Easy English ↔ Source English
Chapter 13
Source paragraphs anchor each row. Semantically matched easy-English paragraphs stay grouped beside the source they rewrite.
Easy-English paragraphs are matched to the source by meaning; numbering follows the source text.
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01
Easy English
It was a crowded night at Wallack's Theater.
Source English
It was a crowded night at Wallack's theatre.
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02
Easy English
The play was "The Shaughraun." Dion Boucicault acted the title part, and Harry Montague and Ada Dyas played the two lovers. The fine English company was famous then, and the play always filled the house.
High in the galleries, the cheap seats near the roof, people cheered with open hearts. In the stalls, the costly seats below, and in the boxes, people smiled a little. The play's feelings were old and over-used, they thought, and its tricks were cheap. But they enjoyed it just as much as the galleries did.
Source English
The play was "The Shaughraun," with Dion Boucicault in the title role and Harry Montague and Ada Dyas as the lovers. The popularity of the admirable English company was at its height, and the Shaughraun always packed the house. In the galleries the enthusiasm was unreserved; in the stalls and boxes, people smiled a little at the hackneyed sentiments and clap-trap situations, and enjoyed the play as much as the galleries did.
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03
Easy English
One scene, above all, held the house from floor to roof. In it, Harry Montague said a sad, almost wordless good-bye to Miss Dyas and turned to go.
The actress stood near the fireplace, looking down into the fire. She wore a plain gray dress of soft wool, cut without fashionable show. It followed her tall body and flowed about her feet. Around her neck was a narrow ribbon of black velvet, a thin band of cloth. Its ends fell down her back.
Source English
There was one episode, in particular, that held the house from floor to ceiling. It was that in which Harry Montague, after a sad, almost monosyllabic scene of parting with Miss Dyas, bade her good-bye, and turned to go. The actress, who was standing near the mantelpiece and looking down into the fire, wore a gray cashmere dress without fashionable loopings or trimmings, moulded to her tall figure and flowing in long lines about her feet. Around her neck was a narrow black velvet ribbon with the ends falling down her back.
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04
Easy English
When her lover turned away, she rested her arms on the shelf above the fire. She bowed her face in her hands.
At the door, he stopped for a last look. Then he came quietly back, lifted one end of the ribbon, and kissed it. She never heard him and never moved. On that silent parting, the curtain came down.
Source English
When her wooer turned from her she rested her arms against the mantel-shelf and bowed her face in her hands. On the threshold he paused to look at her; then he stole back, lifted one of the ends of velvet ribbon, kissed it, and left the room without her hearing him or changing her attitude. And on this silent parting the curtain fell.
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05
Easy English
Newland Archer always went to see "The Shaughraun" for the sake of that one scene. He saw the famous Croisette and Bressant act in Paris, and Madge Robertson and Kendal in London.
The good-bye of Montague and Ada Dyas seemed as fine as anything they did. Its quiet, wordless sadness moved him more than the loudest famous acting.
Source English
It was always for the sake of that particular scene that Newland Archer went to see "The Shaughraun." He thought the adieux of Montague and Ada Dyas as fine as anything he had ever seen Croisette and Bressant do in Paris, or Madge Robertson and Kendal in London; in its reticence, its dumb sorrow, it moved him more than the most famous histrionic outpourings.
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06
Easy English
On this evening, the little scene touched him more sharply than ever. He could not say why. But it reminded him of his parting from Madame Olenska, after their private talk a week or ten days before.
Source English
On the evening in question the little scene acquired an added poignancy by reminding him--he could not have said why--of his leave-taking from Madame Olenska after their confidential talk a week or ten days earlier.
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07
Easy English
The two partings were not alike, and the people were not alike. Archer was no match for the young English actor's romantic good looks. Miss Dyas was a tall, red-haired woman, large and grand in build. Her pale face was pleasantly ugly, nothing like Ellen Olenska's bright, living face.
Archer and Madame Olenska were not two lovers parting in heart-broken silence. They were a lawyer and his client. Their talk left the lawyer with the worst possible view of the client's case. Where, then, was the likeness that made his heart beat with strange excitement?
The answer seemed to lie in Madame Olenska herself. She had a mysterious power of suggesting tragic possibilities, terrible and sad turns of life. They lay far outside the daily run of things.
She hardly ever said a word to produce this feeling. It was simply part of her. Perhaps it came from her mysterious foreign past, or from something unusual in herself, some hidden fire.
Chance, Archer thought, played only a small part in people's lives. Far more depended on something inside each person, a pull that drew events toward them.
From the first, he felt this pull in Madame Olenska. She was quiet, almost still, and seemed to let life act on her. Yet she seemed exactly the kind of person that things happened to. It did not matter how she feared them or stepped out of their way.
And here lay the exciting fact. She had lived so long among storms of feeling that she never noticed her own power to raise them. Nothing seemed to surprise her, and that calm told its own story.
She seemed like a woman pulled out of a wild sea. The things she accepted as normal measured the things she refused to bear.
Source English
It would have been as difficult to discover any resemblance between the two situations as between the appearance of the persons concerned. Newland Archer could not pretend to anything approaching the young English actor's romantic good looks, and Miss Dyas was a tall red-haired woman of monumental build whose pale and pleasantly ugly face was utterly unlike Ellen Olenska's vivid countenance. Nor were Archer and Madame Olenska two lovers parting in heart-broken silence; they were client and lawyer separating after a talk which had given the lawyer the worst possible impression of the client's case. Wherein, then, lay the resemblance that made the young man's heart beat with a kind of retrospective excitement? It seemed to be in Madame Olenska's mysterious faculty of suggesting tragic and moving possibilities outside the daily run of experience. She had hardly ever said a word to him to produce this impression, but it was a part of her, either a projection of her mysterious and outlandish background or of something inherently dramatic, passionate and unusual in herself. Archer had always been inclined to think that chance and circumstance played a small part in shaping people's lots compared with their innate tendency to have things happen to them. This tendency he had felt from the first in Madame Olenska. The quiet, almost passive young woman struck him as exactly the kind of person to whom things were bound to happen, no matter how much she shrank from them and went out of her way to avoid them. The exciting fact was her having lived in an atmosphere so thick with drama that her own tendency to provoke it had apparently passed unperceived. It was precisely the odd absence of surprise in her that gave him the sense of her having been plucked out of a very maelstrom: the things she took for granted gave the measure of those she had rebelled against.
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08
Easy English
Archer left her that evening sure of one thing. Count Olenski's ugly charge was probably not empty air. The mysterious man in his wife's past, "the secretary," helped her escape. And most likely he did not go without his reward.
The life she ran from was more than anyone could bear. It was past speaking of, past believing. She was young, she was frightened, and she saw no way out. What could be more natural than warm thanks to the man who saved her?
The pity lay in what those thanks cost her. In the eyes of the law and the world, they set her on a level with her hateful husband.
Archer made her understand this, for it was his duty. He made her understand one thing more. She counted on kind, simple-hearted New York and its open arms. Yet New York, exactly, was the last place to forgive her.
Source English
Archer had left her with the conviction that Count Olenski's accusation was not unfounded. The mysterious person who figured in his wife's past as "the secretary" had probably not been unrewarded for his share in her escape. The conditions from which she had fled were intolerable, past speaking of, past believing: she was young, she was frightened, she was desperate--what more natural than that she should be grateful to her rescuer? The pity was that her gratitude put her, in the law's eyes and the world's, on a par with her abominable husband. Archer had made her understand this, as he was bound to do; he had also made her understand that simple-hearted kindly New York, on whose larger charity she had apparently counted, was precisely the place where she could least hope for indulgence.
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09
Easy English
To say this plainly, and then to watch her accept it, was deeply painful to him. He felt drawn to her by dark feelings: pity, and jealousy, the hurt of wanting someone for oneself.
She admitted her fault without words, and this put her in his hands. It brought her low, and at the same time made her dear.
He was glad the secret came to him and no one else. Better him than Mr. Letterblair's cold, searching eyes, or the uneasy faces of her family.
He took the next duty on himself. He told Mr. Letterblair and the family that she gave up the idea of a divorce. Her reason, he said, was that she saw the step was useless. With deep relief, they all turned their eyes away from the "unpleasantness" she spared them.
Source English
To have to make this fact plain to her--and to witness her resigned acceptance of it--had been intolerably painful to him. He felt himself drawn to her by obscure feelings of jealousy and pity, as if her dumbly-confessed error had put her at his mercy, humbling yet endearing her. He was glad it was to him she had revealed her secret, rather than to the cold scrutiny of Mr. Letterblair, or the embarrassed gaze of her family. He immediately took it upon himself to assure them both that she had given up her idea of seeking a divorce, basing her decision on the fact that she had understood the uselessness of the proceeding; and with infinite relief they had all turned their eyes from the "unpleasantness" she had spared them.
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10
Easy English
"I was sure Newland would manage it," Mrs. Welland said proudly of her future son-in-law.
Old Mrs. Mingott sent for him for a private talk. She praised his cleverness.
Then she added impatiently, "Silly goose! I told her myself what a silly idea it was. Wanting to pass herself off as Ellen Mingott, an old maid! An old maid was an unmarried woman growing old. And that when she has the luck to be a married woman and a Countess!"
Source English
"I was sure Newland would manage it," Mrs. Welland had said proudly of her future son-in-law; and old Mrs. Mingott, who had summoned him for a confidential interview, had congratulated him on his cleverness, and added impatiently: "Silly goose! I told her myself what nonsense it was. Wanting to pass herself off as Ellen Mingott and an old maid, when she has the luck to be a married woman and a Countess!"
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11
Easy English
These memories made his last talk with Madame Olenska burn bright in his mind. So, when the curtain fell on the two actors' parting, his eyes filled with tears. He stood up to leave the theater.
Source English
These incidents had made the memory of his last talk with Madame Olenska so vivid to the young man that as the curtain fell on the parting of the two actors his eyes filled with tears, and he stood up to leave the theatre.
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12
Easy English
He turned, and at the back of the house he saw the very lady in his thoughts. She sat in a box with the Beauforts, Lawrence Lefferts, and one or two other men.
He had not spoken with her alone since that evening. He even tried to avoid meeting her in company. But now their eyes met. At the same moment, Mrs. Beaufort saw him and made her lazy little sign of invitation. It was impossible not to go to their box.
Source English
In doing so, he turned to the side of the house behind him, and saw the lady of whom he was thinking seated in a box with the Beauforts, Lawrence Lefferts and one or two other men. He had not spoken with her alone since their evening together, and had tried to avoid being with her in company; but now their eyes met, and as Mrs. Beaufort recognised him at the same time, and made her languid little gesture of invitation, it was impossible not to go into the box.
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13
Easy English
Beaufort and Lefferts made room for him. He exchanged a few words with Mrs. Beaufort, who always preferred to look beautiful rather than talk. Then he took a seat behind Madame Olenska.
Only one other guest was there, old Mr. Sillerton Jackson. He was telling Mrs. Beaufort, in a low secret voice, about Mrs. Lemuel Struthers's last Sunday party. Some people reported that there was dancing.
Mrs. Beaufort listened with her perfect smile. She held her head at just the right angle, so the stalls could see her face from the side.
Under cover of this long story, Madame Olenska turned and spoke in a low voice.
Source English
Beaufort and Lefferts made way for him, and after a few words with Mrs. Beaufort, who always preferred to look beautiful and not have to talk, Archer seated himself behind Madame Olenska. There was no one else in the box but Mr. Sillerton Jackson, who was telling Mrs. Beaufort in a confidential undertone about Mrs. Lemuel Struthers's last Sunday reception (where some people reported that there had been dancing). Under cover of this circumstantial narrative, to which Mrs. Beaufort listened with her perfect smile, and her head at just the right angle to be seen in profile from the stalls, Madame Olenska turned and spoke in a low voice.
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14
Easy English
"Do you think," she asked, glancing toward the stage, "he will send her a bunch of yellow roses tomorrow morning?"
Source English
"Do you think," she asked, glancing toward the stage, "he will send her a bunch of yellow roses tomorrow morning?"
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15
Easy English
Archer's face went red, and his heart gave a jump of surprise. He had called at her house only twice. Each time he sent her a box of yellow roses, and each time without his card. She never spoke of the flowers, and he supposed she never guessed who sent them.
Now she knew. And she tied his gift to the tender parting on the stage. The thought filled him with a troubled pleasure.
Source English
Archer reddened, and his heart gave a leap of surprise. He had called only twice on Madame Olenska, and each time he had sent her a box of yellow roses, and each time without a card. She had never before made any allusion to the flowers, and he supposed she had never thought of him as the sender. Now her sudden recognition of the gift, and her associating it with the tender leave-taking on the stage, filled him with an agitated pleasure.
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16
Easy English
"I was thinking of that too," he said. "I was going to leave the theater, to carry the picture away with me."
Source English
"I was thinking of that too--I was going to leave the theatre in order to take the picture away with me," he said.
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17
Easy English
To his surprise, her color rose, slowly and darkly, as if against her will. She looked down at the little opera-glass in her smoothly gloved hands. Its case shone like the inside of a sea shell. After a pause she said, "What do you do while May is away?"
Source English
To his surprise her colour rose, reluctantly and duskily. She looked down at the mother-of-pearl opera-glass in her smoothly gloved hands, and said, after a pause: "What do you do while May is away?"
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18
Easy English
"I stick to my work," he answered, a little angry at the question.
Source English
"I stick to my work," he answered, faintly annoyed by the question.
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19
Easy English
The week before, the Wellands went south to St. Augustine, in Florida. It was an old family habit. Every year they spent the end of winter there. The reason was Mr. Welland's chest, which everyone supposed to be weak.
Mr. Welland was a mild and silent man. He had no opinions but many habits, and no one might touch them. One habit demanded that his wife and daughter always travel south with him. A quiet, unbroken home life was necessary to his peace of mind.
Without Mrs. Welland, he would not know where his hair-brushes were, or how to get stamps for his letters.
Source English
In obedience to a long-established habit, the Wellands had left the previous week for St. Augustine, where, out of regard for the supposed susceptibility of Mr. Welland's bronchial tubes, they always spent the latter part of the winter. Mr. Welland was a mild and silent man, with no opinions but with many habits. With these habits none might interfere; and one of them demanded that his wife and daughter should always go with him on his annual journey to the south. To preserve an unbroken domesticity was essential to his peace of mind; he would not have known where his hair-brushes were, or how to provide stamps for his letters, if Mrs. Welland had not been there to tell him.
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20
Easy English
All the family loved one another dearly, and Mr. Welland was the center of this love. So his wife and May never thought of letting him go alone. His two sons worked in the law and could not leave New York in winter. They joined him at Easter and traveled back with him.
Source English
As all the members of the family adored each other, and as Mr. Welland was the central object of their idolatry, it never occurred to his wife and May to let him go to St. Augustine alone; and his sons, who were both in the law, and could not leave New York during the winter, always joined him for Easter and travelled back with him.
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21
Easy English
Archer could not question May's going with her father. The Mingotts' family doctor owed his great name to one famous illness. That was the attack of pneumonia that Mr. Welland never had. Pneumonia is a dangerous illness of the lungs. So his demand for St. Augustine stood firm as rock.
The first plan was to announce May's engagement only after her return from Florida. The news came out sooner. But no one could expect that to change Mr. Welland's plans.
Archer wanted badly to join them. A few weeks of sun and boating with May — the thought was sweet. But he too was bound by custom and rules.
His duties at the law office were light. Even so, if he asked for a holiday in mid-winter, the whole Mingott family would call him idle and unserious. So he accepted May's going quietly, without a fight. He saw that this quiet accepting would be one of the main parts of married life.
Source English
It was impossible for Archer to discuss the necessity of May's accompanying her father. The reputation of the Mingotts' family physician was largely based on the attack of pneumonia which Mr. Welland had never had; and his insistence on St. Augustine was therefore inflexible. Originally, it had been intended that May's engagement should not be announced till her return from Florida, and the fact that it had been made known sooner could not be expected to alter Mr. Welland's plans. Archer would have liked to join the travellers and have a few weeks of sunshine and boating with his betrothed; but he too was bound by custom and conventions. Little arduous as his professional duties were, he would have been convicted of frivolity by the whole Mingott clan if he had suggested asking for a holiday in mid-winter; and he accepted May's departure with the resignation which he perceived would have to be one of the principal constituents of married life.
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22
Easy English
He felt that Madame Olenska was watching him with half-lowered eyes. "I have done what you wished — what you advised," she said suddenly.
Source English
He was conscious that Madame Olenska was looking at him under lowered lids. "I have done what you wished--what you advised," she said abruptly.
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23
Easy English
"Ah, I'm glad," he answered. It troubled him that she opened the subject in such a place.
Source English
"Ah--I'm glad," he returned, embarrassed by her broaching the subject at such a moment.
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24
Easy English
"I understand now that you were right," she went on, a little out of breath. "But sometimes life is difficult... confusing..."
Source English
"I understand--that you were right," she went on a little breathlessly; "but sometimes life is difficult ... perplexing..."
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25
Easy English
"I know."
Source English
"I know."
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26
Easy English
"And I wanted to tell you that I do feel you were right. And that I am thankful to you," she ended. At that moment, the door of the box opened, and Beaufort's deep voice broke in on them. She lifted her opera-glass quickly to her eyes.
Source English
"And I wanted to tell you that I do feel you were right; and that I'm grateful to you," she ended, lifting her opera-glass quickly to her eyes as the door of the box opened and Beaufort's resonant voice broke in on them.
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27
Easy English
Archer stood up, left the box, and left the theater.
Source English
Archer stood up, and left the box and the theatre.
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28
Easy English
Only the day before, he received a letter from May Welland. In her open, honest way, she asked him to "be kind to Ellen" while they were away.
Her letter said: "She likes you and admires you so much. And you know, though she does not show it, she is still very lonely and unhappy. I do not think Granny understands her, and uncle Lovell Mingott does not either.
"They really believe she loves parties and society far more than she does. And I can see that New York must seem dull to her, though the family will not admit it.
"I think she is used to many things we have not got: wonderful music, picture shows, and famous people. Artists, authors, all the clever people you admire. Granny cannot understand her wanting anything but dinners and clothes. But you are almost the only person in New York who can talk to her about what she cares for."
Source English
Only the day before he had received a letter from May Welland in which, with characteristic candour, she had asked him to "be kind to Ellen" in their absence. "She likes you and admires you so much--and you know, though she doesn't show it, she's still very lonely and unhappy. I don't think Granny understands her, or uncle Lovell Mingott either; they really think she's much worldlier and fonder of society than she is. And I can quite see that New York must seem dull to her, though the family won't admit it. I think she's been used to lots of things we haven't got; wonderful music, and picture shows, and celebrities--artists and authors and all the clever people you admire. Granny can't understand her wanting anything but lots of dinners and clothes--but I can see that you're almost the only person in New York who can talk to her about what she really cares for."
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29
Easy English
His wise May. How he loved her for that letter. But he did not mean to act on it. He was too busy, for one thing. And as an engaged man, he did not care to play too openly the part of Madame Olenska's defender.
He believed she could guard herself far better than the innocent May imagined. Beaufort was at her feet. Mr. van der Luyden watched over her from on high, like a protecting god. And other men waited at a middle distance for their chance, Lawrence Lefferts among them.
Yet every time he saw her or spoke with her, he felt the truth of May's letter. May's innocent eyes, it seemed, held a power of seeing hidden things. Ellen Olenska was lonely, and she was unhappy.
Source English
His wise May--how he had loved her for that letter! But he had not meant to act on it; he was too busy, to begin with, and he did not care, as an engaged man, to play too conspicuously the part of Madame Olenska's champion. He had an idea that she knew how to take care of herself a good deal better than the ingenuous May imagined. She had Beaufort at her feet, Mr. van der Luyden hovering above her like a protecting deity, and any number of candidates (Lawrence Lefferts among them) waiting their opportunity in the middle distance. Yet he never saw her, or exchanged a word with her, without feeling that, after all, May's ingenuousness almost amounted to a gift of divination. Ellen Olenska was lonely and she was unhappy.