Chapter XII

by Kate Chopin

　　She slept but a few hours. They were troubled and feverishhours, disturbed with dreams that were intangible, that eluded her,leaving only an impression upon her half-awakened senses ofsomething unattainable. She was up and dressed in the cool of theearly morning. The air was invigorating and steadied somewhat herfaculties. However, she was not seeking refreshment or help fromany source, either external or from within. She was blindlyfollowing whatever impulse moved her, as if she had placed herselfin alien hands for direction, and freed her soul of responsibility.Most of the people at that early hour were still in bed andasleep. A few, who intended to go over to the Cheniere formass, were moving about. The lovers, who had laid their plans thenight before, were already strolling toward the wharf. The lady inblack, with her Sunday prayer-book, velvet and gold-clasped,and her Sunday silver beads, was following them at no great distance.Old Monsieur Farival was up, and was more than half inclined to doanything that suggested itself. He put on his big straw hat,and taking his umbrella from the stand in the hall, followedthe lady in black, never overtaking her.The little negro girl who worked Madame Lebrun's sewing-machinewas sweeping the galleries with long, absent-minded strokesof the broom. Edna sent her up into the house to awaken Robert."Tell him I am going to the Cheniere. The boat is ready;tell him to hurry."He had soon joined her. She had never sent for him before.She had never asked for him. She had never seemed to want himbefore. She did not appear conscious that she had done anythingunusual in commanding his presence. He was apparently equallyunconscious of anything extraordinary in the situation. But hisface was suffused with a quiet glow when he met her.They went together back to the kitchen to drink coffee. Therewas no time to wait for any nicety of service. They stood outsidethe window and the cook passed them their coffee and a roll, whichthey drank and ate from the window-sill. Edna said it tasted good.She had not thought of coffee nor of anything. He told her he hadoften noticed that she lacked forethought."Wasn't it enough to think of going to the Cheniere andwaking you up?" she laughed. "Do I have to think ofeverything?--as Leonce says when he's in a bad humor.I don't blame him; he'd never be in a bad humor if it weren't for me."They took a short cut across the sands. At a distance theycould see the curious procession moving toward the wharf--thelovers, shoulder to shoulder, creeping; the lady in black, gainingsteadily upon them; old Monsieur Farival, losing ground inch byinch, and a young barefooted Spanish girl, with a red kerchief onher head and a basket on her arm, bringing up the rear.Robert knew the girl, and he talked to her a little in the boat.No one present understood what they said. Her name was Mariequita.She had a round, sly, piquant face and pretty black eyes.Her hands were small, and she kept them folded over thehandle of her basket. Her feet were broad and coarse.She did not strive to hide them. Edna looked at her feet,and noticed the sand and slime between her brown toes.Beaudelet grumbled because Mariequita was there, taking up somuch room. In reality he was annoyed at having old Monsieur Farival,who considered himself the better sailor of the two. But hehe would not quarrel with so old a man as Monsieur Farival, so hequarreled with Mariequita. The girl was deprecatory at one moment,appealing to Robert. She was saucy the next, moving her head upand down, making "eyes" at Robert and making "mouths" at Beaudelet.The lovers were all alone. They saw nothing, they heardnothing. The lady in black was counting her beads for the thirdtime. Old Monsieur Farival talked incessantly of what he knewabout handling a boat, and of what Beaudelet did not know on thesame subject.Edna liked it all. She looked Mariequita up and down, fromher ugly brown toes to her pretty black eyes, andback again."Why does she look at me like that?" inquired the girl of Robert."Maybe she thinks you are pretty. Shall I ask her?""No. Is she your sweetheart?""She's a married lady, and has two children.""Oh! well! Francisco ran away with Sylvano's wife, who hadfour children. They took all his money and one of the children andstole his boat.""Shut up!""Does she understand?""Oh, hush!""Are those two married over there--leaning on each other?""Of course not," laughed Robert."Of course not," echoed Mariequita, with a serious,confirmatory bob of the head.The sun was high up and beginning to bite. The swift breezeseemed to Edna to bury the sting of it into the pores of her faceand hands. Robert held his umbrella over her. As they wentcutting sidewise through the water, the sails bellied taut, withthe wind filling and overflowing them. Old Monsieur Farivallaughed sardonically at something as he looked at the sails, andBeaudelet swore at the old man under his breath.Sailing across the bay to the Cheniere Caminada, Edna feltas if she were being borne away from some anchorage which had heldher fast, whose chains had been loosening--had snapped the nightbefore when the mystic spirit was abroad, leaving her free to driftwhithersoever she chose to set her sails. Robert spoke to herincessantly; he no longer noticed Mariequita. The girl had shrimpsin her bamboo basket. They were covered with Spanish moss. Shebeat the moss down impatiently, and muttered to herself sullenly."Let us go to Grande Terre to-morrow?" said Robert in a lowvoice."What shall we do there?""Climb up the hill to the old fort and look at the littlewriggling gold snakes, and watch the lizards sun themselves."She gazed away toward Grande Terre and thought she would liketo be alone there with Robert, in the sun, listening to the ocean'sroar and watching the slimy lizards writhe in and out among theruins of the old fort."And the next day or the next we can sail to the BayouBrulow," he went on."What shall we do there?""Anything--cast bait for fish.""No; we'll go back to Grande Terre. Let the fish alone.""We'll go wherever you like," he said. "I'll have Tonie comeover and help me patch and trim my boat. We shall not need Beaudeletnor any one. Are you afraid of the pirogue?""Oh, no.""Then I'll take you some night in the pirogue when the moonshines. Maybe your Gulf spirit will whisper to you in which ofthese islands the treasures are hidden--direct you to the veryspot, perhaps.""And in a day we should be rich!" she laughed. "I'd give itall to you, the pirate gold and every bit of treasure we could digup. I think you would know how to spend it. Pirate gold isn't athing to be hoarded or utilized. It is something to squander andthrow to the four winds, for the fun of seeing the golden specksfly.""We'd share it, and scatter it together," he said. His faceflushed.They all went together up to the quaint little Gothic churchof Our Lady of Lourdes, gleaming all brown and yellow with paint inthe sun's glare.Only Beaudelet remained behind, tinkering at his boat, andMariequita walked away with her basket of shrimps, casting a lookof childish ill humor and reproach at Robert from the corner of hereye.