Chapter XI

by Kate Chopin

　　"What are you doing out here, Edna? I thought I should findyou in bed," said her husband, when he discovered her lying there.He had walked up with Madame Lebrun and left her at the house. Hiswife did not reply."Are you asleep?" he asked, bending down close to look at her."No." Her eyes gleamed bright and intense, with no sleepyshadows, as they looked into his."Do you know it is past one o'clock? Come on," and he mountedthe steps and went into their room."Edna!" called Mr. Pontellier from within, after a few momentshad gone by."Don't wait for me," she answered. He thrust his head throughthe door."You will take cold out there," he said, irritably. "Whatfolly is this? Why don't you come in?""It isn't cold; I have my shawl.""The mosquitoes will devour you.""There are no mosquitoes."She heard him moving about the room; every sound indicatingimpatience and irritation. Another time she would have gone in athis request. She would, through habit, have yielded to his desire;not with any sense of submission or obedience to his compelling wishes, but unthinkingly,as we walk, move, sit, stand, go through the daily treadmill of thelife which has been portioned out to us."Edna, dear, are you not coming in soon?" he asked again, thistime fondly, with a note of entreaty."No; I am going to stay out here.""This is more than folly," he blurted out. "I can't permityou to stay out there all night. You must come in the houseinstantly."With a writhing motion she settled herself more securely inthe hammock. She perceived that her will had blazed up, stubbornand resistant. She could not at that moment have done other thandenied and resisted. She wondered if her husband had ever spokento her like that before, and if she had submitted to his command.Of course she had; she remembered that she had. But she could notrealize why or how she should have yielded, feeling as she thendid."Leonce, go to bed, " she said I mean to stay out here. Idon't wish to go in, and I don't intend to. Don't speak to me likethat again; I shall not answer you."Mr. Pontellier had prepared for bed, but he slipped on anextra garment. He opened a bottle of wine, of which he kept asmall and select supply in a buffet of his own. He drank a glassof the wine and went out on the gallery and offered a glass to hiswife. She did not wish any. He drew up the rocker, hoisted hisslippered feet on the rail, and proceeded to smoke a cigar. Hesmoked two cigars; then he went inside and drank another glass ofwine. Mrs. Pontellier again declined to accept a glass when it wasoffered to her. Mr. Pontellier once more seated himself withelevated feet, and after a reasonable interval of time smoked somemore cigars.Edna began to feel like one who awakens gradually out of adream, a delicious, grotesque, impossible dream, to feel again therealities pressing into her soul. The physical need for sleepbegan to overtake her; the exuberance which had sustained andexalted her spirit left her helpless and yielding to the conditionswhich crowded her in.The stillest hour of the night had come, the hour before dawn,when the world seems to hold its breath. The moon hung low, andhad turned from silver to copper in the sleeping sky. The old owlno longer hooted, and the water-oaks had ceased to moan as theybent their heads.Edna arose, cramped from lying so long and still in thehammock. She tottered up the steps, clutching feebly at the postbefore passing into the house."Are you coming in, Leonce?" she asked, turning her facetoward her husband."Yes, dear," he answered, with a glance following a misty puffof smoke. "Just as soon as I have finished my cigar.