looking. And what stories they had to tell their mother! About the
pigs, the cows, the mules! About riding to the mill behind Gluglu;
fishing back in the lake with their Uncle Jasper; picking pecans
with Lidie's little black brood, and hauling chips in their express
wagon. It was a thousand times more fun to haul real chips for old
lame Susie's real fire than to drag painted blocks along the
banquette on Esplanade Street!
She went with them herself to see the pigs and the cows, to
look at the darkies laying the cane, to
thrash the pecan trees, and
catch fish in the back lake. She lived with them a whole week
long, giving them all of herself, and
gathering and filling herself
with their young
existence. They listened,
breathless, when she
told them the house in Esplanade Street was
crowded with workmen,
hammering, nailing, sawing, and filling the place with clatter.
They wanted. to know where their bed was; what had been done with
their rocking-horse; and where did Joe sleep, and where had Ellen
gone, and the cook? But, above all, they were fired with a desire
to see the little house around the block. Was there any place to
play? Were there any boys next door? Raoul, with pessimistic
foreboding, was convinced that there were only girls next door.
Where would they sleep, and where would papa sleep? She told them
the fairies would fix it all right.
The old Madame was charmed with Edna's visit, and showered all
manner of
delicate attentions upon her. She was
delighted to know
that the Esplanade Street house was in a dismantled condition. It
gave her the promise and pretext to keep the children indefinitely.
It was with a
wrench and a pang that Edna left her children.
She carried away with her the sound of their voices and
the touch of their cheeks. All along the journey
homeward their
presence lingered with her like the memory of a
delicious song.
But by the time she had regained the city the song no longer echoed
in her soul. She was again alone.
XXXIII
It happened sometimes when Edna went to see Mademoiselle Reisz
that the little
musician was
absent, giving a lesson or making some
small necessary household purchase. The key was always left in a
secret hiding-place in the entry, which Edna knew. If Mademoiselle
happened to be away, Edna would usually enter and wait for her
return.
When she knocked at Mademoiselle Reisz's door one afternoon
there was no
response; so unlocking the door, as usual, she entered
and found the
apartment deserted, as she had expected. Her day had
been quite filled up, and it was for a rest, for a
refuge, and to
talk about Robert, that she sought out her friend.
She had worked at her canvas--a young Italian character
study--all the morning, completing the work without the model; but
there had been many interruptions, some
incident to her modest
housekeeping, and others of a social nature.
Madame Ratignolle had dragged herself over, avoiding the too
public thoroughfares, she said. She complained that Edna had
neglected her much of late. Besides, she was consumed with
curiosity to see the little house and the manner in which it was
conducted. She wanted to hear all about the dinner party; Monsieur
Ratignolle 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 hour
of trial
overtook her.
"At any time--any time of the day or night, dear," Edna
assured her.
Before leaving Madame Ratignolle said:
"In some way you seem to me like a child, Edna. You seem to
act without a certain
amount of
reflection which is necessary in
this life. That is the reason I want to say you mustn't mind if I
advise 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't
Mademoiselle Reisz come?"
"No; she wouldn't wish to come, and I shouldn't want her
always with me."
"Well, the reason--you know how evil-minded the world is--some
one was talking of Alcee Arobin visiting you. Of course, it
wouldn't matter if Mr. Arobin had not such a
dreadful reputation.
Monsieur Ratignolle was telling me that his attentions alone are
considered enough to ruin a woman s name."
"Does he boast of his successes?" asked Edna,
indifferently,