READ STUDY GUIDE: Chapters VI–IX |
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Part VIII
| "Do me a favor, Robert," spoke the pretty woman at his side, |
| almost as soon as she and Robert had started their slow, homeward |
| way. She looked up in his face, leaning on his arm beneath the |
| encircling shadow of the umbrella which he had lifted. |
| "Granted; as many as you like," he returned, glancing down |
| into her eyes that were full of thoughtfulness and some |
| speculation. |
| "I only ask for one; let Mrs. Pontellier alone." |
| "Tiens!" he exclaimed, with a sudden, boyish laugh. |
| "Voila que Madame Ratignolle est jalouse!" |
| "Nonsense! I'm in earnest; I mean what I say. Let Mrs. |
| Pontellier alone." |
| "Why?" he asked; himself growing serious at his companion's |
| solicitation. |
| "She is not one of us; she is not like us. She might make the |
| unfortunate blunder of taking you seriously." |
| His face flushed with annoyance, and taking off his soft hat |
| he began to beat it impatiently against his leg as he walked. "Why |
| shouldn't she take me seriously?" he demanded sharply. "Am I a |
| comedian, a clown, a jack-in-the-box? Why shouldn't she? You |
| Creoles! I have no patience with you! Am I always to be regarded as |
| a feature of an amusing programme? I hope Mrs. Pontellier does take |
| me seriously. I hope she has discernment enough to find in me |
| something besides the blagueur. If I thought there was any doubt—" |
| "Oh, enough, Robert!" she broke into his heated outburst. |
| "You are not thinking of what you are saying. You speak with about |
| as little reflection as we might expect from one of those children |
| down there playing in the sand. If your attentions to any married |
| women here were ever offered with any intention of being |
| convincing, you would not be the gentleman we all know you to be, |
| and you would be unfit to associate with the wives and daughters of |
| the people who trust you." |
| Madame Ratignolle had spoken what she believed to be the law |
| and the gospel. The young man shrugged his shoulders impatiently. |
| "Oh! well! That isn't it," slamming his hat down vehemently |
| upon his head. "You ought to feel that such things are not |
| flattering to say to a fellow." |
| "Should our whole intercourse consist of an exchange of |
| compliments? Ma foi!" |
| "It isn't pleasant to have a woman tell you—" he went on, |
| unheedingly, but breaking off suddenly: "Now if I were like |
| Arobin-you remember Alcee Arobin and that story of the consul's wife at |
| Biloxi?" And he related the story of Alcee Arobin and the consul's |
| wife; and another about the tenor of the French Opera, who received |
| letters which should never have been written; and still other stories, |
| grave and gay, till Mrs. Pontellier and her possible propensity for |
| taking young men seriously was apparently forgotten. |
| Madame Ratignolle, when they had regained her cottage, went in |
| to take the hour's rest which she considered helpful. Before |
| leaving her, Robert begged her pardon for the impatience—he called |
| it rudeness—with which he had received her well-meant caution. |
| "You made one mistake, Adele," he said, with a light smile; |
| "there is no earthly possibility of Mrs. Pontellier ever taking me |
| seriously. You should have warned me against taking myself |
| seriously. Your advice might then have carried some weight and |
| given me subject for some reflection. Au revoir. But you look |
| tired," he added, solicitously. "Would you like a cup of bouillon? |
| Shall I stir you a toddy? Let me mix you a toddy with a drop of |
| Angostura." |
| She acceded to the suggestion of bouillon, which was grateful |
| and acceptable. He went himself to the kitchen, which was a |
| building apart from the cottages and lying to the rear of the |
| house. And he himself brought her the golden-brown bouillon, in a |
| dainty Sevres cup, with a flaky cracker or two on the saucer. |
| She thrust a bare, white arm from the curtain which shielded |
| her open door, and received the cup from his hands. She told him |
| he was a bon garcon, and she meant it. Robert thanked her and |
| turned away toward "the house." |
| The lovers were just entering the grounds of the pension. |
| They were leaning toward each other as the wateroaks bent from the |
| sea. There was not a particle of earth beneath their feet. Their |
| heads might have been turned upside-down, so absolutely did they |
| tread upon blue ether. The lady in black, creeping behind them, |
| looked a trifle paler and more jaded than usual. There was no sign |
| of Mrs. Pontellier and the children. Robert scanned the distance |
| for any such apparition. They would doubtless remain away till the |
| dinner hour. The young man ascended to his mother's room. It was |
| situated at the top of the house, made up of odd angles and a queer, |
| sloping ceiling. Two broad dormer windows looked out toward the Gulf, |
| and as far across it as a man's eye might reach. The furnishings |
| of the room were light, cool, and practical. |
| Madame Lebrun was busily engaged at the sewing-machine. A |
| little black girl sat on the floor, and with her hands worked the |
| treadle of the machine. The Creole woman does not take any chances |
| which may be avoided of imperiling her health. |
| Robert went over and seated himself on the broad sill of one |
| of the dormer windows. He took a book from his pocket and began |
| energetically to read it, judging by the precision and frequency |
| with which he turned the leaves. The sewing-machine made a |
| resounding clatter in the room; it was of a ponderous, by-gone |
| make. In the lulls, Robert and his mother exchanged bits of |
| desultory conversation. |
| "Where is Mrs. Pontellier?" |
| "Down at the beach with the children." |
| "I promised to lend her the Goncourt. Don't forget to take it |
| down when you go; it's there on the bookshelf over the small |
| table." Clatter, clatter, clatter, bang! for the next five or eight |
| minutes. |
| "Where is Victor going with the rockaway?" |
| "The rockaway? Victor?" |
| "Yes; down there in front. He seems to be getting ready to |
| drive away somewhere." |
| "Call him." Clatter, clatter! |
| Robert uttered a shrill, piercing whistle which might have |
| been heard back at the wharf. |
| "He won't look up." |
| Madame Lebrun flew to the window. She called "Victor!" She |
| waved a handkerchief and called again. The young fellow below got |
| into the vehicle and started the horse off at a gallop. |
| Madame Lebrun went back to the machine, crimson with |
| annoyance. Victor was the younger son and brother—a tete |
| montee, with a temper which invited violence and a will which no |
| ax could break. |
| "Whenever you say the word I'm ready to thrash any amount of |
| reason into him that he's able to hold." |
| "If your father had only lived!" Clatter, clatter, clatter, |
| clatter, bang! It was a fixed belief with Madame Lebrun that the |
| conduct of the universe and all things pertaining thereto would |
| have been manifestly of a more intelligent and higher order had not |
| Monsieur Lebrun been removed to other spheres during the early |
| years of their married life. |
| "What do you hear from Montel?" Montel was a middleaged |
| gentleman whose vain ambition and desire for the past twenty years |
| had been to fill the void which Monsieur Lebrun's taking off had |
| left in the Lebrun household. Clatter, clatter, bang, clatter! |
| "I have a letter somewhere," looking in the machine drawer |
| and finding the letter in the bottom of the workbasket. |
| "He says to tell you he will be in Vera Cruz the beginning of |
| next month,"—clatter, clatter!—"and if you still have |
| the intention of joining him"—bang! clatter, clatter, bang! |
| "Why didn't you tell me so before, mother? You know I |
| wanted—"Clatter, clatter, clatter! |
| "Do you see Mrs. Pontellier starting back with the children? |
| She will be in late to luncheon again. She never starts to get |
| ready for luncheon till the last minute." Clatter, clatter! |
| "Where are you going?" |
| "Where did you say the Goncourt was?" |
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