Chapter XXXIII

by Kate Chopin

　　It happened sometimes when Edna went to see Mademoiselle Reiszthat the little musician was absent, giving a lesson or making somesmall necessary household purchase. The key was always left in asecret hiding-place in the entry, which Edna knew. If Mademoisellehappened to be away, Edna would usually enter and wait for herreturn.When she knocked at Mademoiselle Reisz's door one afternoonthere was no response; so unlocking the door, as usual, she enteredand found the apartment deserted, as she had expected. Her day hadbeen quite filled up, and it was for a rest, for a refuge, and totalk about Robert, that she sought out her friend.She had worked at her canvas--a young Italian characterstudy--all the morning, completing the work without the model; butthere had been many interruptions, some incident to her modesthousekeeping, and others of a social nature.Madame Ratignolle had dragged herself over, avoiding the toopublic thoroughfares, she said. She complained that Edna hadneglected her much of late. Besides, she was consumed withcuriosity to see the little house and the manner in which it wasconducted. She wanted to hear all about the dinner party; MonsieurRatignolle had left so early. What had happened after he left?The champagne and grapes which Edna sent over were too delicious.She had so little appetite; they had refreshed and toned her stomach.Where on earth was she going to put Mr. Pontellier in that little house,and the boys? And then she made Edna promise to go to her when her hourof trial overtook her."At any time--any time of the day or night, dear," Ednaassured her.Before leaving Madame Ratignolle said:"In some way you seem to me like a child, Edna. You seem toact without a certain amount of reflection which is necessary inthis life. That is the reason I want to say you mustn't mind if Iadvise you to be a little careful while you are living here alone.Why don't you have some one come and stay with you? Wouldn'tMademoiselle Reisz come?""No; she wouldn't wish to come, and I shouldn't want heralways with me.""Well, the reason--you know how evil-minded the world is--someone was talking of Alcee Arobin visiting you. Of course, itwouldn't matter if Mr. Arobin had not such a dreadful reputation.Monsieur Ratignolle was telling me that his attentions alone areconsidered enough to ruin a woman s name.""Does he boast of his successes?" asked Edna, indifferently,squinting at her picture."No, I think not. I believe he is a decent fellow as far asthat goes. But his character is so well known among the men. Ishan't be able to come back and see you; it was very, veryimprudent to-day.""Mind the step!" cried Edna."Don't neglect me," entreated Madame Ratignolle; "and don'tmind what I said about Arobin, or having some one to stay with you."Of course not," Edna laughed. "You may say anything you liketo me." They kissed each other good-by. Madame Ratignolle had notfar to go, and Edna stood on the porch a while watching her walkdown the street.Then in the afternoon Mrs. Merriman and Mrs. Highcamp had madetheir "party call." Edna felt that they might have dispensedwith the formality. They had also come to invite her to playvingt-et-un one evening at Mrs. Merriman's. She was asked to go early,to dinner, and Mr. Merriman or Mr. Arobin would take her home.Edna accepted in a half-hearted way. She sometimes felt very tiredof Mrs. Highcamp and Mrs. Merriman.Late in the afternoon she sought refuge with MademoiselleReisz, and stayed there alone, waiting for her, feeling a kind ofrepose invade her with the very atmosphere of the shabby,unpretentious little room.Edna sat at the window, which looked out over the house-topsand across the river. The window frame was filled with pots offlowers, and she sat and picked the dry leaves from a rosegeranium. The day was warm, and the breeze which blew from theriver was very pleasant. She removed her hat and laid it on thepiano. She went on picking the leaves and digging around theplants with her hat pin. Once she thought she heard MademoiselleReisz approaching. But it was a young black girl, who came in,bringing a small bundle of laundry, which she deposited in theadjoining room, and went away.Edna seated herself at the piano, and softly picked out withone hand the bars of a piece of music which lay open before her.A half-hour went by. There was the occasional sound of peoplegoing and coming in the lower hall. She was growing interested inher occupation of picking out the aria, when there was a second rapat the door. She vaguely wondered what these people did when theyfound Mademoiselle's door locked."Come in," she called, turning her face toward the door. Andthis time it was Robert Lebrun who presented himself. Sheattempted to rise; she could not have done so without betraying theagitation which mastered her at sight of him, so she fell back uponthe stool, only exclaiming, "Why, Robert!"He came and clasped her hand, seemingly without knowing whathe was saying or doing."Mrs. Pontellier! How do you happen--oh! how well you look!Is Mademoiselle Reisz not here? I never expected to see you.""When did you come back?" asked Edna in an unsteady voice,wiping her face with her handkerchief. She seemed ill at ease onthe piano stool, and he begged her to take the chair by the window.She did so, mechanically, while he seated himself on the stool."I returned day before yesterday," he answered, while heleaned his arm on the keys, bringing forth a crash of discordantsound."Day before yesterday!" she repeated, aloud; and went onthinking to herself, "day before yesterday," in a sort of anuncomprehending way. She had pictured him seeking her at the veryfirst hour, and he had lived under the same sky since day beforeyesterday; while only by accident had he stumbled upon her.Mademoiselle must have lied when she said, "Poor fool, he lovesyou.""Day before yesterday," she repeated, breaking off a spray ofMademoiselle's geranium; "then if you had not met me here to-dayyou wouldn't--when--that is, didn't you mean to come and see me?""Of course, I should have gone to see you. There have been somany things--" he turned the leaves of Mademoiselle's musicnervously. "I started in at once yesterday with the old firm.After all there is as much chance for me here as there wasthere--that is, I might find it profitable some day. The Mexicans werenot very congenial."So he had come back because the Mexicans were not congenial;because business was as profitable here as there; because of anyreason, and not because he cared to be near her. She rememberedthe day she sat on the floor, turning the pages of his letter,seeking the reason which was left untold.She had not noticed how he looked--only feeling his presence;but she turned deliberately and observed him. After all, he hadbeen absent but a few months, and was not changed. His hair--thecolor of hers--waved back from his temples in the same way asbefore. His skin was not more burned than it had been at Grand Isle.She found in his eyes, when he looked at her for one silent moment,the same tender caress, with an added warmth and entreaty which hadnot been there before the same glance which had penetrated to thesleeping places of her soul and awakened them.A hundred times Edna had pictured Robert's return, andimagined their first meeting. It was usually at her home, whitherhe had sought her out at once. She always fancied him expressingor betraying in some way his love for her. And here, the realitywas that they sat ten feet apart, she at the window, crushinggeranium leaves in her hand and smelling them, he twirling aroundon the piano stool, saying:"I was very much surprised to hear of Mr. Pontellier'sabsence; it's a wonder Mademoiselle Reisz did not tell me; and yourmoving--mother told me yesterday. I should think you would havegone to New York with him, or to Iberville with the children,rather than be bothered here with housekeeping. And you are goingabroad, too, I hear. We shan't have you at Grand Isle next summer;it won't seem--do you see much of Mademoiselle Reisz? She oftenspoke of you in the few letters she wrote.""Do you remember that you promised to write to me when youwent away?" A flush overspread his whole face."I couldn't believe that my letters would be of any interestto you.""That is an excuse; it isn't the truth." Edna reached for herhat on the piano. She adjusted it, sticking the hat pin throughthe heavy coil of hair with some deliberation."Are you not going to wait for Mademoiselle Reisz?" askedRobert."No; I have found when she is absent this long, she is liablenot to come back till late." She drew on her gloves, and Robertpicked up his hat."Won't you wait for her?" asked Edna."Not if you think she will not be back till late," adding, asif suddenly aware of some discourtesy in his speech, "and I shouldmiss the pleasure of walking home with you." Edna locked the doorand put the key back in its hiding-place.They went together, picking their way across muddy streets andsidewalks encumbered with the cheap display of small tradesmen.Part of the distance they rode in the car, and after disembarking,passed the Pontellier mansion, which looked broken and half tornasunder. Robert had never known the house, and looked at it withinterest."I never knew you in your home," he remarked."I am glad you did not.""Why?" She did not answer. They went on around the corner,and it seemed as if her dreams were coming true after all, when hefollowed her into the little house."You must stay and dine with me, Robert. You see I am allalone, and it is so long since I have seen you. There is so muchI want to ask you."She took off her hat and gloves. He stood irresolute, makingsome excuse about his mother who expected him; he even mutteredsomething about an engagement. She struck a match and lit the lampon the table; it was growing dusk. When he saw her face in thelamp-light, looking pained, with all the soft lines gone out of it,he threw his hat aside and seated himself."Oh! you know I want to stay if you will let me!" heexclaimed. All the softness came back. She laughed, and went andput her hand on his shoulder."This is the first moment you have seemed like the old Robert.I'll go tell Celestine." She hurried away to tell Celestine to setan extra place. She even sent her off in search of some addeddelicacy which she had not thought of for herself. And sherecommended great care in dripping the coffee and having the omeletdone to a proper turn.When she reentered, Robert was turning over magazines,sketches, and things that lay upon the table in great disorder. Hepicked up a photograph, and exclaimed:"Alcee Arobin! What on earth is his picture doing here?""I tried to make a sketch of his head one day," answered Edna,"and he thought the photograph might help me. It was at the other house.I thought it had been left there. I must have packed it up withmy drawing materials.""I should think you would give it back to him if you have finished with it.""Oh! I have a great many such photographs. I never think of returning them.They don't amount to anything." Robert kept on looking at the picture."It seems to me--do you think his head worth drawing?Is he a friend of Mr. Pontellier's? You never said you knew him.""He isn't a friend of Mr. Pontellier's; he's a friend of mine.I always knew him--that is, it is only of late that I know himpretty well. But I'd rather talk about you, and know what you havebeen seeing and doing and feeling out there in Mexico." Robertthrew aside the picture."I've been seeing the waves and the white beach of Grand Isle;the quiet, grassy street of the Cheniere; the old fort atGrande Terre. I've been working like a machine, and feeling likea lost soul. There was nothing interesting."She leaned her head upon her hand to shade her eyesfrom the light."And what have you been seeing and doing and feelingall these days?" he asked."I've been seeing the waves and the white beach of Grand Isle;the quiet, grassy street of the Cheniere Caminada; the oldsunny fort at Grande Terre. I've been working with a little morecomprehension than a machine, and still feeling like a lost soul.There was nothing interesting.""Mrs. Pontellier, you are cruel," he said, with feeling,closing his eyes and resting his head back in his chair. Theyremained in silence till old Celestine announced dinner.