Chapter I

by Kate Chopin

　　A green and yellow parrot, which hung in a cage outside thedoor, kept repeating over and over:"Allez vous-en! Allez vous-en! Sapristi! That's all right!"He could speak a little Spanish, and also a language whichnobody understood, unless it was the mocking-bird that hung on theother side of the door, whistling his fluty notes out upon thebreeze with maddening persistence.Mr. Pontellier, unable to read his newspaper with any degreeof comfort, arose with an expression and an exclamation of disgust.He walked down the gallery and across the narrow "bridges" whichconnected the Lebrun cottages one with the other. He had beenseated before the door of the main house. The parrot and themockingbird were the property of Madame Lebrun, and they had theright to make all the noise they wished. Mr. Pontellier had theprivilege of quitting their society when they ceased to beentertaining.He stopped before the door of his own cottage, which was thefourth one from the main building and next to the last. Seatinghimself in a wicker rocker which was there, he once more appliedhimself to the task of reading the newspaper. The day was Sunday;the paper was a day old. The Sunday papers had not yet reachedGrand Isle. He was already acquainted with the market reports,and he glanced restlessly over the editorials and bits of news whichhe had not had time to read before quitting New Orleans the day before.Mr. Pontellier wore eye-glasses. He was a man of forty, ofmedium height and rather slender build; he stooped a little. Hishair was brown and straight, parted on one side. His beard wasneatly and closely trimmed.Once in a while he withdrew his glance from the newspaper andlooked about him. There was more noise than ever over at thehouse. The main building was called "the house," to distinguish itfrom the cottages. The chattering and whistling birds were stillat it. Two young girls, the Farival twins, were playing a duetfrom "Zampa" upon the piano. Madame Lebrun was bustling in andout, giving orders in a high key to a yard-boy whenever she gotinside the house, and directions in an equally high voice to adining-room servant whenever she got outside. She was a fresh,pretty woman, clad always in white with elbow sleeves. Herstarched skirts crinkled as she came and went. Farther down,before one of the cottages, a lady in black was walking demurely upand down, telling her beads. A good many persons of the pensionhad gone over to the Cheniere Caminada in Beaudelet'slugger to hear mass. Some young people were out under thewateroaks playing croquet. Mr. Pontellier's two children were theresturdy little fellows of four and five. A quadroon nurse followedthem about with a faraway, meditative air.Mr. Pontellier finally lit a cigar and began to smoke, lettingthe paper drag idly from his hand. He fixed his gaze upon a whitesunshade that was advancing at snail's pace from the beach. Hecould see it plainly between the gaunt trunks of the water-oaks andacross the stretch of yellow camomile. The gulf looked far away,melting hazily into the blue of the horizon. The sunshadecontinued to approach slowly. Beneath its pink-lined shelter werehis wife, Mrs. Pontellier, and young Robert Lebrun. When theyreached the cottage, the two seated themselves with some appearanceof fatigue upon the upper step of the porch, facing each other,each leaning against a supporting post."What folly! to bathe at such an hour in such heat!" exclaimedMr. Pontellier. He himself had taken a plunge at daylight. Thatwas why the morning seemed long to him."You are burnt beyond recognition," he added, looking at hiswife as one looks at a valuable piece of personal property whichhas suffered some damage. She held up her hands, strong, shapelyhands, and surveyed them critically, drawing up her fawn sleevesabove the wrists. Looking at them reminded her of her rings, whichshe had given to her husband before leaving for the beach. Shesilently reached out to him, and he, understanding, took the ringsfrom his vest pocket and dropped them into her open palm. Sheslipped them upon her fingers; then clasping her knees, she lookedacross at Robert and began to laugh. The rings sparkled upon herfingers. He sent back an answering smile."What is it?" asked Pontellier, looking lazily and amused fromone to the other. It was some utter nonsense; some adventure outthere in the water, and they both tried to relate it at once. Itdid not seem half so amusing when told. They realized this, and sodid Mr. Pontellier. He yawned and stretched himself. Then he gotup, saying he had half a mind to go over to Klein's hotel and playa game of billiards."Come go along, Lebrun," he proposed to Robert. But Robertadmitted quite frankly that he preferred to stay where he was andtalk to Mrs. Pontellier."Well, send him about his business when he bores you, Edna,"instructed her husband as he prepared to leave."Here, take the umbrella," she exclaimed, holding it out tohim. He accepted the sunshade, and lifting it over his headdescended the steps and walked away."Coming back to dinner?" his wife called after him. He halteda moment and shrugged his shoulders. He felt in his vest pocket;there was a ten-dollar bill there. He did not know; perhaps hewould return for the early dinner and perhaps he would not.It all depended upon the company which he found over at Klein'sand the size of "the game." He did not say this, but she understood it,and laughed, nodding good-by to him.Both children wanted to follow their father when they saw himstarting out. He kissed them and promised to bring them backbonbons and peanuts.