Chapter XXIII

by Kate Chopin

　　Edna's father was in the city, and had been with them severaldays. She was not very warmly or deeply attached to him, but theyhad certain tastes in common, and when together they werecompanionable. His coming was in the nature of a welcomedisturbance; it seemed to furnish a new direction for her emotions.He had come to purchase a wedding gift for his daughter,Janet, and an outfit for himself in which he might make acreditable appearance at her marriage. Mr. Pontellier had selectedthe bridal gift, as every one immediately connected with him alwaysdeferred to his taste in such matters. And his suggestions on thequestion of dress--which too often assumes the nature of aproblemwere of inestimable value to his father-in-law. But for the pastfew days the old gentleman had been upon Edna's hands, and in hissociety she was becoming acquainted with a new set of sensations.He had been a colonel in the Confederate army, and stillmaintained, with the title, the military bearing which had alwaysaccompanied it. His hair and mustache were white and silky,emphasizing the rugged bronze of his face. He was tall and thin, andwore his coats padded, which gave a fictitious breadth and depth tohis shoulders and chest. Edna and her father looked verydistinguished together, and excited a good deal of notice duringtheir perambulations. Upon his arrival she began by introducinghim to her atelier and making a sketch of him. He took the wholematter very seriously. If her talent had been ten-fold greaterthan it was, it would not have surprised him, convinced as he wasthat he had bequeathed to all of his daughters the germs of amasterful capability, which only depended upon their own effortsto be directed toward successful achievement.Before her pencil he sat rigid and unflinching, as he hadfaced the cannon's mouth in days gone by. He resented theintrusion of the children, who gaped with wondering eyes at him,sitting so stiff up there in their mother's bright atelier. Whenthey drew near he motioned them away with an expressive action ofthe foot, loath to disturb the fixed lines of his countenance, hisarms, or his rigid shoulders.Edna, anxious to entertain him, invited Mademoiselle Reisz tomeet him, having promised him a treat in her piano playing; butMademoiselle declined the invitation. So together they attended asoiree musicale at the Ratignolles'. Monsieur and MadameRatignolle made much of the Colonel, installing him as the guest ofhonor and engaging him at once to dine with them the followingSunday, or any day which he might select. Madame coquetted withhim in the most captivating and naive manner, with eyes, gestures,and a profusion of compliments, till the Colonel's old head feltthirty years younger on his padded shoulders. Edna marveled, notcomprehending. She herself was almost devoid of coquetry.There were one or two men whom she observed at the soireemusicale; but she would never have felt moved to any kittenishdisplay to attract their notice--to any feline or feminine wiles toexpress herself toward them. Their personality attracted her in anagreeable way. Her fancy selected them, and she was glad when alull in the music gave them an opportunity to meet her and talkwith her. Often on the street the glance of strange eyes hadlingered in her memory, and sometimes had disturbed her.Mr. Pontellier did not attend these soirees musicales.He considered them bourgeois, and found more diversion at the club.To Madame Ratignolle he said the music dispensed at her soireeswas too "heavy," too far beyond his untrained comprehension. Hisexcuse flattered her. But she disapproved of Mr. Pontellier'sclub, and she was frank enough to tell Edna so."It's a pity Mr. Pontellier doesn't stay home more in theevenings. I think you would be more--well, if you don't mind mysaying it--more united, if he did.""Oh! dear no!" said Edna, with a blank look in her eyes."What should I do if he stayed home? We wouldn't have anything tosay to each other."She had not much of anything to say to her father, for thatmatter; but he did not antagonize her. She discovered that heinterested her, though she realized that he might not interest herlong; and for the first time in her life she felt as if she werethoroughly acquainted with him. He kept her busy serving him andministering to his wants. It amused her to do so. She would notpermit a servant or one of the children to do anything for himwhich she might do herself. Her husband noticed, and thought itwas the expression of a deep filial attachment which he had neversuspected.The Colonel drank numerous "toddies" during the course of theday, which left him, however, imperturbed. He was an expert atconcocting strong drinks. He had even invented some, to which hehad given fantastic names, and for whose manufacture he requireddiverse ingredients that it devolved upon Edna to procure for him.When Doctor Mandelet dined with the Pontelliers on Thursday hecould discern in Mrs. Pontellier no trace of that morbid conditionwhich her husband had reported to him. She was excited and in amanner radiant. She and her father had been to the race course,and their thoughts when they seated themselves at table were stilloccupied with the events of the afternoon, and their talk was stillof the track. The Doctor had not kept pace with turf affairs. Hehad certain recollections of racing in what he called "the good oldtimes" when the Lecompte stables flourished, and he drew upon thisfund of memories so that he might not be left out and seem whollydevoid of the modern spirit. But he failed to impose upon theColonel, and was even far from impressing him with this trumped-upknowledge of bygone days. Edna had staked her father on his lastventure, with the most gratifying results to both of them.Besides, they had met some very charming people, accordingto the Colonel's impressions. Mrs. Mortimer Merriman andMrs. James Highcamp, who were there with Alcee Arobin,had joined them and had enlivened the hours in a fashionthat warmed him to think of.Mr. Pontellier himself had no particular leaning towardhorseracing, and was even rather inclined to discourage it as a pastime,especially when he considered the fate of that blue-grass farm inKentucky. He endeavored, in a general way, to express a particulardisapproval, and only succeeded in arousing the ire and oppositionof his father-in-law. A pretty dispute followed, in which Ednawarmly espoused her father's cause and the Doctor remained neutral.He observed his hostess attentively from under his shaggybrows, and noted a subtle change which had transformed her from thelistless woman he had known into a being who, for the moment,seemed palpitant with the forces of life. Her speech was warm andenergetic. There was no repression in her glance or gesture. Shereminded him of some beautiful, sleek animal waking up in the sun.The dinner was excellent. The claret was warm and thechampagne was cold, and under their beneficent influence thethreatened unpleasantness melted and vanished with the fumes of thewine.Mr. Pontellier warmed up and grew reminiscent. He told someamusing plantation experiences, recollections of old Iberville andhis youth, when he hunted `possum in company with some friendlydarky; thrashed the pecan trees, shot the grosbec, and roamed thewoods and fields in mischievous idleness.The Colonel, with little sense of humor and of the fitness ofthings, related a somber episode of those dark and bitter days, inwhich he had acted a conspicuous part and always formed a centralfigure. Nor was the Doctor happier in his selection, when he toldthe old, ever new and curious story of the waning of a woman's love,seeking strange, new channels, only to return to its legitimate sourceafter days of fierce unrest. It was one of the many little humandocuments which had been unfolded to him during his long career asa physician. The story did not seem especially to impress Edna.She had one of her own to tell, of a woman who paddled away withher lover one night in a pirogue and never came back. They werelost amid the Baratarian Islands, and no one ever heard of them orfound trace of them from that day to this. It was a pureinvention. She said that Madame Antoine had related it to her.That, also, was an invention. Perhaps it was a dream she had had.But every glowing word seemed real to those who listened. Theycould feel the hot breath of the Southern night; they could hearthe long sweep of the pirogue through the glistening moonlit water,the beating of birds' wings, rising startled from among the reedsin the salt-water pools; they could see the faces of the lovers,pale, close together, rapt in oblivious forgetfulness, driftinginto the unknown.The champagne was cold, and its subtle fumes played fantastictricks with Edna's memory that night.Outside, away from the glow of the fire and the softlamplight, the night was chill and murky. The Doctor doubled hisold-fashioned cloak across his breast as he strode home through thedarkness. He knew his fellow-creatures better than most men; knewthat inner life which so seldom unfolds itself to unanointed* eyes.He was sorry he had accepted Pontellier's invitation. He wasgrowing old, and beginning to need rest and an imperturbed spirit.He did not want the secrets of other lives thrust upon him."I hope it isn't Arobin," he muttered to himself as he walked."I hope to heaven it isn't Alcee Arobin."