Chapter 29

May's dark blue brougham met Archer at the ferry. Its bright wedding paint still looked new. The fine carriage carried him to the Pennsylvania station in Jersey City.

The afternoon was dark and snowy. Gas lamps burned inside the great station. Every sound came back from its high walls. Archer walked along the train platform and waited.

The fast train was coming from Washington. Archer remembered a strange future plan. Some people believed in a train tunnel under the Hudson. A tunnel was a long road built under the ground.

Pennsylvania trains would then run straight into New York.

Those people dreamed of many new wonders. Ships would cross the Atlantic in five days. A flying machine would carry people through the air. Electricity would fill homes with light.

Electricity was a new power that moved through wires.

People would even speak by telephone without wires. A telephone carried a person's voice along a wire. Such things belonged in an Arabian Nights story. That old book was full of magic wonders.

"I do not care which dream comes true," Archer thought. "I only need that tunnel to remain a dream today."

He felt a schoolboy's foolish joy. In his mind, he watched Ellen leave the train. He found her far away among empty faces. She held his arm while he led her outside.

They entered the carriage. It moved slowly toward the ferry landing. Horses slipped on the snowy street. Heavy carts filled the road, and their drivers shouted.

Then the ferry gave them sudden peace. The carriage stood still on the boat. Snow fell around them. Archer and Ellen sat close beside each other.

The earth would seem to move under them. It would carry them toward the sun's far side. Archer had a great number of things to say. Each perfect speech waited on his lips.

The train made loud metal cries. It came slowly into the station. It looked like a great animal. The animal carried captured people back to its dark home.

Archer pushed through the crowd. He looked blindly into each high train window. Then Ellen's pale and surprised face appeared very near.

Once again, Archer felt ashamed. He forgot her real face while they were apart. Each new sight of her surprised him.

They reached each other, and their hands met. Archer drew her arm through his.

"This way," he said. "I brought the carriage."

After that, his dream became real. He helped Ellen and her bags into the brougham. He explained that her grandmother was better. He also told her about Beaufort.

Later, he hardly remembered his own words. But Ellen's soft answer stayed with him.

"Poor Regina!"

The carriage worked free of the station crowd. Then it went down the wet hill. Coal carts moved from side to side. Frightened horses and untidy delivery carts blocked the way.

An empty hearse passed them. A hearse was a dark carriage that carried a dead person. Ellen shut her eyes and caught Archer's hand.

"If it means something about poor Granny!"

"No, no," he said. "She is much better. She is truly safe. Look, the hearse is past us now!"

He spoke as if passing it changed its meaning. Ellen kept her hand in his. The carriage crossed a wooden bridge onto the ferry. It jumped and leaned with the movement.

Archer bent over her hand. He opened the buttons of her tight brown glove. Then he kissed her palm like a holy relic. A relic was an object made holy by someone from the past.

Ellen gently pulled away with a small smile.

"You did not expect me today?" he asked.

"Oh, no."

"I planned to visit you in Washington. Everything was ready. Our trains almost passed each other."

"Oh," she said.

She seemed frightened by how close they came to missing each other.

"Do you know that I almost forgot you?" Archer asked.

"Almost forgot me?"

"I mean your face. How can I explain it? This happens every time. Each meeting makes you new to me again."

"Oh, yes. I know! I know!"

"Does the same thing happen to you? Do I become new again?"

Ellen nodded and looked out the window.

"Ellen, Ellen, Ellen!"

She did not answer. Archer watched her face from the side. Snow marked the dark glass behind it. Her face slowly became unclear in the fading light.

What did she do during those four long months? They knew so little about each other. Yet they sat very close. The last precious minutes passed away.

Archer forgot all his planned words. He could only think about their strange position. They were far apart and close together. Their bodies almost touched, but neither could see the other's face.

Ellen suddenly turned from the window. "What a pretty carriage. Is it May's?"

"Yes."

"Then May sent you to meet me? How kind of her!"

Archer waited before answering. Then his words came out with force.

"Your husband's secretary visited me after our Boston meeting."

Archer did not mention M. Rivière in his short letter. He planned to keep the visit secret. Then Ellen reminded him of May's carriage. He wanted to strike back.

Would Ellen enjoy hearing Rivière's name? Archer did not enjoy hearing May's. Again, he tried to break Ellen's calm. She showed no surprise.

Archer quickly formed a jealous thought. Rivière must write to her.

"M. Rivière visited you?" Ellen asked.

"Yes. Did you not know?"

"No," she answered simply.

"And you are not surprised?"

Ellen waited a moment. "Why should I be surprised? In Boston, he said that he knew you. I think he met you in England."

"Ellen, I must ask you one thing."

"Yes."

"I wanted to ask after his visit," Archer said. "I could not put it in a letter. Did Rivière help you escape your husband?"

Archer's heart beat so hard that he could hardly breathe. Would she still answer calmly?

"Yes. I owe him a great debt," Ellen said.

Her quiet voice did not shake. Her natural answer calmed Archer's inner storm. Once more, her simple truth made his own thoughts seem narrow.

Archer believed that he broke society's rules. Yet his jealousy came from those same rules.

"You are the most honest woman I ever met!" he cried.

"Oh, no. Perhaps I only make less trouble about things."

A smile warmed her voice.

"Use any words you like," Archer said. "You see things as they truly are."

"I needed to see them. I needed to look at the Gorgon."

The Gorgon was a female monster in an old Greek story. Anyone who looked at her became stone.

"Well, she did not make you blind," Archer said. "You saw an old false monster like all the others."

"She does not make people blind. But she dries all their tears."

Archer's next request died on his lips. Ellen spoke from a life he could not reach. Her pain went far beyond his own experience.

The ferry stopped moving forward. Its front struck the heavy wood at the landing. The blow made the brougham shake. Archer and Ellen fell against each other.

Archer felt her shoulder against him. His whole body shook. He put his arm around her.

"If you can see clearly, you must understand. This cannot continue."

"What cannot continue?"

"We are together, but we are never truly together."

"No," Ellen said in a changed voice. "You should not be here today."

Suddenly she turned and put both arms around him. Her lips pressed against his.

At that same moment, the carriage moved. A gas lamp stood at the ferry gate. Its bright light flashed through the window.

Ellen moved away. They sat without speech or movement. Around them, many carriages fought to leave the ferry. The brougham slowly pushed through.

When they reached the street, Archer spoke quickly.

"Do not fear me," he said. "You do not need to hide in your corner. I do not want one stolen kiss."

"Look at me. I am not even touching your coat. I understand why you fear a common secret love."

"We stay apart, and I burn for you," he continued. "Before a meeting, one great fire fills my mind. Then you come, and you are more than my memory."

"I want more than a few hours with you. I cannot bear long dry months between them. So I can sit still now."

"I hold a different future in my mind. I calmly trust that it will become real."

Ellen did not answer at first. Then her voice became almost too soft to hear.

"What do you mean by trusting it?"

"You know our future will become real, do you not?"

"You mean a future with you and me together?"

Ellen gave a sudden hard laugh. "You chose a fine place for this request!"

"Do you mean May's brougham?" Archer asked. "We can get out and walk. A little snow will not trouble you."

Ellen laughed again, but more gently. "No, I will not walk. I must reach Granny as soon as I can."

"You will sit beside me," she continued. "We will look at real life. We will not look at dreams."

"I do not know what you call real life. This is my only real life."

Ellen answered with a long silence. The carriage rolled down a dark side street. Then it turned into Fifth Avenue's sharp, bright lights.

"Do you want me to live as your mistress?" she asked. "I cannot be your wife."

A mistress was a woman in a secret love with a married man. Her plain question shocked Archer. Women in his group never used that word. They avoided it even when discussing such lives.

Ellen spoke it like an ordinary word. Perhaps people often used it near her in Europe. She escaped from a terrible married life there. The thought stopped Archer and broke his speech.

"I want to escape with you," he said at last. "We would find a world without such words. No one would place us in such groups."

"We would only be two people in love," he continued. "Each would be the other's whole life. Nothing else on earth would matter."

Ellen took a deep breath, and it ended in laughter.

"Oh, my dear, where is that country? Have you ever visited it?"

Archer said nothing.

"I know many people who tried to find it," Ellen continued. "They all left the train at the wrong small station."

"Some stopped at Boulogne, Pisa, or Monte Carlo. Each place was like the world they left. It was only smaller and dirtier. Everyone's life became mixed with everyone else's."

Archer never heard her use this hard voice. He remembered her words about the Gorgon.

"Yes, the Gorgon dried your tears," he said.

"She also opened my eyes," Ellen answered. "People say she makes you blind. That is false. She does the opposite."

"She holds your eyes open forever. You can never return to blessed darkness. The Chinese may have used such pain against people. If not, someone should have invented it."

"Believe me, your dream is a poor little country."

The carriage crossed Forty-second Street. May's strong horse carried them north at great speed. It ran like a Kentucky trotter. A trotter was a horse trained to race with quick steps.

Archer felt the wasted minutes like hands around his throat. His words did nothing.

"Then what is your plan for us?" he asked.

"For us? There is no us in that way," Ellen said. "We stay close only by staying far apart. Then we can remain ourselves."

"Otherwise, you are Newland Archer, married to my cousin. I am Ellen Olenska, your wife's cousin. We would seek joy behind the backs of people who trust us."

"Ah, I am past caring about that," he said in pain.

"No, you are not. You have never gone past it," Ellen said. Her voice sounded strange. "I have gone there. I know what waits beyond it."

Archer sat in silence. His pain had no words. In the dark carriage, he felt for the small bell. It gave orders to the driver.

May rang it twice when she wanted to stop. Archer pressed it. The carriage stopped beside the street edge.

"Why did we stop?" Ellen asked. "This is not Granny's house."

"No. I will leave here."

Archer opened the door and jumped onto the street. A street lamp showed Ellen's shocked face. She moved as if she wanted to stop him.

He closed the door. Then he leaned near the window for one moment.

"You were right," he said softly. "I should not have come today."

He kept his voice low, so the driver could not hear. Ellen leaned forward and seemed ready to speak. Archer already called to the driver.

The brougham rolled away. Archer stood alone on the corner. The snow stopped, and a sharp wind rose. It struck his face while he watched the carriage.

Then something stiff and cold touched his eyes. Archer understood that he was crying. The winter wind froze his tears.

He pushed his hands into his pockets. Then he walked quickly down Fifth Avenue toward home.