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HxHPRC: Enjoy your hours!
Edited By Tameem666
Well!
I didn't think the Mingotts would have tried it on.
Parading her at the opera.
Sitting her next to May Welland. It's all very odd.
Well, she's had such an odd life.
Will they bring her to the Beauforts' ball?
If they do, the talk will be of little else.
Good evening, Mrs. Welland, May.
Newland.
You know my niece, Countess Olenska.
Countess.
I hope you've told Madame Olenska.
What?
That we're engaged.
I want everybody to know.
Let me announce it at the ball.
If you can persuade Mama.
Why should we change what is settled?
But you can tell my cousin yourself. She remembers you.
I remember we played together.
How this brings it all back to me.
I remember everybody in knickerbockers and pantalettes.
You were horrid.
You kissed me once behind a door.
But it was Vandy, who never looked at me, that I loved.
- You have been away a very long time. - Centuries and centuries.
So long, I'm sure I'm dead and this dear place is heaven.
It invariably happened, as everything did in those days...
...in the same way.
...Mrs. Julius Beaufort appeared, unaccompanied by her husband...
...just before "The Jewel Song. "
And, again as usual, rose at the end of the third act...
...and disappeared.
New York then knew that a half-hour later...
...the Beauforts' annual opera ball would begin.
Carriages waited at the curb for the entire performance.
It was known in New York but never acknowledged...
...that Americans want to leave amusement...
...even more quickly than they want to get to it.
The Beauforts' house was one of the few in New York with a ballroom.
Such a room, shuttered in darkness 364 days of the year...
...was felt to compensate for whatever was regrettable in the Beaufort past.
Regina Beaufort came from an old South Carolina family.
But her husband, Julius, who passed for an Englishman...
...was known to have dissipated habits, a bitter tongue...
...and mysterious antecedents.
His marriage assured him a social position...
...but not necessarily respect.
Newland Archer hadn't stopped at his club, as young men usually did...
...but came directly to the ball.
He wanted the announcement of his engagement...
...to divert gossip away from the countess...
...and show his most ardent support for May and her whole family.
The Beaufort house had been boldly planned.
Instead of squeezing through a passage to get to the ballroom...
...one marched solemnly down a vista of enfiladed drawing rooms.
But only by passing through the crimson drawing room...
...could one see The Return of Spring...
...the much-discussed nude by Bouguereau...
Archer enjoyed such challenges to convention.
He questioned conformity in private...
...but in public he upheld family and tradition.
This was a world balanced so precariously...
...that its harmony could be shattered by a whisper.
On the whole, Archer was amused by the smooth hypocrisies of his peers.
He may even have envied them.
Lawrence Lefferts, for instance...
...was New York's foremost authority on form.
His opinion on pumps versus patent-leather oxfords...
...had never been disputed.
On matters of surreptitious romance...
...his skills went unquestioned.
Old Mr. Sillerton Jackson was as great an authority on family...
...as Lawrence Lefferts was on form.
The mean and melancholy history of Countess Olenska's European marriage...
...was a buried treasure he hastened to excavate.
He carried, like a calling card...
...an entire register of the scandals and mysteries...
...that had smoldered under the unruffled surface of society...
...for the last 50 years.
Now, Julius Beaufort's secret was the way he carried things off.
He could arrive casually at his party as if he were another guest...
...and might leave early...
...for a more modest but comforting address in the East 30s.
He was intrepid in his business...
...but in his personal affairs, absolutely audacious.
Archer's fiancee was innocent of all these intrigues and of much else.
May Welland represented for Archer all that was best in their world...
...all that he honored. And she anchored him to it.
I've told my friends, just as you asked.
I couldn't wait.
- I wish it hadn't been at a ball. - But even here we're alone.
The worst of it is that I want to kiss you and I can't.
Did you tell Ellen as I asked you to?
I didn't have a chance after all.
She's my cousin. If others know before she does....
She's been away for so long. She's rather sensitive.
I'll tell her. But I didn't see her yet.
- She didn't come at the last minute. - At the last minute?
She thought her dress wasn't smart enough.
We thought it was lovely, but she asked to be taken home.
Oh, well.
Very handsome.
Very liberal.
In my time, a cameo set in pearls was thought to be sufficient.
But it's the hand that sets off the ring, isn't it?
The setting shows the stone beautifully.
But it looks bare to old-fashioned eyes.
I hope you don't mean mine, my dear. I like all the novelties.
My hands were modeled in Paris by the great Rochet. He should do May's.
Show me, child.
Her hand is so tempered.
These modern sports spread the joints.
But the skin is white.
When's the wedding?
Soon, if only you'll back me up, Mrs. Mingott.
We must give them time to know each other better.
Know each other?
Everyone in New York has always known everyone.
Don't wait till the bubble's off the wine. Marry before Lent.
I may catch pneumonia, and I want to give the wedding breakfast.
What a kind offer.
Even if she hadn't been May's grandmother...
...Mrs. Manson Mingott would have been the first to receive...
...the required betrothal visit.
She was not only the matriarch of this world...
...she was nearly its dowager empress.
Much of New York was related to her...
...and she knew the remainder by marriage or by reputation.
Though brownstone was the norm...
...she lived magisterially within a large house...
...of controversial pale, cream-colored stone...
...in an inaccessible wilderness near the Central Park.
The burden of her flesh had long since made it impossible...
...for her to climb stairs.
So with characteristic independence...
...she had established herself on the ground floor of her house.
From her sitting room, there was an unexpected vista of her bedroom.
Her visitors were fascinated by the foreignness of this arrangement...
...which recalled scenes in French fiction.
This was how women with lovers lived in the wicked old societies.
But if she had wanted a lover...
...the intrepid woman would have had him too.
For now, she was content simply...
...and to anticipate eagerly the union of Newland Archer...
...with her granddaughter, May.
In them, two of New York's best families...
...would finally and momentously be joined.
- Goodbye, Mama. - Goodbye.
Ellen.
Beaufort, this is a rare favor.
Unnecessarily rare, I'd say.
I met Countess Ellen, and she let me walk home with her.
This house will be merrier now that she's here.
- Thank you. - Beaufort, pull up that tuffet.
I want a good gossip.
You already know about May and me.
She scolded me for not telling you.
Of course I know, and I'm so glad.
One doesn't tell such news first in a crowd.
Careful there.
Don't catch your ring on your sleeve.
Goodbye.
Come and see me someday.
It's a mistake for Ellen to parade up 5th Avenue with Julius...
...at the crowded hour...
...the very day after her arrival.
He's so flagrant. Even his wife must know about Annie Ring.
Sillerton Jackson enjoyed his frequent visits to the Archer home...
...more than the actual dining.
Newland Archer's mother...
...and his sister Janey were both shy women and shrank from society.
But they liked to be well-informed and doted on their bachelor friend.
Certain nuances escape Beaufort.
Necessarily. Beaufort is a vulgar man.
Not in business. Most of New York trusts him with its affairs.
My Grandfather Newland always told Mother:
"Don't let that Beaufort be introduced to the girls."
At least he's had the advantage of association with gentlemen.
The Archers and the Mingotts were the sturdiest branches...
...of New York's tangled family tree.
Granny Mingott's family could embrace May's traditionalism...
...and tolerate Ellen's unconventionality.
But Archer's family held fast to the old ways.
His mother and sister relied on him for every security.
He would always be, Mrs. Archer assured May's mother:
"Their strong right hand. "
Was our new cousin at the ball?
I appreciate the Mingotts' support of her, having her at the opera.
I admire their esprit de corps.
But why my son's engagement...
...should be mixed up with her comings and goings, I don't see.
In any case, she was not at the ball.
At least she had that decency.
Does she wear a round hat or a bonnet in the afternoon?
The dress she wore to the opera was so plain.
- It was in better taste not to go. - It wasn't taste.
May said Ellen decided her dress wasn't smart enough.
Poor Ellen.
We must always remember the eccentric bringing-up she had.
What can you expect of a girl who wore black satin at her coming-out ball?
It's odd she kept such an ugly name as Ellen when she married the count.
I'd have changed it to Elaine.
Why?
I don't know.
It sounds more...
...Polish.
It sounds more conspicuous. That can hardly be what she wishes.
Why shouldn't she be conspicuous if she chooses?
She made an awful marriage, but should she hide her head?
Should she slink around as if she disgraced herself?
She's had a sad life. That doesn't make her an outcast.
I'm sure that's the line the Mingotts mean to take.
I needn't wait for their cue, if that's what you mean.
I'm told she's looking for a house. She intends to live here.
I hear she means to get a divorce.
I hope she will.
Understandably, her marriage was intolerable.
- There are the rumors too. - I've heard them.
The secretary.
He helped get her away from the husband.
They say the count kept her practically a prisoner.
Certainly the count had his own way of life.
- You knew him? - I heard of him at Nice.
Handsome, they say...
...but eyes with a lot of lashes.
When he wasn't with women...
...he was collecting china.
Paying any price for both, I understand.
Then where's the blame?
Any one of us would have helped the countess, just as the secretary did.
He was still helping her a year later.
Somebody met them living together at Lausanne.
Living together?
Why not? She has the right to make her life over.
Why bury a woman alive if her husband prefers whores?
It's hardly a question of entombment.
The countess is here, after all.
Or do you believe a woman should share the same freedoms as men?
I suppose I do. Yes, I do.
Apparently Count Olenski takes a similarly modern view.
I never heard of him lifting a finger to get his wife back.
Three days later, the unthinkable happened.
Mrs. Manson Mingott sent out invitations...
...summoning everyone to a formal dinner.
Such an occasion demanded the most careful consideration.
It required the appropriate plate.
It called for three extra footmen...
...two dishes for each course and a Roman punch in the middle.
The dinner, read the invitation...
...was "to meet the Countess Olenska. "
And New York declined.
"Regret, unable to accept. "
And from our own family.
No one cares enough...
They all lived in a kind of hieroglyphic world.
The real thing was never said or done or even thought...
...but only represented by a set of arbitrary signs.
Archer knew these signs. They were not subtle and were not meant to be.
They were more than a simple snubbing.
They were an eradication.
There was a single court of appeal.
He would plead their case before the van der Luydens.
And all this, you think, is due to some intentional interference by--
Larry Lefferts. I'm certain of it.
The van der Luydens dwelled above all the cities' families...
...in a kind of super terrestrial twilight.
Archer appealed to their exquisitely refined sense of tribal order.
And he spoke plainly.
Whenever poor Gertrude Lefferts begins to suspect her husband of something...
...Larry makes some great diversionary fuss to show how moral he is.
It's the principle that I dislike.
I mean, if a member of a well-known family is backed by that family...
...it should be considered final.
We felt this slight on the countess shouldn't pass without consulting you.
We're giving a dinner for our cousin, the Duke of St. Austrey...
...who arrives next week on the Russia.
I'm sure Louisa will be as glad as I am...
...if Countess Olenska will let us include her among our guests.
The occasion was a solemn one.
But the countess arrived rather late...
...signaling a carelessness of which she was entirely unaware.
She entered, without haste or embarrassment...
...the drawing room in which New York's most chosen company...
...was somewhat awfully assembled.
Countess Olenska.
Good evening.
We're delighted you're here.
The Duke of St. Austrey. May I present Countess Olenska.
The Trevenna George ll plate was out.
So was the van der Luyden Lowestoft from the East India Company...
...and the Dagonet Crown Derby.
Dining with the van der Luydens was, at best, no light matter.
Dining there with a duke who was their cousin...
...was almost a religious solemnity.
When the van der Luyden's chose, they knew how to give a lesson.
Excuse me.
It was not the custom in New York...
...for a lady to get up and walk away from one gentleman...
...in order to seek the company of another.
But the countess did not observe this rule.
I want you to talk to me about May.
You knew the duke before?
From Nice.
We saw him every winter. He's fond of gambling and came to our house often.
He wears the same suit every evening. He thinks it brings him luck.
He's the dullest man I ever met.
But he seems to be admired here.
May I tell you what most interests me about New York?
Not all the blind obeying of somebody else's tradition.
It seems stupid to make America a copy of another country.
Would Columbus have taken such trouble just to go to the opera with Lefferts?
If he'd known Larry Lefferts were here, he might never have left port.
And May? Does she share these views?
If she does, she'd never say so.
Are you very much in love with her?
As much as a man can be.
Do you think there's a limit?
If there is, I haven't found it.
It's really and truly a romance then.
Not in the least arranged?
In our country, we don't allow our marriages to be arranged.
Yes, I forgot. I'm sorry.
I sometimes make these mistakes.
I don't always remember that everything here is good...
...that was bad where I came from.
I'm so sorry.
But you know you are among friends here.
Yes, I know. That's why I came home.
You'll want to be with May.
She's already surrounded by so many rivals.
Then stay with me a little longer.
Yes.
Mr. Urban Dagonet, the Countess Olenska.
- How do you do, my dear? - How do you do?
Tomorrow then, after 5, I'll expect you.
Tomorrow.
Excuse me.
It was good of you to devote yourself...
...to Madame Olenska so unselfishly, dear Newland.
I told Henry he really must rescue you.
I think I've never seen May looking lovelier.
The duke thinks her the handsomest woman in the room.
Mr. Archer.
So how do you like this odd little house?
To me, it's like heaven.
You've arranged it delightfully.
Some of the things I managed to bring with me.
Little pieces of wreckage.
At least it's less gloomy than the van der Luydens'...
...and not so difficult to be alone.
I'm sure it's often thought the van der Luydens' is gloomy...
...though I've never heard it said before.
Do you really like to be alone?
As long as my friends keep me from being lonely.
I see you've already chosen your corner.
- Please, sit. - Thank you.
This is the hour I like best.
Don't you?
I was afraid you'd forgotten the hour.
I'm sure Beaufort can be very intriguing.
He took me to see some houses.
I'm told I must move, even though this street seems perfectly respectable.
- Yes, but it's not fashionable. - Fashionable?
Is fashion such a serious consideration?
Among people with nothing more serious to consider.
Perhaps I've been too independent.
All I really want is to feel cared for and safe.
The van der Luydens do nothing by halves.
All New York laid itself out for you last night.
It was so kind. Such a nice party.
Cream or lemon?
Lemon, please.
The van der Luydens are the most powerful influence in society.
They very seldom receive because of Cousin Louisa's health.
- Perhaps that's the reason then. - Thank you. The reason?
For their influence. They make themselves so rare.
But of course you must tell me.
No, it's you telling me.
Then we can both help each other.
But I need help so much more.
There are so many people already...
...to tell you what to do.
I think they're all a little angry with me for setting up for myself.
Still, your family can advise you, show you the way.
Is New York such a labyrinth?
I thought it was all straight up and down, like 5th Avenue.
All the cross streets numbered...
...and big honest labels on everything.
Everything is labeled...
...but everybody is not.
I must count on you for warnings too.
All the older women like you. They want to help.
I know. As long as they don't hear anything unpleasant.
Does no one here want to know the truth, Mr. Archer?
The real loneliness is living among all these kind people...
...who only ask you to pretend.
No, you mustn't.
Madame Olenska.
Ellen....
Does no one cry here, either?
I suppose there's no need to.
Oh, Mr. Archer, good evening.
We didn't see you and weren't sure whether to send Miss Welland--
Lilies of the valley. Let's make it a standing order.
Very good, sir.
And those yellow roses. I'll give you another address.
Very good.
- They'll go at once? - At once.
It's wonderful to wake with lilies of the valley.
It's like being with you.
They came late yesterday, I know. Time got away from me.
But still, you always remember.
I sent roses to Ellen too. Was that right?
Very right.
She didn't mention it at lunch today, though.
...and a hamper of carnations from Henry van der Luyden.
She was so very delighted. Don't people send flowers in Europe?
- I know you consider it a long time. - Very long.
But the Chivers were engaged for a year and a half, the Lefferts for two.
Mama expects something customary.
Since you were little, you've had your way. You're almost 22.
Just tell your mother what you want.
I can't refuse her the last thing she'd ask of me.
Can't we just strike out for ourselves?
Shall we elope?
If you would, why not?
You do love me, Newland. I'm so happy.
Well, why not be happier?
I couldn't be happier, dearest.
I showed Ellen the ring. She thought it was the most beautiful setting.
She said there was nothing like it in the Rue de la Paix.
I do love you, Newland.
Everything you do is so special.
I want to call on your legal skills for a rather delicate matter.
Countess Olenska wants to divorce her husband.
It's been suggested she means to marry again...
...although she denies it.
I beg your pardon, but because of my engagement...
...perhaps another member of the firm could consider this.
Precisely because of your prospective alliance...
...and considering members of the family asked for you...
...I'd like you to consider it.
It's a family matter. Perhaps it's best settled by the family.
Their position is clear.
They're entirely and rightly against a divorce.
But Countess Olenska still insists on a legal opinion.
But, really, what's the use of a divorce?
She's here.
He's there.
The whole Atlantic's between them.
As things go, Olenski's acted generously.
He's returned some of the money without being asked.
She'll never get a dollar more than that.
Although I understand she attaches no importance to the money.
Considering all that, the wisest thing is to do as the family say.
Just let well enough alone.
I think that's for her to decide.
Have you considered the consequences if the countess decides for divorce?
- Consequences for the countess? - For everyone.
I don't think the count's accusations are anything more than vague charges.
It will make for some talk.
I've heard talk about the countess and the secretary...
...even before I read the legal papers.
It's certain to be unpleasant.
Unpleasant?
Divorce is always unpleasant, don't you agree?
Naturally.
Then I can count on you?
The family can count on you to use your influence against a divorce?
I can't promise that. Not until I've talked to the countess.
I don't understand you.
You want to marry into a family with a divorce hanging over it?
I don't think that has anything to do with the case.
Can someone take this to the countess?
You refuse such an invitation on threat of death.
Is it so bad?
Not if you have a taste for slow agony.
- I've neglected to cultivate that. - Three days with the van der Luydens!
- Take your fur and a hot-water bottle. - Is the house that cold?
- No, but Louisa is. - Mr. Archer.
Come to Delmonico's on Sunday. I'm having an oyster supper in your honor.
Private room, congenial company, artists and so on.
That's tempting. I haven't met a single artist since my arrival.
I know some painters I could bring to see you.
Painters? Are there any painters in New York?
Thank you, but I was really thinking of singers, actors, musicians...
...dramatic artists.
There were always so many at my husband's house.
May I let you know tomorrow? It's too late to decide tonight.
Is this late?
Of course, Newland...
...if you can persuade the countess to change her mind...
...you can join us too.
You know painters, then? You live in their milieu?
- Not exactly. - But you care about such things?
Immensely. When I'm in Europe, I never miss an exhibition.
I try to keep up.
I used to care immensely too.
My life was full of such things.
But now I want to cast off all my old life to be an American...
...and be like everyone else.
I doubt you'll ever quite be like everybody else.
Don't say that. I want to put all the old things behind me.
I know.
Mr. Letterblair told me.
Mr. Letterblair?
Yes, I've come because he asked me to. I'm in the firm.
You mean it'll be you who'll manage everything for me?
- I can talk to you. That's easier. - Yes, I'm here to talk about it.
I've read all the legal papers.
And the letter from the count.
It was vile.
But if he chooses to fight, he can say things that might be un--
That are disagreeable to you. Say them publicly...
...so that they could be damaging even if--
If...?
Even if they were unfounded.
What harm could accusations like that do me here?
Perhaps more harm than anywhere else.
Our legislation favors divorce, but our social customs don't.
Well, not if the woman...
...has appearances...
...in the least degree against her, has exposed herself...
...by any unconventional behavior...
...to offensive insinuations and....
Yes. So my family tell me.
Our family. You'll be my cousin soon.
And you agree with them?
What could you possibly gain that would make up for the scandal?
My freedom.
But aren't you free already?
It's my business to help you see these things...
...the way people who are fondest of you see them.
If I didn't show you how they judge such matters, it wouldn't be fair.
No, it wouldn't be fair.
Very well.
I'll do as you wish.
I do want to help you.
You do help me.
Good night, cousin.
For mercy's sake, don't cry so bitterly.
- Forget what I've done! - On one condition.
I accept it, whatever it may be.
Never speak a word of love to me again.
Never!
On my honor.
Heaven bless you.
Farewell.
It's fascinating.
Every season, same play, same scene, same effect on the audience.
Remarkable, isn't it?
I'm enjoying this more than in London.
Do you see this play when you travel? I'd travel to get away from it.
- Was it a dinner? - A reception at Mrs. Struthers'...
...given on the Lord's day...
...but with champagne and singing from the tabletops.
People say there was dancing.
It was a French Sunday then?
Dissipation can be wonderfully energizing in the early stages....
Do you think her lover will send her a box of yellow roses tomorrow morning?
I was thinking about that too.
The farewell scene.
Yes, I know.
It touches me as well.
I usually leave after that scene, to take the picture away with me.
They always spend the winter there, on account of her mother's bronchitis.
And what do you do while May is away?
I do my work.
I do want you to know what you advised me was right.
Things can be so difficult sometimes...
...and I'm so grateful.
The next day, Newland Archer searched the city in vain for yellow roses.
He sent a note to Madame Olenska...
...asking to call that afternoon and requesting a reply by messenger.
There was no reply that day or the next.
And when yellow roses were again available...
...Archer passed them by.
It was only on the third day that he heard from her by post...
...from the van der Luydens' home.
"Newland, I ran away the day after I saw you at the play...
...and these kind friends took me in.
I wanted to be quiet and think things over.
I feel so safe here. I wish that you were with us.
Yours sincerely."
He had received an invitation from the Lefferts for a weekend on the Hudson.
He hoped it was not too late to reply.
Their house was not far from the van der Luydens'.
I came to see what you ran away from.
- I knew you'd come. - That shows you wanted me to.
May wrote she asked you to take care of me.
- I didn't need to be asked. - Why?
Am I so helpless and defenseless?
Or are women here so blessed they never feel need?
What sort of need?
Oh, please, don't ask me. I don't speak your language.
Henry left the patroon house open for me. I want you to see it.
When you wrote me, you were unhappy.
Yes, but I can't feel unhappy when you're here.
I shan't be here long.
I know.
...if I'm really to help you...
...you must tell me what you're running from.
Is he what you're running from?
Or what you expected?
I didn't know he was here.
Hello, Beaufort.
This way. Madame Olenska was expecting you.
All this way just to tell you I've found the perfect house for you.
It's not on the market yet, so you must take it now.
Well, Archer. Rusticating?
That night he did not take the customary comfort...
...in his monthly shipment of London books.
There were moments when he felt as if he were...
...being buried alive under his future.
Newland, come late tomorrow. I must explain to you. Ellen.
- Has anything happened? - Yes.
I found I had to see you.
What is it?
Nothing.
Tell me what you do all day.
...from Philadelphia and Baltimore picnicking at the inn.
And the Merrys are setting up a lawn tennis court...
...but nobody here has really heard of the game yet, so....
I have my racket and so does Kate Merry....
I came here because I thought I could persuade you to break away from that.
To advance our engagement.
Don't you understand how much I want to marry you?
Why should we dream away another year?
I'm not sure I do understand.
Are you not certain of feeling the same way about me?
What on earth do you mean?
Is there someone else?
Someone else?
Between you and me?
Let's talk frankly, Newland.
I've felt a difference in you, especially since our engagement.
- What? - If it's untrue, it won't hurt to talk.
And if it is true, we should talk. You might've made a mistake.
If I'd made a mistake, would I be asking to hurry our marriage?
I don't know. You might.
It'd be one way to settle the question.
In Newport, two years ago...
...before we were promised...
...everyone said there was someone else for you.
I saw you with her, sitting together on a veranda at a dance.
When she came into the house, her face looked so sad...
...I felt sorry for her. Even after, when we were engaged...
...I could still see how she looked--
Is that all you've been concerned about?
It's long past.
Then is there something else?
No.
Of course not.
Whatever it may have been...
...I can't have my happiness made out of a wrong to someone else.
If promises were made, or if you feel pledged to this person...
...even if it means her divorce, don't give her up because of me.
There are no pledges.
There are no promises that matter.
That's all I've been trying to say. There is no one between us, May.
Which is precisely my argument for getting married...
...quickly.
He could feel her dropping back to inexpressive girlishness.
Her conscience had been eased of its burden.
"It was wonderful, " he thought...
... "how such depths of feeling could coexist...
...with such an absence of imagination. "
- And did you succeed? - No.
I'd still like to be married in April, with your help.
- Now you're seeing the Mingott way. - Is this really so difficult?
The family is difficult. Not one of them wants to be different.
And when they are, they end up like Ellen's parents.
Nomads. Continental wanderers.
Dragging Ellen about.
Lavishing on her an expensive but incoherent education.
Out of them all, there's not one that takes after me but my little Ellen.
You've got a quick eye. Why in the world didn't you marry her?
For one thing, she wasn't there to be married.
No, to be sure.
And she's still not.
The count, you know...
...wrote to Mr. Letterblair.
He wants her back.
On her own terms.
The count doesn't defend himself, I will say that.
And Ellen will be losing a great deal if she stayed here.
There's her old life: gardens at Nice...
...jewels, of course, music and conversation.
She says she goes unnoticed in Europe.
But I know her portrait's been painted nine times.
All this, and the remorse of a guilty husband.
I'd rather see her dead.
Would you really?
We should remember marriage is marriage, and Ellen is still a wife.
Ellen! See who's here!
Yes, I know. I went to see your mother to ask where you'd gone.
Since you never answered my note, I was afraid you might be ill.
He was in a rush to get married, that's why.
Off the train and straight here. He wants me to use my influence...
...to marry his sweetheart sooner.
Well....
Surely between us we can persuade the Wellands to do as he wishes.
Newland, you see? Right to the problem, like me.
I told him he should've married you.
And what did he say?
Oh, my darling, I leave you to find that out.
I wish I didn't have to leave. I'll see you soon, I hope.
Fine.
I'll see you out.
When can I see you?
The Struthers are sending the carriage at 7.
Who's so ridiculous to send a bouquet?
I'm not going to a ball, and I'm not engaged.
Nastasia. Some people are always ridiculous.
Take these to that nice family down the street.
Well...
...in almost everything she says there's something true...
...and something untrue.
Why?
What has Granny been telling you?
She believes you might go back to your husband.
I think she believes you might at least consider it.
A lot of things have been believed of me.
But if she thinks I'd consider it, it also means she'd consider it for me.
As Granny is weighing your idea of advancing the marriage.
May and I had a frank talk in Florida.
It's probably our first.
She wants a long engagement to give me time.
Time for what?
She thinks I want to marry her at once...
...to get away from someone...
...that I care for...
...more.
Time to give her up for another woman?
If I want to.
It's very noble.
Yes.
It's ridiculous.
Why?
Because there is no other woman?
No.
Because I don't mean to marry anyone else.
This other woman. Does she love you too?
There is no other woman. The person May meant was never--
That must be your carriage.
Yes...
...I suppose I should be leaving soon.
To Mrs. Struthers?
Yes.
I must go where I'm invited or I should be too lonely.
Why not come with me?
May guessed the truth.
There is another woman.
Only not the one she thinks.
Don't make love to me. Too many have done that.
I never have. I'd have married you had it been possible.
- It's you who made it impossible. - I've made it?!
You made me give up divorcing.
You talked to me, in this house, about sacrifice...
...and sparing scandal!
For you and May, I did what you asked!
- The things in your husband's letter-- - I had nothing to fear from that.
I was just afraid of scandal for the family and you and May.
Nothing's--
Nothing's done that can't be undone.
I'm still free.
You can be too.
Please.
Can I marry May now? Do you see me marrying May now?
I don't see you asking May that, do you?
I have to. It's too late to do anything else.
I don't understand you.
Because you don't realize how you've changed things for me.
- You don't know all that you've done. - All I've done?
All the good things you've done for me that I never knew.
Going to the van der Luydens because people refused to meet me.
Announcing your engagement at the ball...
...so there would be two families behind me instead of one.
I never understood how dreadful people thought I was.
Granny blurted it out one day. I was stupid. I never thought--
New York meant freedom to me. Everyone seemed so kind...
...and glad to see me.
They never knew what it meant to be tempted, but you did. You understood.
I'd never known that before...
Newland, you couldn't be happy if it meant being cruel.
If we act any other way, you'll act against what I love in you most.
And I can't go back to that way of thinking.
Don't you see? I can't love you unless I give you up.
"Ellen, Granny's telegram succeeded. Mama agreed to marriage after Easter.
Only a month. I will telegraph Newland.
I'm too happy for words and love you dearly. Your grateful cousin, May."
There had been wild rumors...
...until the wedding that Mrs. Mingott would actually attend the ceremony.
She had sent a carpenter to measure the front pew...
...in case it might be altered to accommodate her.
But this idea, like the great lady herself...
...was unwieldy, and she settled for giving the wedding breakfast.
The Countess Olenska sent her regrets. She was traveling with an aunt.
But gave the bride and groom an exquisite piece of old lace.
Two elderly aunts in Rhinebeck offered a honeymoon cottage.
Since it was thought "very English" to have a country house on loan...
...their offer was accepted.
When the house proved suddenly uninhabitable, however...
...Henry van der Luyden offered...
...an old cottage on his property nearby.
May accepted the offer as a surprise for her husband.
She'd never seen the house, but her cousin Ellen had mentioned it.
She had said it was the only house in America...
...where she could imagine being perfectly happy.
They traveled to the expected places, which May had never seen.
In London, Archer ordered his clothes. They went to the National Gallery...
...and to the theater.
I hope I don't look ridiculous. I've never dined out in London.
English women dress like everyone else in the evening.
How can you say that when they're at the theater in old ball dresses?
Maybe they save their new dresses for home.
- Then I shouldn't have worn this. - You look very fine.
Really, quite beautiful.