Newland is experiencing a conflict of feeling: He is caught in a matrimonial snare, yet he has always adhered to society's rules. With more bridal calls to make from "one tribal doorstep to another," Newland perceives himself "shown off like a wild animal cunningly trapped." Should he have told May that he is calling on Madame Olenska? Should he be content with his in-laws' decision on the house he will occupy and with his wife's conventional interior decoration? Wharton highlights this conflict by placing him in Madame Olenska's drawing room, which is charmingly arranged with unconventional paintings. Even the smell of the artfully arranged flowers is exotic. This seems like freedom. Ellen contrasts her drawing room with the gloominess of the van der Luydens.' Why must everyone be exactly alike? Newland has not questioned that idea before.
Madame Olenska is totally destroying the balance in Newland's world, and, to make matters worse, she brings out his protective instincts. When she confesses to her loneliness, he suggests that New Yorkers have opened their arms to her. However, she candidly tells him something he realizes but does not want to accept: New Yorkers do not seem to want to hear "the truth" and she feels very lonely among people who request that she pretend. Her distress causes him to drop his formalities, improperly take her hand, call her by her first name (Ellen), and then guiltily remember his fiancé.
Newland is playing with fire. The vivid yellow roses are too strong for his insipid fiancé but perfect for the Countess Olenska's free spirit. He places his card with the roses for Madame Olenska, but — conscience stricken — withdraws it. Two boxes of flowers, one white and one golden, are going to two women. With one he would live an orthodox life; with the other he would be free. One seems to lack imagination and original thoughts — a person suitably symbolized by bland, white lilies-of-the-valley — while the other represents the passion and imagination of yellow roses.
