When Newland Archer arrived at the New York Academy of Music, one January evening in the early 1870s, the opera had already begun. There was no reason why the young man should not have come earlier. He had had dinner at seven, alone with his mother and sister, and then sat unhurriedly smoking his cigar in his private library. But fashionable young men did not arrive early at the opera. That was one of the unwritten rules of society, and in Newland Archer’s New York these rules were as important as life and death.
　　Another reason for the young man’s delay was that he enjoyed looking forward to pleasures just as much as actually experiencing them, and Gounod’s Faust was one of his favourite operas. As he opened the door at the back of his box, he felt he had chosen just the right moment to arrive. Christine Nilsson, the Swedish singer whom all New York had gathered to hear, was singing, ‘He loves me – he loves me not – he loves me!’
　　She sang in Italian, of course, not in English, since an unquestioned law of the musical world demanded that the German words of French operas sung by Swedish singers should be translated into Italian, for the clearer understanding of English-speaking audiences. This seemed as natural to Newland as all the other laws that governed his life, like never appearing in society without a flower in his buttonhole, and having two silver-backed brushes for his hair.
　　He turned his eyes away from the singer and looked at the audience. Directly opposite him was the box of old Mrs Manson Mingott, who was now so fat that she was unable to attend the opera, but whose family often came on fashionable nights. Tonight the front of the box was filled by her daughter-in-law, Mrs Lovell Mingott, and her daughter, Mrs Welland. A little behind these ladies in their heavy silks sat a young girl in white, with her eyes fixed on the singer. As Madame Nilsson’s voice rose above the silent audience (the boxes always stopped talking during this song), a warm pink spread over the girl’s face and shoulders, right down to the top of her evening dress. She dropped her eyes to the enormous bunch of white flowers on her knee, and touched them gently.
　　19世紀(jì)70年代初一月的某個(gè)夜晚，當(dāng)紐蘭?阿徹來(lái)到紐約音樂(lè)學(xué)院時(shí)，歌劇已經(jīng)開(kāi)場(chǎng)。這個(gè)年輕人本沒(méi)有理由不早點(diǎn)到。七點(diǎn)鐘時(shí)，他已經(jīng)和母親、妹妹一起用了晚餐，然后坐在自己的私人圖書(shū)室里不慌不忙地抽雪茄。然而，時(shí)尚的年輕人去聽(tīng)歌劇時(shí)是不會(huì)早到的，那是社交界不成文的規(guī)矩之一。在紐蘭?阿徹所身處的紐約，這些規(guī)矩是與生死一樣重要的大事。
　　這位年輕人晚到還有另一個(gè)原因，那就是，他不單喜歡享受快樂(lè)，且同樣喜歡期盼快樂(lè)到來(lái)的感覺(jué)；而古諾的《浮士德》正是他最喜歡的歌劇之一。當(dāng)他打開(kāi)包廂后面的門時(shí)，他覺(jué)得自己來(lái)得剛好是時(shí)候�？死锼沟倌�?尼爾森，這位讓全紐約的人都齊聚一堂來(lái)聽(tīng)她演唱的瑞典歌唱家，正在唱著“他愛(ài)我——他不愛(ài)我——他愛(ài)我！”
　　當(dāng)然，她不是用英語(yǔ)，而是用意大利語(yǔ)演唱的。根據(jù)音樂(lè)界公認(rèn)的法則，由瑞典歌唱家演唱的法國(guó)歌劇的德語(yǔ)文本，必須翻譯成意大利語(yǔ)，以便讓講英語(yǔ)的聽(tīng)眾理解得更清楚。對(duì)紐蘭來(lái)說(shuō)，這一點(diǎn)和他生活中遵循的所有其他規(guī)矩一樣理所當(dāng)然：比如，紐扣眼里永遠(yuǎn)得插一朵花才能在社交界露面；還要有兩把梳理頭發(fā)的銀背刷子。
　　他把目光從歌唱家身上移開(kāi)，掃視著觀眾。正對(duì)著他的是曼森?明戈特老太太的包廂。她因?yàn)檫^(guò)度肥胖，如今已經(jīng)不能來(lái)聽(tīng)歌劇了。不過(guò)，在有時(shí)尚人士社交活動(dòng)的晚上，她的家庭成員往往會(huì)出席。今晚，坐在包廂前排座位的是她的兒媳洛弗爾?明戈特太太和她的女兒韋蘭太太。這兩位身著層層錦緞的婦人身后坐著一位穿白衣的年輕姑娘，她正目不轉(zhuǎn)睛地看著歌唱家。當(dāng)尼爾森夫人的歌聲劃破觀眾席寂靜的上空時(shí)（演唱這首歌期間，各包廂的人們總是會(huì)停止交談），一抹紅暈泛起在姑娘的面頰，漫過(guò)肩頭，直至她晚禮服的領(lǐng)線。她垂下眼睛望著膝上那一大束白花，用手輕撫著。
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