Chapter 25

Archer was on the boat again. Other people stood and sat around him. Yet he felt a deep peace. This feeling both surprised and supported him.

By common ideas, the day was a foolish failure. He did not even kiss Madame Olenska's hand. She gave him no promise of another meeting. He loved her, but his love had no answer. He might not see her for a long time.

Still, he felt almost ashamed of his calm. Their meeting gave him comfort. Ellen kept a perfect balance between two duties. They must be true to others. They must also be honest with themselves.

She did not plan this balance like a clever game. Her tears and broken words proved that. It came from her open and honest nature. This moved him deeply. It also made him calm.

Now the danger was past. He felt both love and wonder before her goodness. He was glad that pride did not rule him. He did not try to act like a great lover. He did not try to make her give in.

At Fall River station, they held hands and said goodbye. Then Archer turned away alone. Yet he felt that their meeting saved something important. What he gained seemed greater than what he lost.

He walked back to the club. The library there was empty. He sat alone and examined each moment with Ellen. He turned every second over in his mind.

One thing became clear. Ellen might choose to return to Europe. She might even return to her husband. But her old life did not call her back. The Count's new terms would not call her either.

She would go for another reason. She would leave if she became a danger to Archer. She feared that he might break their shared rule. They wanted to protect others from their love.

Ellen would stay near him under one condition. He must never ask her to come nearer. The choice now rested with him. He must keep her close enough for friendship. Yet he must also keep her safe and apart.

These thoughts stayed with him on the train. They formed a golden mist around him. Through it, every face seemed far away. He felt no other traveler could understand him.

The next morning, the train reached New York. September heat filled the air. The long train was close and hard to breathe in. Tired faces passed Archer as he got off.

He still saw them through his golden mist. Then one face seemed to leave the crowd. It came closer and pulled him back to the world. Archer knew it at once.

He saw this young man outside the Parker House yesterday. The face did not look like an American hotel face. Now Archer noticed the same thing again. A weak memory began to move inside him.

The young man looked around in confusion. He seemed like a foreign traveler lost in America. American travel could be hard and cold. At last, he walked toward Archer.

He lifted his hat and spoke in English. "Surely, Monsieur, we met in London?"

"Ah, of course, in London!" Archer said. He took the man's hand with interest. "So you did get here, after all?"

Now Archer remembered him fully. He was the French teacher of young Carfry. His small face was clever but tired. It also looked thin and worried.

"Oh, I got here, yes," M. Rivière said. His lips made a weak smile. "But I will not stay long. I return the day after tomorrow."

He held a light travel case in one neat hand. His hand still wore a glove. He looked at Archer with worry and doubt. There was also a quiet request in his eyes.

"I wonder, Monsieur," he began. "We met by such good luck. Might I ask you to..."

"I was about to ask you something," Archer said. "Will you come to lunch? I mean downtown. Come to my office, and I will take you somewhere good."

M. Rivière looked surprised and truly touched.

"You are too kind. But I only wanted directions to a carriage. There are no men to carry bags. No one here seems to listen."

"I know," Archer said. "Our stations must surprise you. Ask for help, and they offer something to chew. Come with me, and I will get you out. You really must have lunch with me."

The young man waited for one small moment. Then he thanked Archer many times. He said that he already had a lunch meeting. Still, his voice did not sound completely sure.

They reached the street, and he seemed calmer there. Then he asked to visit Archer that afternoon. Work was slow in the hot season. So Archer gave him a time.

Archer wrote his office address. The Frenchman put it in his pocket. He thanked Archer again and waved his hat widely. Then a street car pulled by horses carried him away.

Archer walked to his office. At the exact hour, M. Rivière appeared. His face was smooth, and his clothes were neat. But he still looked serious and worn.

Archer was alone. He offered his visitor a chair. Before sitting, the young man spoke quickly.

"I believe I saw you yesterday in Boston, sir."

The fact seemed to mean little. Archer was ready to agree. Then he noticed the man's fixed look. It held some secret, but it also offered a sudden light.

"This is very strange," M. Rivière continued. "Our meeting is very strange because of my present position."

"What position?" Archer asked.

For a rather unkind moment, he wondered about money. Perhaps the Frenchman needed a loan. But M. Rivière kept studying his face.

"I did not come here to find work," he said. "I spoke of that when we last met. This time I came for a special task."

"Ah," Archer said.

Suddenly the two meetings joined in his mind. He understood that the task concerned Ellen. He stopped and faced this new fact. M. Rivière also waited in silence.

"A special task," Archer said at last.

The Frenchman opened his hands and lifted them a little. Both men looked across the office desk. Then Archer remembered his manners.

"Please sit down."

M. Rivière bent his head. He chose a chair some distance away. Then he waited again.

"You wanted my advice about this task?" Archer asked.

M. Rivière lowered his head. "I did not come for myself. I have settled my own part. With your permission, I wish to discuss Countess Olenska."

Archer expected those words. Still, they struck him like a bent branch. It seemed to fly back and hit his face. Blood rushed to his head.

"For whom do you speak?" he asked.

M. Rivière faced the question bravely. "I might say that I speak for her. But that may sound too free. Let me say that I speak for simple justice."

Archer looked at him with a cold smile. "In other words, you carry a message from Count Olenski."

The Frenchman's dark yellow face became red. "I do not carry one to you, Monsieur. I came to you for very different reasons."

"What right do you have to choose another reason?" Archer asked. "You carry the Count's message. That is your position."

The young man thought before answering. "My task is now over. It failed with Countess Olenska."

"I cannot help that," Archer said coldly.

"No, but you can help with something else." M. Rivière stopped. He turned his hat inside his careful hands. Then he looked into it before facing Archer.

"I believe you can make it fail with her family too."

Archer pushed back his chair and stood. "Then, by God, I will!"

He put his hands into his pockets. He stared down in anger. The Frenchman also stood, but he was a little shorter. His face returned to its usual pale color.

"Why did you think I would oppose her family?" Archer asked. "You must know that I am related to Madame Olenska. Why come to me?"

M. Rivière's face changed. Fear gave way to real pain. This usually clever young man now looked helpless.

"Oh, Monsieur," he said.

Archer continued before he could answer. "Many people are closer to the Countess. Why did you come to me? Why should I accept the Count's reasons more easily?"

M. Rivière accepted the attack with a humble air. "The reasons I bring you are my own. They are not the reasons I brought from Europe."

"Then I have even less reason to hear them."

M. Rivière looked into his hat again. Perhaps Archer wanted him to put it on and leave. Then the young man made a firm choice.

"Monsieur, will you answer one question? Do you question my right to be here? Or do you believe this whole matter is closed?"

His calm strength made Archer feel foolish. His own anger now seemed rough and badly used. M. Rivière earned a hearing. Archer's face grew red, and he sat again.

He pointed to the other chair. "I am sorry. But why is the matter not closed?"

M. Rivière looked at him in pain. "Do you agree with the family, then? I brought new offers from the Count. Do you think Madame Olenska must now return to her husband?"

"Good God!" Archer cried.

His visitor made a low sound. It showed that Archer finally understood.

"Before I saw her, I visited Mr. Lovell Mingott," M. Rivière said. "Count Olenski asked me to see him. We talked several times before I went to Boston."

"I understand that he speaks for his mother," he continued. "Mrs. Manson Mingott has great power in the family."

Archer sat without speaking. He felt like a man holding the edge of a falling cliff. The family did not ask for his advice. They did not even tell him about these talks.

This shocked him almost as much as Rivière's news. In one bright moment, Archer saw the reason. The tribe no longer trusted him. Its deep sense warned them that he stood against them.

Then he remembered May's words. She spoke during their drive from Mrs. Manson Mingott's house. It was the day of the Archery Meeting.

"Perhaps Ellen would be happier with her husband after all," May said then.

Archer remembered his angry answer. Since that day, May never spoke Ellen's name. Now he understood her earlier words. She used them to test him.

May wanted to learn which way his feelings moved. She must have told the family what she found. After that, they quietly left Archer out of their plans.

He almost admired their perfect family control. May accepted their choice and said nothing. She would refuse if her sense of right opposed them. But she probably agreed with the family.

They believed Ellen should live as an unhappy wife. To them, that was better than living apart from her husband. There was no use talking to Newland. Sometimes he refused to accept their most basic rules.

Archer looked up. M. Rivière watched him with worried eyes.

"Do you truly not know this, Monsieur?" he asked. "The family now doubts its right to oppose the Count. They may tell the Countess to accept his last offers."

"The offers you brought?"

"The offers I brought."

Archer almost told him to mind his own business. Yet Rivière's eyes stopped him. The man was humble, but he was also brave. Archer answered his question with another.

"Why are you telling me this?"

The answer came at once. "I beg you with all my strength. Do not let her go back. Oh, do not let her!"

Archer stared at him with growing wonder. The man's pain was true. His purpose was just as real. Rivière had decided to risk everything.

He needed Archer to know his new belief. Nothing else mattered now.

"Did you say this to Countess Olenska?" Archer asked at last.

M. Rivière grew red again. But his eyes remained steady.

"No, Monsieur. I accepted my task honestly. I believed she should return when I came."

"I had reasons for that belief," he continued. "You do not need to hear them. She could regain her place and her money. Her husband's position could give her public respect again."

"That makes sense," Archer said. "You could not take the task without believing it."

"I would never have taken it."

"Well, then?" Archer asked.

They studied each other for a long moment.

"After I saw her, everything changed," M. Rivière said. "I listened to her. Then I knew that she was safer here."

"You knew that?"

"I did the Count's work honestly," the young man said. "I gave her all his reasons. I explained every offer. I added none of my own thoughts."

"The Countess listened with great patience," he continued. "She was kind enough to see me twice. She thought carefully about every point. During those two talks, my own mind changed."

"What caused that change?" Archer asked.

"I saw the change in her. That was enough."

"The change in her? Did you know her before?"

Color rose in M. Rivière's face. "I often saw her in her husband's house. I have known Count Olenski for many years. He would not send a stranger on this task."

Archer looked away at the empty office walls. His eyes stopped on a calendar. Above it hung the rough face of the President. This strange talk seemed impossible under that American face.

All the wide United States lay under the President's rule. Yet here two men discussed a hidden European marriage. Archer's mind could hardly join those two worlds.

"What kind of change did you see?" he asked.

"Ah, Monsieur, I wish I could explain it." M. Rivière paused. "I learned something I never understood before. She is an American."

"She is an American of her own kind," he continued. "It is also your kind. Some European groups accept certain acts. They treat those acts as part of marriage."

"People there give and take for their own comfort," he said. "But an American like her cannot accept those things. To her, they cannot even be considered."

"Her family does not understand what those things are," he continued. "If they knew, they would fully oppose her return. Instead, they see the Count's wish as proof of love."

"They think he only wants his home and wife again. But the truth is not so simple. It is very far from simple."

Archer looked back at the President's face. Then he looked down at his desk. Papers lay in untidy groups. For several seconds, he could not speak.

He heard M. Rivière push back his chair. The young man stood. When Archer looked up, he saw equal feeling in his visitor.

"Thank you," Archer said simply.

"You have no reason to thank me, Monsieur. I should thank you instead." Rivière stopped because speech was hard. Then his voice became firm again.

"I want to add one thing," he said. "You asked if Count Olenski employs me. At this moment, he does. I returned to his service a few months ago."

"I had private reasons," he continued. "Such trouble can happen to anyone. Older and sick people depend on me. I needed to care for them."

"But today I came here and told you these things. From this moment, I consider my service ended. I will tell the Count when I return. I will also tell him my reasons."

"That is all, Monsieur."

M. Rivière bowed and stepped back.

"Thank you," Archer said again.

Then the two men shook hands.