he gave his moustache a thoughtful twist, and said simply: "I didn't think the Mingotts would have tried it on."
在这个短暂的插曲中间，纽兰·阿切尔陷入一种奇怪的尴尬境地。
讨厌的是，如此吸引着纽约男性世界全部注意力的包厢竟是他未婚妻就坐的那 一个，她坐在母亲与舅妈中间。他一时竟认不出那位穿着法国30年代服装的女士， 也想象不出她的出现为什么会在俱乐部会员中引起如此的兴奋。接着，他明白过来， 并随之产生一阵愤慨。的确，没有人会想到明戈特家的人会摆出这种架式！
然而他们这样做了。毫无疑义，他们是这样做了；因为阿切尔身后低声的评论 使他心中没有丝毫怀疑，那位年轻女子就是梅·韦兰的表姐，那位家里人一直称作 “可怜的埃伦·奥兰斯卡”的表姐。阿切尔知道她一两天前突然从欧洲回来了，甚 至还听韦兰小姐（并非不满地）说过，她已经去看过可怜的埃伦了。她住在老明戈 特太太那儿。阿切尔完全拥护家族的团结。他最崇拜的明戈特家族的品德之一，就 是他们对家族中出的几个不肖子弟的坚决支持。他并不自私，也不是小鸡肚肠；他 未来的妻子没有受到假正经的局限，能（私下）善待她不幸的表姐，他还为此感到 高兴。然而，在家庭圈子内接待奥兰斯卡伯爵夫人是一回事，把她带到公共场所， 尤其是歌剧院这样的地方，则是完全不同的另一回事。而且就在那位年轻姑娘的包 厢里，她与他纽兰·阿切尔的订婚消息几周之内就要宣布。是的，他的感觉与老西 勒顿·杰克逊一样：他没想到明戈特家的人会摆出这种架式！
他当然知道，男人敢做的任何事（第五大街范围之内），老曼森·明戈特太太 这位女族长都敢做。他一向崇拜这位高大刚毅的老夫人，尽管她原来不过是斯塔腾 岛的凯瑟琳·斯派塞，有一位神秘的名誉扫地的父亲，那件事无论金钱还是地位都 难以让人们忘记。然而，她却与富有的明戈特家族的领头人联了姻，把两个女儿嫁 给了“外国人”（一个意大利侯爵，一个英国银行家），并且在中央公园附近无法 插足的荒地里建了一所乳白色石头大宅院（正值棕色沙石仿佛像下午的长礼服那样 青一色的时候），从而达到了登峰造极的地步。
老明戈特太太的两个外籍女儿成了一则神话故事。她们从不回来看望母亲。母 亲依恋故土且身体肥胖，像许多思想活跃意志专横的人那样，一直达观地留在家中， 而那幢乳白色的房子（据说是仿照巴黎贵族的私人旅馆建造的）却成了她大无畏精 神的见证。她在里面登上宝座，平静地生活在独立战争前的家具与路易·拿破仑杜 伊勒利宫（她中年时曾在那儿大出风头）的纪念品中间，仿佛住在34街以北、用开 得像门一样大的法式窗户代替推拉式吊窗丝毫不足为怪似的。
人人（包括西勒顿·杰克逊先生）都一致认为，老凯瑟琳从没拥有过美貌，而 在纽约人眼中，美貌是成功的保证，也可作为某些失败的借口。不友善的人们说， 像她那位大英帝国的同名女人一样，她获得成功靠的是意志力量与冷酷心肠， 外加一种由于私生活绝对正派而使她在一定程度上免遭非议的傲慢。曼森·明戈特 先生去世的时候她只有28岁。出于对斯派塞家族的不信任，他用一条附加条款“冻 结”了自己的遗产。他那位年轻、果敢的遗孀大无畏地走着自己的路，她无拘无束 地混迹在外国的社交界，把女儿嫁到天知道何等腐化时髦的圈子里，与公爵大使们 开怀畅饮，与教皇家亲密交往，款待歌剧演员，并做了芭蕾名门之后塔戈里奥 尼夫人的密友。与此同时（正如西勒顿·杰克逊首先宣布的），关于她的名声却从 没有一句口舌。这是她惟一一点，他总是接着说，与以前那位凯瑟琳的不同之处。
曼森·明戈特太太早已解冻了丈夫的财产，并殷殷实实地活了半个世纪。早年 困境的记忆使她格外节俭，虽然她在买衣服或添置家具时总是关照要最好的，但却 舍不得为餐桌上瞬间的享乐过多破费。所以，由于完全不同的原因，她的饭菜跟阿 切尔太太家一样差，她的酒也不能为之增光添彩。亲戚们认为，她餐桌上的吝啬损 害了明戈特家的名誉——它一向是与吃喝讲究连在一起的。然而人们还是不顾那些 “拼盘”与走味的香摈，继续到她家来。针对她儿子洛弗尔的劝告（他企图雇佣纽 约最好的厨师以恢复家族的名誉），她常常笑着说：“既然姑娘们都嫁出去了，我 又不能用调味品，一个家庭用两个好厨师还有什么用？”
纽兰·阿切尔一面沉思着这些事情，又把目光转向了明戈特包厢。他见韦兰太 太与她的嫂嫂正带着老凯瑟琳向族人灌输的那种明戈特家特有的自恃面对着组成半 圆形的批评者。只有梅·韦兰面色绯红（也许由于知道他在看她），流露出事态严 峻的意味。至于引起骚动的那一位，依然优雅地坐在包厢角落里，两眼凝视着舞台。 由于身体前倾，她肩膀和胸部露得比纽约社会习惯看到的稍稍多了一点，至少在那 些有理由希望不引起注意的女士们中间是如此。
在纽兰·阿切尔看来，很少有什么事比与“品味”相悖更难堪的了。品味是一 种看不见的神韵，“举止”仅仅是它直观的替代物与代表。奥兰斯卡夫人苍白而严 肃的面孔，按他的想象是适合于这种场合及她的不幸处境的，但她的衣服（没有衣 领）从那单薄的肩头坡下去的样式却令他震惊不安。他不愿设想梅·韦兰受到一个 如此不顾品味和情趣的年轻女子的影响。
“究竟——”他听到身后一个年轻人开口说（在靡菲斯特与玛莎的几场戏中， 大家自始至终都在交谈），“究竟发生了什么事？”
“哦——她离开了他；谁也不想否认这一点。”
“他是个可怕的畜牲，不是吗？”年轻人接着说，他是索利家族中一位直率的 人，显然准备加入那位女士的护花使者之列。
“一个糟糕透了的家伙；我在尼斯见过他，”劳伦斯·莱弗茨以权威的口气说。 “老喝得半醉，苍白的面孔上露出讥笑——但脑袋倒很漂亮，不过眼睫毛太多。噢， 我来告诉你他那德行：他不是跟女人在一起，就是去收集瓷器。据我所知，他对两 者都不惜任何代价。”
这话引出一阵哄堂大笑，那位年轻的护花使者说：“唔，可是——”
“唔，可是，她跟他的秘书逃跑了。”
“噢，我明白了。”护花使者的脸沉了下来。
“可是，这并没有持续多久：我听说她几个月后就独自住在威尼斯，我相信洛 弗尔·明戈特那次出国是去找她的。他曾说她非常地不快活。现在没事了——不过 在歌剧院里这样炫耀她却另当别论。”
“也许，”那位小索利冒险地说，“她太不快活了，不会愿意一个人被晾在家 里。”
这话引来一阵无礼的笑声，年轻人脸色深红，竭力装出是想巧妙使用聪明人所 说的“双关语”的样子。
“唔——不管怎么说，把韦兰小姐带来总是令人费解，”有人悄悄地说，一面 斜视了阿切尔一眼。
“噢，这是运动的一个组成部分嘛：肯定是老祖宗的命令，”莱弗茨笑着说。 “老夫人要是干一件事，总要干得完全彻底。”
这一幕结束了，包厢里一阵普遍的骚动。纽兰·阿切尔突然感到必须采取果断 行动。他要第一个走进明戈特太太的包厢，第一个向期望中的社交界宣布他与梅· 韦兰的订婚消息，第一个去帮助她度过表姐的异常处境可能使她卷人的任何困难。 这一冲动猛然间压倒了一切顾虑与迟疑，促使他匆匆穿过一节节红色走廊，向剧院 较远的一端走去。
进入包厢的时候，他的眼睛遇到了韦兰小姐的目光，而且他发现她立即明白了 他的来意，尽管家族的尊严不允许她对他明讲——两个人都认为这是一种很高尚的 美德。他们这个圈子的人都生活在一种含而不露、稍显矜持的气氛中，年轻人觉得， 他与她不用说一句话就能互相沟通，任何解释都不能使他们更加贴近。她的眼睛在 说：“你明白妈妈为什么带我来。”他的眼睛则回答：“无论如何我都不肯让你离 开这儿。”
“你认识我的侄女奥兰斯卡伯爵夫人吗？”韦兰太太与她未来的女婿握手时问 道。按照引见给女士的习惯，阿切尔欠一子，没有伸出手；埃伦·奥兰斯卡轻 轻低一下头，两只戴浅色手套的手继续握着那把大鹰毛扇子。与洛弗尔·明戈特太 太打过招呼——她是个大块头的金发女人，穿一身悉索作响的缎子衣裙——他在未 婚妻的身旁坐下，低声说：“我希望你已经告诉奥兰斯卡夫人我们订婚了吧？我想 让每个人都知道——我要你允许我今晚在舞会上宣布。”
韦兰小姐的脸变成曙光般的玫瑰红色，她两眼发光地看着他。“如果你能说服 妈妈的话，”她说，“不过，已经定了的事，干吗要改变呢？”他没有说话，只用 眼睛做了回答。她信心更足地笑着补充说：“你自己告诉我表姐吧，我允许你。她 说你还是孩子的时候，她常和你一起玩耍。”
她把椅子向后推了推，给他让出了路。阿切尔怀着一种让全场的人都能看见自 己的举动的愿望，立刻示威性地坐到了奥兰斯卡伯爵夫人身边。
“我们过去的确常在一起玩，不是吗？”她问道，一面用严肃的目光看着他的 眼睛。“你那时是个很讨厌的男孩，有一次你在门后面吻了我，但那时我爱上的却 是你的堂兄范迪·纽兰，可他从来不看我一眼。”她的目光扫视着那些马蹄形排列 的包厢。“啊，这场面多让我回想起过去的一切啊——我发现这里人人都穿灯笼裤 或宽松裤，”她带着略微拖长的异国口音说，目光又回到他的脸上。
这番话尽管表达的感情是令人愉快的，却竟然使他想到了威严的法庭，这一不 相称的联想令年轻人感到震惊。而此时此刻，这个法庭就摆在她的面前，她的案子 正在进行审理。没有什么东西比不合时宜的轻率更有伤大雅了。他有点生硬地回答 说：“是啊，你离开这儿已经很久了。”
“啊，好像有好几百年了。太久了，”她说，“让我觉得自己已经死了，被埋 掉了，而这方亲切的故土就是天堂。”说不清是什么理由，纽兰·阿切尔只觉得这 样形容纽约社会就更加失礼了。
It was annoying that the box which was thus attracting the undivided attention of masculine New York should be that in which his betrothed was seated between her mother and aunt; and for a moment he could not identify the lady in the Empire dress, nor imagine why her presence created such excitement among the initiated. Then light dawned on him, and with it came a momentary rush of indignation. No, indeed; no one would have thought the Mingotts would have tried it on!
But they had; they undoubtedly had; for the low- toned comments behind him left no doubt in Archer's mind that the young woman was May Welland's cousin, the cousin always referred to in the family as "poor Ellen Olenska." Archer knew that she had suddenly arrived from Europe a day or two previously; he had even heard from Miss Welland (not disapprovingly) that she had been to see poor Ellen, who was staying with old Mrs. Mingott. Archer entirely approved of family solidarity, and one of the qualities he most admired in the Mingotts was their resolute championship of the few black sheep that their blameless stock had produced. There was nothing mean or ungenerous in the young man's heart, and he was glad that his future wife should not be restrained by false prudery from being kind (in private) to her unhappy cousin; but to receive Countess Olenska in the family circle was a different thing from producing her in public, at the Opera of all places, and in the very box with the young girl whose engagement to him, Newland Archer, was to be announced within a few weeks. No, he felt as old Sillerton Jackson felt; he did not think the Mingotts would have tried it on!
He knew, of course, that whatever man dared (within Fifth Avenue's limits) that old Mrs. Manson Mingott, the Matriarch of the line, would dare. He had always admired the high and mighty old lady, who, in spite of having been only Catherine Spicer of Staten Island, with a father mysteriously discredited, and neither money nor position enough to make people forget it, had allied herself with the head of the wealthy Mingott line, married two of her daughters to "foreigners" (an Italian marquis and an English banker), and put the crowning touch to her audacities by building a large house of pale cream-coloured stone (when brown sandstone seemed as much the only wear as a frock-coat in the afternoon) in an inaccessible wilderness near the Central Park.
Old Mrs. Mingott's foreign daughters had become a legend. They never came back to see their mother, and the latter being, like many persons of active mind and dominating will, sedentary and corpulent in her habit, had philosophically remained at home. But the cream- coloured house (supposed to be modelled on the private hotels of the Parisian aristocracy) was there as a visible proof of her moral courage; and she throned in it, among pre-Revolutionary furniture and souvenirs of the Tuileries of Louis Napoleon (where she had shone in her middle age), as placidly as if there were nothing peculiar in living above Thirty-fourth Street, or in having French windows that opened like doors instead of sashes that pushed up.
Every one (including Mr. Sillerton Jackson) was agreed that old Catherine had never had beauty--a gift which, in the eyes of New York, justified every success, and excused a certain number of failings. Unkind people said that, like her Imperial namesake, she had won her way to success by strength of will and hardness of heart, and a kind of haughty effrontery that was somehow justified by the extreme decency and dignity of her private life. Mr. Manson Mingott had died when she was only twenty-eight, and had "tied up" the money with an additional caution born of the general distrust of the Spicers; but his bold young widow went her way fearlessly, mingled freely in foreign society, married her daughters in heaven knew what corrupt and fashionable circles, hobnobbed with Dukes and Ambassadors, associated familiarly with Papists, entertained Opera singers, and was the intimate friend of Mme. Taglioni; and all the while (as Sillerton Jackson was the first to proclaim) there had never been a breath on her reputation; the only respect, he always added, in which she differed from the earlier Catherine.
Mrs. Manson Mingott had long since succeeded in untying her husband's fortune, and had lived in affluence for half a century; but memories of her early straits had made her excessively thrifty, and though, when she bought a dress or a piece of furniture, she took care that it should be of the best, she could not bring herself to spend much on the transient pleasures of the table. Therefore, for totally different reasons, her food was as poor as Mrs. Archer's, and her wines did nothing to redeem it. Her relatives considered that the penury of her table discredited the Mingott name, which had always been associated with good living; but people continued to come to her in spite of the "made dishes" and flat champagne, and in reply to the remonstrances of her son Lovell (who tried to retrieve the family credit by having the best chef in New York) she used to say laughingly: "What's the use of two good cooks in one family, now that I've married the girls and can't eat sauces?"
Newland Archer, as he mused on these things, had once more turned his eyes toward the Mingott box. He saw that Mrs. Welland and her sister-in-law were facing their semicircle of critics with the Mingottian APLOMB which old Catherine had inculcated in all her tribe, and that only May Welland betrayed, by a heightened colour (perhaps due to the knowledge that he was watching her) a sense of the gravity of the situation. As for the cause of the commotion, she sat gracefully in her corner of the box, her eyes fixed on the stage, and revealing, as she leaned forward, a little more shoulder and bosom than New York was accustomed to seeing, at least in ladies who had reasons for wishing to pass unnoticed.
Few things seemed to Newland Archer more awful than an offence against "Taste," that far-off divinity of whom "Form" was the mere visible representative and vicegerent. Madame Olenska's pale and serious face appealed to his fancy as suited to the occasion and to her unhappy situation; but the way her dress (which had no tucker) sloped away from her thin shoulders shocked and troubled him. He hated to think of May Welland's being exposed to the influence of a young woman so careless of the dictates of Taste.
"After all," he heard one of the younger men begin behind him (everybody talked through the Mephistopheles- and-Martha scenes), "after all, just WHAT happened?"
"Well--she left him; nobody attempts to deny that."
"He's an awful brute, isn't he?" continued the young enquirer, a candid Thorley, who was evidently preparing to enter the lists as the lady's champion.
"The very worst; I knew him at Nice," said Lawrence Lefferts with authority. "A half-paralysed white sneering fellow--rather handsome head, but eyes with a lot of lashes. Well, I'll tell you the sort: when he wasn't with women he was collecting china. Paying any price for both, I understand."
There was a general laugh, and the young champion said: "Well, then----?"
"Well, then; she bolted with his secretary."
"Oh, I see." The champion's face fell.
"It didn't last long, though: I heard of her a few months later living alone in Venice. I believe Lovell Mingott went out to get her. He said she was desperately unhappy. That's all right--but this parading her at the Opera's another thing."
"Perhaps," young Thorley hazarded, "she's too unhappy to be left at home."
This was greeted with an irreverent laugh, and the youth blushed deeply, and tried to look as if he had meant to insinuate what knowing people called a "double entendre."
"Well--it's queer to have brought Miss Welland, anyhow," some one said in a low tone, with a side- glance at Archer.
"Oh, that's part of the campaign: Granny's orders, no doubt," Lefferts laughed. "When the old lady does a thing she does it thoroughly."
The act was ending, and there was a general stir in the box. Suddenly Newland Archer felt himself impelled to decisive action. The desire to be the first man to enter Mrs. Mingott's box, to proclaim to the waiting world his engagement to May Welland, and to see her through whatever difficulties her cousin's anomalous situation might involve her in; this impulse had abruptly overruled all scruples and hesitations, and sent him hurrying through the red corridors to the farther side of the house.
As he entered the box his eyes met Miss Welland's, and he saw that she had instantly understood his motive, though the family dignity which both considered so high a virtue would not permit her to tell him so. The persons of their world lived in an atmosphere of faint implications and pale delicacies, and the fact that he and she understood each other without a word seemed to the young man to bring them nearer than any explanation would have done. Her eyes said: "You see why Mamma brought me," and his answered: "I would not for the world have had you stay away."
"You know my niece Countess Olenska?" Mrs. Welland enquired as she shook hands with her future son- in-law. Archer bowed without extending his hand, as was the custom on being introduced to a lady; and Ellen Olenska bent her head slightly, keeping her own pale-gloved hands clasped on her huge fan of eagle feathers. Having greeted Mrs. Lovell Mingott, a large blonde lady in creaking satin, he sat down beside his betrothed, and said in a low tone: "I hope you've told Madame Olenska that we're engaged? I want everybody to know--I want you to let me announce it this evening at the ball."
Miss Welland's face grew rosy as the dawn, and she looked at him with radiant eyes. "If you can persuade Mamma," she said; "but why should we change what is already settled?" He made no answer but that which his eyes returned, and she added, still more confidently smiling: "Tell my cousin yourself: I give you leave. She says she used to play with you when you were children."
She made way for him by pushing back her chair, and promptly, and a little ostentatiously, with the desire that the whole house should see what he was doing, Archer seated himself at the Countess Olenska's side.
"We DID use to play together, didn't we?" she asked, turning her grave eyes to his. "You were a horrid boy, and kissed me once behind a door; but it was your cousin Vandie Newland, who never looked at me, that I was in love with." Her glance swept the horse-shoe curve of boxes. "Ah, how this brings it all back to me--I see everybody here in knickerbockers and pantalettes," she said, with her trailing slightly foreign accent, her eyes returning to his face.
Agreeable as their expression was, the young man was shocked that they should reflect so unseemly a picture of the august tribunal before which, at that very moment, her case was being tried. Nothing could be in worse taste than misplaced flippancy; and he answered somewhat stiffly: "Yes, you have been away a very long time."
"Oh, centuries and centuries; so long," she said, "that I'm sure I'm dead and buried, and this dear old place is heaven;" which, for reasons he could not define, struck Newland Archer as an even more disrespectful way of describing New York society.
讨厌的是，如此吸引着纽约男性世界全部注意力的包厢竟是他未婚妻就坐的那 一个，她坐在母亲与舅妈中间。他一时竟认不出那位穿着法国30年代服装的女士， 也想象不出她的出现为什么会在俱乐部会员中引起如此的兴奋。接着，他明白过来， 并随之产生一阵愤慨。的确，没有人会想到明戈特家的人会摆出这种架式！
然而他们这样做了。毫无疑义，他们是这样做了；因为阿切尔身后低声的评论 使他心中没有丝毫怀疑，那位年轻女子就是梅·韦兰的表姐，那位家里人一直称作 “可怜的埃伦·奥兰斯卡”的表姐。阿切尔知道她一两天前突然从欧洲回来了，甚 至还听韦兰小姐（并非不满地）说过，她已经去看过可怜的埃伦了。她住在老明戈 特太太那儿。阿切尔完全拥护家族的团结。他最崇拜的明戈特家族的品德之一，就 是他们对家族中出的几个不肖子弟的坚决支持。他并不自私，也不是小鸡肚肠；他 未来的妻子没有受到假正经的局限，能（私下）善待她不幸的表姐，他还为此感到 高兴。然而，在家庭圈子内接待奥兰斯卡伯爵夫人是一回事，把她带到公共场所， 尤其是歌剧院这样的地方，则是完全不同的另一回事。而且就在那位年轻姑娘的包 厢里，她与他纽兰·阿切尔的订婚消息几周之内就要宣布。是的，他的感觉与老西 勒顿·杰克逊一样：他没想到明戈特家的人会摆出这种架式！
他当然知道，男人敢做的任何事（第五大街范围之内），老曼森·明戈特太太 这位女族长都敢做。他一向崇拜这位高大刚毅的老夫人，尽管她原来不过是斯塔腾 岛的凯瑟琳·斯派塞，有一位神秘的名誉扫地的父亲，那件事无论金钱还是地位都 难以让人们忘记。然而，她却与富有的明戈特家族的领头人联了姻，把两个女儿嫁 给了“外国人”（一个意大利侯爵，一个英国银行家），并且在中央公园附近无法 插足的荒地里建了一所乳白色石头大宅院（正值棕色沙石仿佛像下午的长礼服那样 青一色的时候），从而达到了登峰造极的地步。
老明戈特太太的两个外籍女儿成了一则神话故事。她们从不回来看望母亲。母 亲依恋故土且身体肥胖，像许多思想活跃意志专横的人那样，一直达观地留在家中， 而那幢乳白色的房子（据说是仿照巴黎贵族的私人旅馆建造的）却成了她大无畏精 神的见证。她在里面登上宝座，平静地生活在独立战争前的家具与路易·拿破仑杜 伊勒利宫（她中年时曾在那儿大出风头）的纪念品中间，仿佛住在34街以北、用开 得像门一样大的法式窗户代替推拉式吊窗丝毫不足为怪似的。
人人（包括西勒顿·杰克逊先生）都一致认为，老凯瑟琳从没拥有过美貌，而 在纽约人眼中，美貌是成功的保证，也可作为某些失败的借口。不友善的人们说， 像她那位大英帝国的同名女人一样，她获得成功靠的是意志力量与冷酷心肠， 外加一种由于私生活绝对正派而使她在一定程度上免遭非议的傲慢。曼森·明戈特 先生去世的时候她只有28岁。出于对斯派塞家族的不信任，他用一条附加条款“冻 结”了自己的遗产。他那位年轻、果敢的遗孀大无畏地走着自己的路，她无拘无束 地混迹在外国的社交界，把女儿嫁到天知道何等腐化时髦的圈子里，与公爵大使们 开怀畅饮，与教皇家亲密交往，款待歌剧演员，并做了芭蕾名门之后塔戈里奥 尼夫人的密友。与此同时（正如西勒顿·杰克逊首先宣布的），关于她的名声却从 没有一句口舌。这是她惟一一点，他总是接着说，与以前那位凯瑟琳的不同之处。
曼森·明戈特太太早已解冻了丈夫的财产，并殷殷实实地活了半个世纪。早年 困境的记忆使她格外节俭，虽然她在买衣服或添置家具时总是关照要最好的，但却 舍不得为餐桌上瞬间的享乐过多破费。所以，由于完全不同的原因，她的饭菜跟阿 切尔太太家一样差，她的酒也不能为之增光添彩。亲戚们认为，她餐桌上的吝啬损 害了明戈特家的名誉——它一向是与吃喝讲究连在一起的。然而人们还是不顾那些 “拼盘”与走味的香摈，继续到她家来。针对她儿子洛弗尔的劝告（他企图雇佣纽 约最好的厨师以恢复家族的名誉），她常常笑着说：“既然姑娘们都嫁出去了，我 又不能用调味品，一个家庭用两个好厨师还有什么用？”
纽兰·阿切尔一面沉思着这些事情，又把目光转向了明戈特包厢。他见韦兰太 太与她的嫂嫂正带着老凯瑟琳向族人灌输的那种明戈特家特有的自恃面对着组成半 圆形的批评者。只有梅·韦兰面色绯红（也许由于知道他在看她），流露出事态严 峻的意味。至于引起骚动的那一位，依然优雅地坐在包厢角落里，两眼凝视着舞台。 由于身体前倾，她肩膀和胸部露得比纽约社会习惯看到的稍稍多了一点，至少在那 些有理由希望不引起注意的女士们中间是如此。
在纽兰·阿切尔看来，很少有什么事比与“品味”相悖更难堪的了。品味是一 种看不见的神韵，“举止”仅仅是它直观的替代物与代表。奥兰斯卡夫人苍白而严 肃的面孔，按他的想象是适合于这种场合及她的不幸处境的，但她的衣服（没有衣 领）从那单薄的肩头坡下去的样式却令他震惊不安。他不愿设想梅·韦兰受到一个 如此不顾品味和情趣的年轻女子的影响。
“究竟——”他听到身后一个年轻人开口说（在靡菲斯特与玛莎的几场戏中， 大家自始至终都在交谈），“究竟发生了什么事？”
“哦——她离开了他；谁也不想否认这一点。”
“他是个可怕的畜牲，不是吗？”年轻人接着说，他是索利家族中一位直率的 人，显然准备加入那位女士的护花使者之列。
“一个糟糕透了的家伙；我在尼斯见过他，”劳伦斯·莱弗茨以权威的口气说。 “老喝得半醉，苍白的面孔上露出讥笑——但脑袋倒很漂亮，不过眼睫毛太多。噢， 我来告诉你他那德行：他不是跟女人在一起，就是去收集瓷器。据我所知，他对两 者都不惜任何代价。”
这话引出一阵哄堂大笑，那位年轻的护花使者说：“唔，可是——”
“唔，可是，她跟他的秘书逃跑了。”
“噢，我明白了。”护花使者的脸沉了下来。
“可是，这并没有持续多久：我听说她几个月后就独自住在威尼斯，我相信洛 弗尔·明戈特那次出国是去找她的。他曾说她非常地不快活。现在没事了——不过 在歌剧院里这样炫耀她却另当别论。”
“也许，”那位小索利冒险地说，“她太不快活了，不会愿意一个人被晾在家 里。”
这话引来一阵无礼的笑声，年轻人脸色深红，竭力装出是想巧妙使用聪明人所 说的“双关语”的样子。
“唔——不管怎么说，把韦兰小姐带来总是令人费解，”有人悄悄地说，一面 斜视了阿切尔一眼。
“噢，这是运动的一个组成部分嘛：肯定是老祖宗的命令，”莱弗茨笑着说。 “老夫人要是干一件事，总要干得完全彻底。”
这一幕结束了，包厢里一阵普遍的骚动。纽兰·阿切尔突然感到必须采取果断 行动。他要第一个走进明戈特太太的包厢，第一个向期望中的社交界宣布他与梅· 韦兰的订婚消息，第一个去帮助她度过表姐的异常处境可能使她卷人的任何困难。 这一冲动猛然间压倒了一切顾虑与迟疑，促使他匆匆穿过一节节红色走廊，向剧院 较远的一端走去。
进入包厢的时候，他的眼睛遇到了韦兰小姐的目光，而且他发现她立即明白了 他的来意，尽管家族的尊严不允许她对他明讲——两个人都认为这是一种很高尚的 美德。他们这个圈子的人都生活在一种含而不露、稍显矜持的气氛中，年轻人觉得， 他与她不用说一句话就能互相沟通，任何解释都不能使他们更加贴近。她的眼睛在 说：“你明白妈妈为什么带我来。”他的眼睛则回答：“无论如何我都不肯让你离 开这儿。”
“你认识我的侄女奥兰斯卡伯爵夫人吗？”韦兰太太与她未来的女婿握手时问 道。按照引见给女士的习惯，阿切尔欠一子，没有伸出手；埃伦·奥兰斯卡轻 轻低一下头，两只戴浅色手套的手继续握着那把大鹰毛扇子。与洛弗尔·明戈特太 太打过招呼——她是个大块头的金发女人，穿一身悉索作响的缎子衣裙——他在未 婚妻的身旁坐下，低声说：“我希望你已经告诉奥兰斯卡夫人我们订婚了吧？我想 让每个人都知道——我要你允许我今晚在舞会上宣布。”
韦兰小姐的脸变成曙光般的玫瑰红色，她两眼发光地看着他。“如果你能说服 妈妈的话，”她说，“不过，已经定了的事，干吗要改变呢？”他没有说话，只用 眼睛做了回答。她信心更足地笑着补充说：“你自己告诉我表姐吧，我允许你。她 说你还是孩子的时候，她常和你一起玩耍。”
她把椅子向后推了推，给他让出了路。阿切尔怀着一种让全场的人都能看见自 己的举动的愿望，立刻示威性地坐到了奥兰斯卡伯爵夫人身边。
“我们过去的确常在一起玩，不是吗？”她问道，一面用严肃的目光看着他的 眼睛。“你那时是个很讨厌的男孩，有一次你在门后面吻了我，但那时我爱上的却 是你的堂兄范迪·纽兰，可他从来不看我一眼。”她的目光扫视着那些马蹄形排列 的包厢。“啊，这场面多让我回想起过去的一切啊——我发现这里人人都穿灯笼裤 或宽松裤，”她带着略微拖长的异国口音说，目光又回到他的脸上。
这番话尽管表达的感情是令人愉快的，却竟然使他想到了威严的法庭，这一不 相称的联想令年轻人感到震惊。而此时此刻，这个法庭就摆在她的面前，她的案子 正在进行审理。没有什么东西比不合时宜的轻率更有伤大雅了。他有点生硬地回答 说：“是啊，你离开这儿已经很久了。”
“啊，好像有好几百年了。太久了，”她说，“让我觉得自己已经死了，被埋 掉了，而这方亲切的故土就是天堂。”说不清是什么理由，纽兰·阿切尔只觉得这 样形容纽约社会就更加失礼了。
It was annoying that the box which was thus attracting the undivided attention of masculine New York should be that in which his betrothed was seated between her mother and aunt; and for a moment he could not identify the lady in the Empire dress, nor imagine why her presence created such excitement among the initiated. Then light dawned on him, and with it came a momentary rush of indignation. No, indeed; no one would have thought the Mingotts would have tried it on!
But they had; they undoubtedly had; for the low- toned comments behind him left no doubt in Archer's mind that the young woman was May Welland's cousin, the cousin always referred to in the family as "poor Ellen Olenska." Archer knew that she had suddenly arrived from Europe a day or two previously; he had even heard from Miss Welland (not disapprovingly) that she had been to see poor Ellen, who was staying with old Mrs. Mingott. Archer entirely approved of family solidarity, and one of the qualities he most admired in the Mingotts was their resolute championship of the few black sheep that their blameless stock had produced. There was nothing mean or ungenerous in the young man's heart, and he was glad that his future wife should not be restrained by false prudery from being kind (in private) to her unhappy cousin; but to receive Countess Olenska in the family circle was a different thing from producing her in public, at the Opera of all places, and in the very box with the young girl whose engagement to him, Newland Archer, was to be announced within a few weeks. No, he felt as old Sillerton Jackson felt; he did not think the Mingotts would have tried it on!
He knew, of course, that whatever man dared (within Fifth Avenue's limits) that old Mrs. Manson Mingott, the Matriarch of the line, would dare. He had always admired the high and mighty old lady, who, in spite of having been only Catherine Spicer of Staten Island, with a father mysteriously discredited, and neither money nor position enough to make people forget it, had allied herself with the head of the wealthy Mingott line, married two of her daughters to "foreigners" (an Italian marquis and an English banker), and put the crowning touch to her audacities by building a large house of pale cream-coloured stone (when brown sandstone seemed as much the only wear as a frock-coat in the afternoon) in an inaccessible wilderness near the Central Park.
Old Mrs. Mingott's foreign daughters had become a legend. They never came back to see their mother, and the latter being, like many persons of active mind and dominating will, sedentary and corpulent in her habit, had philosophically remained at home. But the cream- coloured house (supposed to be modelled on the private hotels of the Parisian aristocracy) was there as a visible proof of her moral courage; and she throned in it, among pre-Revolutionary furniture and souvenirs of the Tuileries of Louis Napoleon (where she had shone in her middle age), as placidly as if there were nothing peculiar in living above Thirty-fourth Street, or in having French windows that opened like doors instead of sashes that pushed up.
Every one (including Mr. Sillerton Jackson) was agreed that old Catherine had never had beauty--a gift which, in the eyes of New York, justified every success, and excused a certain number of failings. Unkind people said that, like her Imperial namesake, she had won her way to success by strength of will and hardness of heart, and a kind of haughty effrontery that was somehow justified by the extreme decency and dignity of her private life. Mr. Manson Mingott had died when she was only twenty-eight, and had "tied up" the money with an additional caution born of the general distrust of the Spicers; but his bold young widow went her way fearlessly, mingled freely in foreign society, married her daughters in heaven knew what corrupt and fashionable circles, hobnobbed with Dukes and Ambassadors, associated familiarly with Papists, entertained Opera singers, and was the intimate friend of Mme. Taglioni; and all the while (as Sillerton Jackson was the first to proclaim) there had never been a breath on her reputation; the only respect, he always added, in which she differed from the earlier Catherine.
Mrs. Manson Mingott had long since succeeded in untying her husband's fortune, and had lived in affluence for half a century; but memories of her early straits had made her excessively thrifty, and though, when she bought a dress or a piece of furniture, she took care that it should be of the best, she could not bring herself to spend much on the transient pleasures of the table. Therefore, for totally different reasons, her food was as poor as Mrs. Archer's, and her wines did nothing to redeem it. Her relatives considered that the penury of her table discredited the Mingott name, which had always been associated with good living; but people continued to come to her in spite of the "made dishes" and flat champagne, and in reply to the remonstrances of her son Lovell (who tried to retrieve the family credit by having the best chef in New York) she used to say laughingly: "What's the use of two good cooks in one family, now that I've married the girls and can't eat sauces?"
Newland Archer, as he mused on these things, had once more turned his eyes toward the Mingott box. He saw that Mrs. Welland and her sister-in-law were facing their semicircle of critics with the Mingottian APLOMB which old Catherine had inculcated in all her tribe, and that only May Welland betrayed, by a heightened colour (perhaps due to the knowledge that he was watching her) a sense of the gravity of the situation. As for the cause of the commotion, she sat gracefully in her corner of the box, her eyes fixed on the stage, and revealing, as she leaned forward, a little more shoulder and bosom than New York was accustomed to seeing, at least in ladies who had reasons for wishing to pass unnoticed.
Few things seemed to Newland Archer more awful than an offence against "Taste," that far-off divinity of whom "Form" was the mere visible representative and vicegerent. Madame Olenska's pale and serious face appealed to his fancy as suited to the occasion and to her unhappy situation; but the way her dress (which had no tucker) sloped away from her thin shoulders shocked and troubled him. He hated to think of May Welland's being exposed to the influence of a young woman so careless of the dictates of Taste.
"After all," he heard one of the younger men begin behind him (everybody talked through the Mephistopheles- and-Martha scenes), "after all, just WHAT happened?"
"Well--she left him; nobody attempts to deny that."
"He's an awful brute, isn't he?" continued the young enquirer, a candid Thorley, who was evidently preparing to enter the lists as the lady's champion.
"The very worst; I knew him at Nice," said Lawrence Lefferts with authority. "A half-paralysed white sneering fellow--rather handsome head, but eyes with a lot of lashes. Well, I'll tell you the sort: when he wasn't with women he was collecting china. Paying any price for both, I understand."
There was a general laugh, and the young champion said: "Well, then----?"
"Well, then; she bolted with his secretary."
"Oh, I see." The champion's face fell.
"It didn't last long, though: I heard of her a few months later living alone in Venice. I believe Lovell Mingott went out to get her. He said she was desperately unhappy. That's all right--but this parading her at the Opera's another thing."
"Perhaps," young Thorley hazarded, "she's too unhappy to be left at home."
This was greeted with an irreverent laugh, and the youth blushed deeply, and tried to look as if he had meant to insinuate what knowing people called a "double entendre."
"Well--it's queer to have brought Miss Welland, anyhow," some one said in a low tone, with a side- glance at Archer.
"Oh, that's part of the campaign: Granny's orders, no doubt," Lefferts laughed. "When the old lady does a thing she does it thoroughly."
The act was ending, and there was a general stir in the box. Suddenly Newland Archer felt himself impelled to decisive action. The desire to be the first man to enter Mrs. Mingott's box, to proclaim to the waiting world his engagement to May Welland, and to see her through whatever difficulties her cousin's anomalous situation might involve her in; this impulse had abruptly overruled all scruples and hesitations, and sent him hurrying through the red corridors to the farther side of the house.
As he entered the box his eyes met Miss Welland's, and he saw that she had instantly understood his motive, though the family dignity which both considered so high a virtue would not permit her to tell him so. The persons of their world lived in an atmosphere of faint implications and pale delicacies, and the fact that he and she understood each other without a word seemed to the young man to bring them nearer than any explanation would have done. Her eyes said: "You see why Mamma brought me," and his answered: "I would not for the world have had you stay away."
"You know my niece Countess Olenska?" Mrs. Welland enquired as she shook hands with her future son- in-law. Archer bowed without extending his hand, as was the custom on being introduced to a lady; and Ellen Olenska bent her head slightly, keeping her own pale-gloved hands clasped on her huge fan of eagle feathers. Having greeted Mrs. Lovell Mingott, a large blonde lady in creaking satin, he sat down beside his betrothed, and said in a low tone: "I hope you've told Madame Olenska that we're engaged? I want everybody to know--I want you to let me announce it this evening at the ball."
Miss Welland's face grew rosy as the dawn, and she looked at him with radiant eyes. "If you can persuade Mamma," she said; "but why should we change what is already settled?" He made no answer but that which his eyes returned, and she added, still more confidently smiling: "Tell my cousin yourself: I give you leave. She says she used to play with you when you were children."
She made way for him by pushing back her chair, and promptly, and a little ostentatiously, with the desire that the whole house should see what he was doing, Archer seated himself at the Countess Olenska's side.
"We DID use to play together, didn't we?" she asked, turning her grave eyes to his. "You were a horrid boy, and kissed me once behind a door; but it was your cousin Vandie Newland, who never looked at me, that I was in love with." Her glance swept the horse-shoe curve of boxes. "Ah, how this brings it all back to me--I see everybody here in knickerbockers and pantalettes," she said, with her trailing slightly foreign accent, her eyes returning to his face.
Agreeable as their expression was, the young man was shocked that they should reflect so unseemly a picture of the august tribunal before which, at that very moment, her case was being tried. Nothing could be in worse taste than misplaced flippancy; and he answered somewhat stiffly: "Yes, you have been away a very long time."
"Oh, centuries and centuries; so long," she said, "that I'm sure I'm dead and buried, and this dear old place is heaven;" which, for reasons he could not define, struck Newland Archer as an even more disrespectful way of describing New York society.