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coffee. This is the first time since I came back."

"She'll bring you a plate, and you will share my dinner.
There's always enough for two--even three." Edna had intended to be

indifferent and as reserved as he when she met him; she had reached
the determination by a laborious train of reasoning, incident to

one of her despondent moods. But her resolve melted when she saw
him before designing Providence had led him into her path.

"Why have you kept away from me, Robert?" she asked, closing
the book that lay open upon the table.

"Why are you so personal, Mrs. Pontellier? Why do you force me
to idiotic subterfuges?" he exclaimed with sudden warmth. "I

suppose there's no use telling you I've been very busy, or that
I've been sick, or that I've been to see you and not found you at

home. Please let me off with any one of these excuses."
"You are the embodiment of selfishness," she said. "You save

yourself something--I don't know what--but there is some selfish
motive, and in sparing yourself you never consider for a moment

what I think, or how I feel your neglect and indifference. I
suppose this is what you would call unwomanly; but I have got into

a habit of expressing myself. It doesn't matter to me, and you may
think me unwomanly if you like."

"No; I only think you cruel, as I said the other day. Maybe
not intentionally cruel; but you seem to be forcing me into

disclosures which can result in nothing; as if you would have me
bare a wound for the pleasure of looking at it, without the

intention or power of healing it."
"I'm spoiling your dinner, Robert; never mind what I say. You

haven't eaten a morsel."
"I only came in for a cup of coffee." His sensitive face was

all disfigured with excitement.
"Isn't this a delightful place?" she remarked. "I am so glad

it has never actually been discovered. It is so quiet, so sweet,
here. Do you notice there is scarcely a sound to be heard? It's so

out of the way; and a good walk from the car. However, I don't
mind walking. I always feel so sorry for women who don't like to

walk; they miss so much--so many rare little glimpses of life; and
we women learn so little of life on the whole.

"Catiche's coffee is always hot. I don't know how she
manages it, here in the open air. Celestine's coffee gets cold

bringing it from the kitchen to the dining-room. Three lumps!
How can you drink it so sweet? Take some of the cress with your chop;

it's so biting and crisp. Then there's the advantage of being able to
smoke with your coffee out here. Now, in the city--aren't you going to smoke?"

"After a while," he said, laying a cigar on the table.
"Who gave it to you?" she laughed.

"I bought it. I suppose I'm getting reckless; I bought a
whole box." She was determined not to be personal again and make

him uncomfortable.
The cat made friends with him, and climbed into his lap when

he smoked his cigar. He stroked her silky fur, and talked a little
about her. He looked at Edna's book, which he had read; and he

told her the end, to save her the trouble of wading through it, he
said.

Again he accompanied her back to her home; and it was after
dusk when they reached the little "pigeon-house." She did not ask

him to remain, which he was grateful for, as it permitted him to
stay without the discomfort of blundering through an excuse which

he had no intention of considering. He helped her to light the
lamp; then she went into her room to take off her hat and to bathe

her face and hands.
When she came back Robert was not examining the pictures and

magazines as before; he sat off in the shadow, leaning his head
back on the chair as if in a reverie. Edna lingered a moment

beside the table, arranging the books there. Then she went across
the room to where he sat. She bent over the arm of his chair and

called his name.
"Robert," she said, "are you asleep?"

"No," he answered, looking up at her.
She leaned over and kissed him--a soft, cool, delicate kiss,

whose voluptuous sting penetrated his whole being-then she moved
away from him. He followed, and took her in his arms, just holding

her close to him. She put her hand up to his face and pressed his
cheek against her own. The action was full of love and tenderness.

He sought her lips again. Then he drew her down upon the sofa
beside him and held her hand in both of his.

"Now you know," he said, "now you know what I have been
fighting against since last summer at Grand Isle; what drove me

away and drove me back again."
"Why have you been fighting against it?" she asked. Her face

glowed with soft lights.
"Why? Because you were not free; you were Leonce Pontellier's

wife. I couldn't help loving you if you were ten times his wife;
but so long as I went away from you and kept away I could help

telling you so." She put her free hand up to his shoulder, and then
against his cheek, rubbing it softly. He kissed her again. His

face was warm and flushed.
"There in Mexico I was thinking of you all the time, and

longing for you."
"But not writing to me," she interrupted.

"Something put into my head that you cared for me; and I lost
my senses. I forgot everything but a wild dream of your some way

becoming my wife."
"Your wife!"

"Religion, loyalty, everything would give way if only you cared."
"Then you must have forgotten that I was Leonce Pontellier's wife."

"Oh! I was demented, dreaming of wild, impossible things,
recalling men who had set their wives free,

we have heard of such things."
"Yes, we have heard of such things."

"I came back full of vague, mad intentions. And when I got here--"
"When you got here you never came near me!" She was still

caressing his cheek.
"I realized what a cur I was to dream of such a thing, even if

you had been willing."
She took his face between her hands and looked into it as if

she would never withdraw her eyes more. She kissed him on the
forehead, the eyes, the cheeks, and the lips.

"You have been a very, very foolish boy, wasting your time
dreaming of impossible things when you speak of Mr. Pontellier

setting me free! I am no longer one of Mr. Pontellier's possessions
to dispose of or not. I give myself where I choose. If he were to say,

'Here, Robert, take her and be happy; she is yours,' I should laugh
at you both."

His face grew a little white. "What do you mean?" he asked.
There was a knock at the door. Old Celestine came in to say

that Madame Ratignolle's servant had come around the back way with
a message that Madame had been taken sick and begged Mrs.

Pontellier to go to her immediately.
"Yes, yes," said Edna, rising; "I promised. Tell her yes--to

wait for me. I'll go back with her."
"Let me walk over with you," offered Robert.

"No," she said; "I will go with the servant. She went into
her room to put on her hat, and when she came in again she sat once

more upon the sofa beside him. He had not stirred. She put her
arms about his neck.

"Good-by, my sweet Robert. Tell me good-by." He kissed her
with a degree of passion which had not before entered into his

caress, and strained her to him.
"I love you," she whispered, "only you; no one but you. It

was you who awoke me last summer out of a life-long, stupid dream.
Oh! you have made me so unhappy with your indifference. Oh! I have

suffered, suffered! Now you are here we shall love each other, my
Robert. We shall be everything to each other. Nothing else in the

world is of any consequence. I must go to my friend; but you will
wait for me? No matter how late; you will wait for me, Robert?"

"Don't go; don't go! Oh! Edna, stay with me," he pleaded.
"Why should you go? Stay with me, stay with me."

"I shall come back as soon as I can; I shall find you here."
She buried her face in his neck, and said good-by again. Her

seductive voice, together with his great love for her, had
enthralled his senses, had deprived him of every impulse but the

longing to hold her and keep her.
XXXVII

Edna looked in at the drug store. Monsieur Ratignolle was
putting up a mixture himself, very carefully, dropping a red liquid

into a tiny glass. He was grateful to Edna for having come; her
presence would be a comfort to his wife. Madame Ratignolle's

sister, who had always been with her at such trying times, had not
been able to come up from the plantation, and Adele had been

inconsolable until Mrs. Pontellier so kindly promised to come to
her. The nurse had been with them at night for the past week, as

she lived a great distance away. And Dr. Mandelet had been coming
and going all the afternoon. They were then looking for him any

moment.
Edna hastened upstairs by a private stairway that led from the

rear of the store to the apartments above. The children were all
sleeping in a back room. Madame Ratignolle was in the salon,

whither she had strayed in her sufferingpatience" target="_blank" title="n.不耐烦,急躁">impatience. She sat on
the sofa, clad in an ample white peignoir, holding a

handkerchief tight in her hand with a nervousclutch. Her face was
drawn and pinched, her sweet blue eyes haggard and unnatural. All

her beautiful hair had been drawn back and plaited. It lay in a
long braid on the sofa pillow, coiled like a golden serpent. The

nurse, a comfortable looking Griffe woman in white apron and
cap, was urging her to return to her bedroom.

"There is no use, there is no use," she said at once to Edna.
"We must get rid of Mandelet; he is getting too old and careless.

He said he would be here at half-past seven; now it must be eight.
See what time it is, Josephine."

The woman was possessed of a cheerful nature, and refused
to take any situation too seriously, especially a situation

withwhich she was so familiar. She urged Madame to have
courage and patience. But Madame only set her teeth hard

into her under lip, and Edna saw the sweat gather in beads
on her white forehead. After a moment or two she uttered

a profound sigh and wiped her face with the handkerchief
rolled in a ball. She appeared exhausted. The nurse gave her

a fresh handkerchief, sprinkled with cologne water.
"This is too much!" she cried. "Mandelet ought to be killed!

Where is Alphonse? Is it possible I am to be abandoned like
this-neglected by every one?"

"Neglected, indeed!" exclaimed the nurse. Wasn't she there?
And here was Mrs. Pontellier leaving, no doubt, a pleasant evening

at home to devote to her? And wasn't Monsieur Ratignolle coming
that very instant through the hall? And Josephine was quite sure

she had heard Doctor Mandelet's coupe. Yes, there it was,
down at the door.

Adele consented to go back to her room. She sat on the edge
of a little low couch next to her bed.

Doctor Mandelet paid no attention to Madame Ratignolle's
upbraidings. He was accustomed to them at such times, and was too

well convinced of her loyalty to doubt it.
He was glad to see Edna, and wanted her to go with him into

the salon and entertain him. But Madame Ratignolle would not
consent that Edna should leave her for an instant. Between

agonizing moments, she chatted a little, and said it took her mind
off her sufferings.

Edna began to feel uneasy. She was seized with a vague dread.
Her own like experiences seemed far away, unreal, and only half

remembered. She recalled faintly an ecstasy of pain, the heavy
odor of chloroform, a stupor which had deadened sensation, and an



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