The age of innocence - Ataun

1 The Age ofInnocenceEdith WhartonWork reproduced with no editorial responsibilityNotice by Luarna EdicionesThis book is in the public domain becausethe copyrights have expired under Spanish presents it here as a gift to its cus-tomers, while clarifying the following:1)Because this edition has not been super-vised by our editorial deparment, wedisclaim responsibility for the fidelity ofits )Luarna has only adapted the work tomake it easily viewable on common six-inch )To all effects, this book must not be con-sidered to have been published a January evening of the early seventies,Christine Nilsson was singing in Faust at theAcademy of Music in New there was already talk of the erection,in remote metropolitan distances "above theForties," of a new Opera House which shouldcompete in costliness and splendour with thoseof the great European capitals, the world offashion was still content to reassemble everywinter in the shabby red and gold boxes of thesociable old Academy.

2 Conservatives cherishedit for being small and inconvenient, and thuskeeping out the "new people" whom New Yorkwas beginning to dread and yet be drawn to;and the sentimental clung to it for its historicassociations, and the musical for its excellentacoustics, always so problematic a quality inhalls built for the hearing of was Madame Nilsson's first appearance thatwinter, and what the daily press had alreadylearned to describe as "an exceptionally brilliantaudience" had gathered to hear her, trans-ported through the slippery, snowy streets inprivate broughams, in the spacious family lan-dau, or in the humbler but more convenient"Brown coupe.

3 " To come to the Opera in aBrown coupe was almost as honourable a wayof arriving as in one's own carriage; and depar-ture by the same means had the immense ad-vantage of enabling one (with a playful allusionto democratic principles) to scramble into thefirst Brown conveyance in the line, instead ofwaiting till the cold-and-gin congested nose ofone's own coachman gleamed under the porticoof the Academy. It was one of the great livery-stableman's most masterly intuitions to havediscovered that Americans want to get awayfrom amusement even more quickly than theywant to get to Newland Archer opened the door at theback of the club box the curtain had just goneup on the garden scene.

4 There was no reasonwhy the young man should not have come ear-lier, for he had dined at seven, alone with hismother and sister, and had lingered afterwardover a cigar in the Gothic library with glazedblack-walnut bookcases and finial-toppedchairs which was the only room in the housewhere Mrs. Archer allowed smoking. But, inthe first place, New York was a metropolis, andperfectly aware that in metropolises it was "notthe thing" to arrive early at the opera; and whatwas or was not "the thing" played a part as im-portant in Newland Archer's New York as theinscrutable totem terrors that had ruled thedestinies of his forefathers thousands of second reason for his delay was a personalone.

5 He had dawdled over his cigar because hewas at heart a dilettante, and thinking over apleasure to come often gave him a subtler satis-faction than its realisation. This was especiallythe case when the pleasure was a delicate one,as his pleasures mostly were; and on this occa-sion the moment he looked forward to was sorare and exquisite in quality that well, if hehad timed his arrival in accord with the primadonna's stage-manager he could not have en-tered the Academy at a more significant mo-ment than just as she was singing: "He lovesme he loves me not HE LOVES ME! " andsprinkling the falling daisy petals with notes asclear as sang, of course, "M'ama!

6 " and not "he lovesme," since an unalterable and unquestionedlaw of the musical world required that theGerman text of French operas sung by Swedishartists should be translated into Italian for theclearer understanding of English-speaking au-diences. This seemed as natural to NewlandArcher as all the other conventions on whichhis life was moulded: such as the duty of usingtwo silver-backed brushes with his monogramin blue enamel to part his hair, and of neverappearing in society without a flower (prefera-bly a gardenia) in his buttonhole."M'ama .. non m'ama .." the prima donna sang,and "M'ama!", with a final burst of love trium-phant, as she pressed the dishevelled daisy toher lips and lifted her large eyes to the sophisti-cated countenance of the little brown Faust-Capoul, who was vainly trying, in a tight pur-ple velvet doublet and plumed cap, to look aspure and true as his artless Archer, leaning against the wall at theback of the club box, turned his eyes from thestage and scanned the opposite side of thehouse.

7 Directly facing him was the box of oldMrs. Manson Mingott, whose monstrous obe-sity had long since made it impossible for herto attend the Opera, but who was always repre-sented on fashionable nights by some of theyounger members of the family. On this occa-sion, the front of the box was filled by herdaughter-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, and herdaughter, Mrs. Welland; and slightly with-drawn behind these brocaded matrons sat ayoung girl in white with eyes ecstatically fixedon the stagelovers. As Madame Nilsson's"M'ama!" thrilled out above the silent house(the boxes always stopped talking during theDaisy Song) a warm pink mounted to the girl'scheek, mantled her brow to the roots of her fairbraids, and suffused the young slope of herbreast to the line where it met a modest tulletucker fastened with a single gardenia.

8 Shedropped her eyes to the immense bouquet oflilies-of-the-valley on her knee, and NewlandArcher saw her white-gloved finger-tips touchthe flowers softly. He drew a breath of satisfiedvanity and his eyes returned to the expense had been spared on the setting,which was acknowledged to be very beautifuleven by people who shared his acquaintancewith the Opera houses of Paris and Vienna. Theforeground, to the footlights, was covered withemerald green cloth. In the middle distancesymmetrical mounds of woolly green mossbounded by croquet hoops formed the base ofshrubs shaped like orange-trees but studdedwith large pink and red roses. Gigantic pansies,considerably larger than the roses, and closelyresembling the floral pen-wipers made by fe-male 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 ofMr.

9 Luther Burbank's far-off the centre of this enchanted garden MadameNilsson, in white cashmere slashed with paleblue satin, a reticule dangling from a blue gir-dle, and large yellow braids carefully disposedon each side of her muslin chemisette, listenedwith downcast eyes to M. Capoul's impas-sioned wooing, and affected a guileless incom-prehension of his designs whenever, by wordor glance, he persuasively indicated the groundfloor window of the neat brick villa projectingobliquely from the right wing."The darling!" thought Newland Archer, hisglance flitting back to the young girl with thelilies-of-the-valley. "She doesn't even guesswhat it's all about.

10 " And he contemplated herabsorbed young face with a thrill of possessor-ship in which pride in his own masculine initia-tion was mingled with a tender reverence forher abysmal purity. "We'll read Faust by the Italian lakes .." he thought, somewhathazily confusing the scene of his projectedhoney-moon with the masterpieces of literaturewhich it would be his manly privilege to revealto his bride. It was only that afternoon that MayWelland had let him guess that she "cared"(New York's consecrated phrase of maidenavowal), and already his imagination, leapingahead of the engagement ring, the betrothalkiss and the march from Lohengrin, picturedher at his side in some scene of old did not in the least wish the future Archer to be a simpleton.