Chapter XXVI

by Kate Chopin

　　Alcee Arobin wrote Edna an elaborate note of apology,palpitant with sincerity. It embarrassed her; for in a cooler,quieter moment it appeared to her, absurd that she should havetaken his action so seriously, so dramatically. She felt sure thatthe significance of the whole occurrence had lain in her ownself-consciousness. If she ignored his note it would give undueimportance to a trivial affair. If she replied to it in a seriousspirit it would still leave in his mind the impression that she hadin a susceptible moment yielded to his influence. After all, itwas no great matter to have one's hand kissed. She was provoked athis having written the apology. She answered in as light andbantering a spirit as she fancied it deserved, and said she wouldbe glad to have him look in upon her at work whenever he felt theinclination and his business gave him the opportunity.He responded at once by presenting himself at her home withall his disarming naivete. And then there was scarcely a day whichfollowed that she did not see him or was not reminded of him. Hewas prolific in pretexts. His attitude became one of good-humoredsubservience and tacit adoration. He was ready at all times tosubmit to her moods, which were as often kind as they were cold.She grew accustomed to him. They became intimate and friendly byimperceptible degrees, and then by leaps. He sometimes talked ina way that astonished her at first and brought the crimson into herface; in a way that pleased her at last, appealing to the animalismthat stirred impatiently within her.There was nothing which so quieted the turmoil of Edna'ssenses as a visit to Mademoiselle Reisz. It was then,in the presence of that personality which was offensive to her,that the woman, by her divine art, seemed to reach Edna's spiritand set it free.It was misty, with heavy, lowering atmosphere, one afternoon,when Edna climbed the stairs to the pianist's apartments under theroof. Her clothes were dripping with moisture. She felt chilledand pinched as she entered the room. Mademoiselle was poking at arusty stove that smoked a little and warmed the room indifferently.She was endeavoring to heat a pot of chocolate on the stove. Theroom looked cheerless and dingy to Edna as she entered. A bust ofBeethoven, covered with a hood of dust, scowled at her from themantelpiece."Ah! here comes the sunlight!" exclaimed Mademoiselle, risingfrom her knees before the stove. "Now it will be warm and brightenough; I can let the fire alone."She closed the stove door with a bang, and approaching,assisted in removing Edna's dripping mackintosh."You are cold; you look miserable. The chocolate will soon be hot.But would you rather have a taste of brandy? I have scarcelytouched the bottle which you brought me for my cold." A piece ofred flannel was wrapped around Mademoiselle's throat; a stiff neckcompelled her to hold her head on one side."I will take some brandy," said Edna, shivering as she removedher gloves and overshoes. She drank the liquor from the glass asa man would have done. Then flinging herself upon theuncomfortable sofa she said, "Mademoiselle, I am going to moveaway from my house on Esplanade Street.""Ah!" ejaculated the musician, neither surprised nor especially interested.Nothing ever seemed to astonish her very much. She was endeavoring to adjustthe bunch of violets which had become loose from its fastening in her hair.Edna drew her down upon the sofa, and taking a pin from her own hair,secured the shabby artificial flowers in their accustomed place."Aren't you astonished?""Passably. Where are you going? to New York? to Iberville?to your father in Mississippi? where?""Just two steps away," laughed Edna, "in a little four-roomhouse around the corner. It looks so cozy, so inviting andrestful, whenever I pass by; and it's for rent. I'm tired lookingafter that big house. It never seemed like mine, anyway--likehome. It's too much trouble. I have to keep too many servants.I am tired bothering with them.""That is not your true reason, ma belle. There is no usein telling me lies. I don't know your reason, but you have nottold me the truth." Edna did not protest or endeavor to justifyherself."The house, the money that provides for it, are not mine.Isn't that enough reason?""They are your husband's," returned Mademoiselle, with a shrugand a malicious elevation of the eyebrows."Oh! I see there is no deceiving you. Then let me tell you:It is a caprice. I have a little money of my own from my mother'sestate, which my father sends me by driblets. I won a large sumthis winter on the races, and I am beginning to sell my sketches.Laidpore is more and more pleased with my work; he says it grows inforce and individuality. I cannot judge of that myself, but I feelthat I have gained in ease and confidence. However, as I said, Ihave sold a good many through Laidpore. I can live in the tinyhouse for little or nothing, with one servant. Old Celestine, whoworks occasionally for me, says she will come stay with me and domy work. I know I shall like it, like the feeling of freedom andindependence.""What does your husband say?""I have not told him yet. I only thought of it this morning.He will think I am demented, no doubt. Perhaps you think so."Mademoiselle shook her head slowly. "Your reason is not yetclear to me," she said.Neither was it quite clear to Edna herself; but it unfoldeditself as she sat for a while in silence. Instinct had promptedher to put away her husband's bounty in casting off her allegiance.She did not know how it would be when he returned. There wouldhave to be an understanding, an explanation. Conditions wouldsome way adjust themselves, she felt; but whatever came,she had resolved never again to belong to another than herself."I shall give a grand dinner before I leave the old house!"Edna exclaimed. "You will have to come to it, Mademoiselle.I will give you everything that you like to eat and to drink.We shall sing and laugh and be merry for once." And she uttereda sigh that came from the very depths of her being.If Mademoiselle happened to have received a letter from Robertduring the interval of Edna's visits, she would give her the letterunsolicited. And she would seat herself at the piano and play asher humor prompted her while the young woman read the letter.The little stove was roaring; it was red-hot, and thechocolate in the tin sizzled and sputtered. Edna went forward andopened the stove door, and Mademoiselle rising, took a letter fromunder the bust of Beethoven and handed it to Edna."Another! so soon!" she exclaimed, her eyes filled withdelight. "Tell me, Mademoiselle, does he know that I see hisletters?""Never in the world! He would be angry and would never writeto me again if he thought so. Does he write to you? Never a line.Does he send you a message? Never a word. It is because he lovesyou, poor fool, and is trying to forget you, since you are not freeto listen to him or to belong to him.""Why do you show me his letters, then?""Haven't you begged for them? Can I refuse you anything? Oh!you cannot deceive me," and Mademoiselle approached her belovedinstrument and began to play. Edna did not at once read theletter. She sat holding it in her hand, while the music penetratedher whole being like an effulgence, warming and brightening thedark places of her soul. It prepared her for joy and exultation."Oh!" she exclaimed, letting the letter fall to the floor."Why did you not tell me?" She went and grasped Mademoiselle's handsup from the keys. "Oh! unkind! malicious! Why did you not tell me?""That he was coming back? No great news, ma foi. I wonderhe did not come long ago.""But when, when?" cried Edna, impatiently. "He does not say when.""He says `very soon.' You know as much about it as I do; it isall in the letter.""But why? Why is he coming? Oh, if I thought--" and shesnatched the letter from the floor and turned the pages this wayand that way, looking for the reason, which was left untold."If I were young and in love with a man," said Mademoiselle,turning on the stool and pressing her wiry hands between her kneesas she looked down at Edna, who sat on the floor holding theletter, "it seems to me he would have to be some grand esprit;a man with lofty aims and ability to reach them; one who stood highenough to attract the notice of his fellow-men. It seems to me ifI were young and in love I should never deem a man of ordinarycaliber worthy of my devotion.""Now it is you who are telling lies and seeking to deceive me,Mademoiselle; or else you have never been in love, and know nothingabout it. Why," went on Edna, clasping her knees and looking upinto Mademoiselle's twisted face, "do you suppose a woman knows whyshe loves? Does she select? Does she say to herself: `Go to! Hereis a distinguished statesman with presidential possibilities; Ishall proceed to fall in love with him.' Or, `I shall set my heartupon this musician, whose fame is on every tongue?' Or, `Thisfinancier, who controls the world's money markets?'"You are purposely misunderstanding me, ma reine. Are youin love with Robert?""Yes," said Edna. It was the first time she had admitted it,and a glow overspread her face, blotching it with red spots."Why?" asked her companion. "Why do you love him when youought not to?"Edna, with a motion or two, dragged herself on her kneesbefore Mademoiselle Reisz, who took the glowing face between hertwo hands."Why? Because his hair is brown and grows away from histemples; because he opens and shuts his eyes, and his nose is alittle out of drawing; because he has two lips and a square chin,and a little finger which he can't straighten from having playedbaseball too energetically in his youth. Because--""Because you do, in short," laughed Mademoiselle. "What willyou do when he comes back?" she asked."Do? Nothing, except feel glad and happy to be alive."She was already glad and happy to be alive at the mere thoughtof his return. The murky, lowering sky, which had depressed her afew hours before, seemed bracing and invigorating as she splashedthrough the streets on her way home.She stopped at a confectioner's and ordered a huge box ofbonbons for the children in Iberville. She slipped a card in thebox, on which she scribbled a tender message and sent an abundanceof kisses.Before dinner in the evening Edna wrote a charming letter toher husband, telling him of her intention to move for a while intothe little house around the block, and to give a farewell dinnerbefore leaving, regretting that he was not there to share it, tohelp out with the menu and assist her in entertaining the guests.Her letter was brilliant and brimming with cheerfulness.