Chapter XVI

by Kate Chopin

　　"Do you miss your friend greatly?" asked Mademoiselle Reiszone morning as she came creeping up behind Edna, who had just lefther cottage on her way to the beach. She spent much of her time inthe water since she had acquired finally the art of swimming. Astheir stay at Grand Isle drew near its close, she felt that shecould not give too much time to a diversion which afforded her theonly real pleasurable moments that she knew. When MademoiselleReisz came and touched her upon the shoulder and spoke to her, thewoman seemed to echo the thought which was ever in Edna's mind; or,better, the feeling which constantly possessed her.Robert's going had some way taken the brightness, the color,the meaning out of everything. The conditions of her life were inno way changed, but her whole existence was dulled, like a fadedgarment which seems to be no longer worth wearing. She sought himeverywhere--in others whom she induced to talk about him. She wentup in the mornings to Madame Lebrun's room, braving the clatter ofthe old sewing-machine. She sat there and chatted at intervals asRobert had done. She gazed around the room at the pictures andphotographs hanging upon the wall, and discovered in some corner anold family album, which she examined with the keenest interest,appealing to Madame Lebrun for enlightenment concerning the manyfigures and faces which she discovered between its pages.There was a picture of Madame Lebrun with Robert as a baby,seated in her lap, a round-faced infant with a fist in his mouth.The eyes alone in the baby suggested the man. And that was he alsoin kilts, at the age of five, wearing long curls and holding a whipin his hand. It made Edna laugh, and she laughed, too, at the portraitin his first long trousers; while another interested her, taken when heleft for college, looking thin, long-faced, with eyes full of fire,ambition and great intentions. But there was no recent picture,none which suggested the Robert who had gone away five days ago,leaving a void and wilderness behind him."Oh, Robert stopped having his pictures taken when he had topay for them himself! He found wiser use for his money, he says,"explained Madame Lebrun. She had a letter from him, written beforehe left New Orleans. Edna wished to see the letter, and MadameLebrun told her to look for it either on the table or the dresser,or perhaps it was on the mantelpiece.The letter was on the bookshelf. It possessed the greatestinterest and attraction for Edna; the envelope, its size and shape,the post-mark, the handwriting. She examined every detail of theoutside before opening it. There were only a few lines, settingforth that he would leave the city that afternoon, that he hadpacked his trunk in good shape, that he was well, and sent her hislove and begged to be affectionately remembered to all. There wasno special message to Edna except a postscript saying that if Mrs.Pontellier desired to finish the book which he had been reading toher, his mother would find it in his room, among other books thereon the table. Edna experienced a pang of jealousy because he hadwritten to his mother rather than to her.Every one seemed to take for granted that she missed him.Even her husband, when he came down the Saturday following Robert'sdeparture, expressed regret that he had gone."How do you get on without him, Edna?" he asked."It's very dull without him," she admitted. Mr. Pontellierhad seen Robert in the city, and Edna asked him a dozen questionsor more. Where had they met? On Carondelet Street, in the morning.They had gone "in" and had a drink and a cigar together. What hadthey talked about? Chiefly about his prospects in Mexico, whichMr. Pontellier thought were promising. How did he look? How didhe seem--grave, or gay, or how? Quite cheerful, and whollytaken up with the idea of his trip, which Mr. Pontellier foundaltogether natural in a young fellow about to seek fortuneand adventure in a strange, queer country.Edna tapped her foot impatiently, and wondered why thechildren persisted in playing in the sun when they might be underthe trees. She went down and led them out of the sun, scolding thequadroon for not being more attentive.It did not strike her as in the least grotesque that sheshould be making of Robert the object of conversation and leadingher husband to speak of him. The sentiment which she entertainedfor Robert in no way resembled that which she felt for her husband,or had ever felt, or ever expected to feel. She had all her lifelong been accustomed to harbor thoughts and emotions which nevervoiced themselves. They had never taken the form of struggles.They belonged to her and were her own, and she entertained theconviction that she had a right to them and that they concerned noone but herself. Edna had once told Madame Ratignolle that shewould never sacrifice herself for her children, or for any one.Then had followed a rather heated argument; the two women did notappear to understand each other or to be talking the same language.Edna tried to appease her friend, to explain."I would give up the unessential; I would give my money, Iwould give my life for my children; but I wouldn't give myself. Ican't make it more clear; it's only something which I am beginningto comprehend, which is revealing itself to me.""I don't know what you would call the essential, or what youmean by the unessential," said Madame Ratignolle, cheerfully; "buta woman who would give her life for her children could do no morethan that--your Bible tells you so. I'm sure I couldn't do morethan that.""Oh, yes you could!" laughed Edna.She was not surprised at Mademoiselle Reisz's question themorning that lady, following her to the beach, tapped her on theshoulder and asked if she did not greatly miss her young friend."Oh, good morning, Mademoiselle; is it you? Why, of course Imiss Robert. Are you going down to bathe?""Why should I go down to bathe at the very end of the seasonwhen I haven't been in the surf all summer," replied the woman,disagreeably."I beg your pardon," offered Edna, in some embarrassment, forshe should have remembered that Mademoiselle Reisz's avoidance ofthe water had furnished a theme for much pleasantry. Some amongthem thought it was on account of her false hair, or the dread ofgetting the violets wet, while others attributed it to the naturalaversion for water sometimes believed to accompany the artistictemperament. Mademoiselle offered Edna some chocolates in a paperbag, which she took from her pocket, by way of showing that shebore no ill feeling. She habitually ate chocolates for theirsustaining quality; they contained much nutriment in small compass,she said. They saved her from starvation, as Madame Lebrun's tablewas utterly impossible; and no one save so impertinent a woman asMadame Lebrun could think of offering such food to people andrequiring them to pay for it."She must feel very lonely without her son," said Edna,desiring to change the subject. "Her favorite son, too. It musthave been quite hard to let him go."Mademoiselle laughed maliciously."Her favorite son! Oh, dear! Who could have been imposing sucha tale upon you? Aline Lebrun lives for Victor, and for Victoralone. She has spoiled him into the worthless creature he is. Sheworships him and the ground he walks on. Robert is very well in away, to give up all the money he can earn to the family, and keepthe barest pittance for himself. Favorite son, indeed! I miss thepoor fellow myself, my dear. I liked to see him and to hear himabout the place the only Lebrun who is worth a pinch of salt.He comes to see me often in the city. I like to play tohim. That Victor! hanging would be too good for him.It's a wonder Robert hasn't beaten him to death long ago.""I thought he had great patience with his brother," offeredEdna, glad to be talking about Robert, no matter what was said."Oh! he thrashed him well enough a year or two ago," saidMademoiselle. "It was about a Spanish girl, whom Victor consideredthat he had some sort of claim upon. He met Robert one day talkingto the girl, or walking with her, or bathing with her, or carryingher basket--I don't remember what;--and he became so insulting andabusive that Robert gave him a thrashing on the spot that has kepthim comparatively in order for a good while. It's about time hewas getting another.""Was her name Mariequita?" asked Edna."Mariequita--yes, that was it; Mariequita. I had forgotten.Oh, she's a sly one, and a bad one, that Mariequita!"Edna looked down at Mademoiselle Reisz and wondered how shecould have listened to her venom so long. For some reason she feltdepressed, almost unhappy. She had not intended to go into thewater; but she donned her bathing suit, and left Mademoisellealone, seated under the shade of the children's tent. The waterwas growing cooler as the season advanced. Edna plunged and swamabout with an abandon that thrilled and invigorated her. Sheremained a long time in the water, half hoping that MademoiselleReisz would not wait for her.But Mademoiselle waited. She was very amiable during the walkback, and raved much over Edna's appearance in her bathing suit.She talked about music. She hoped that Edna would go to see her inthe city, and wrote her address with the stub of a pencil on apiece of card which she found in her pocket."When do you leave?" asked Edna."Next Monday; and you?""The following week," answered Edna, adding, "It has beena pleasant summer, hasn't it, Mademoiselle?""Well," agreed Mademoiselle Reisz, with a shrug, "rather pleasant,if it hadn't been for the mosquitoes and the Farival twins."