{"id":108,"date":"2021-05-18T11:05:07","date_gmt":"2021-05-18T15:05:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/awakening\/?post_type=chapter&p=108"},"modified":"2022-02-01T11:18:53","modified_gmt":"2022-02-01T16:18:53","slug":"22","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/chapter\/22\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter XXII","rendered":"Chapter XXII"},"content":{"raw":"One morning on his way into town Mr. Pontellier stopped at the house of his old friend and family physician, Doctor Mandelet. The Doctor was a semi-retired physician, resting, as the saying is, upon his laurels. He bore a reputation for wisdom rather than skill\u2014leaving the active practice of medicine to his assistants and younger contemporaries\u2014and was much sought for in matters of consultation. A few families, united to him by bonds of friendship, he still attended when they required the services of a physician. The Pontelliers were among these.\r\n\r\nMr. Pontellier found the Doctor reading at the open window of his study. His house stood rather far back from the street, in the center of a delightful garden, so that it was quiet and peaceful at the old gentleman\u2019s study window. He was a great reader. He stared up disapprovingly over his eye-glasses as Mr. Pontellier entered, wondering who had the temerity to disturb him at that hour of the morning.\r\n\r\n\u201cAh, Pontellier! Not sick, I hope. Come and have a seat. What news do you bring this morning?\u201d He was quite portly, with a profusion of gray hair, and small blue eyes which age had robbed of much of their brightness but none of their penetration.\r\n\r\n\u201cOh! I\u2019m never sick, Doctor. You know that I come of tough fiber\u2014of that old Creole race of Pontelliers that dry up and finally blow away. I came to consult\u2014no, not precisely to consult\u2014to talk to you about Edna. I don\u2019t know what ails her.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMadame Pontellier not well,\u201d marveled the Doctor. \u201cWhy, I saw her\u2014I think it was a week ago\u2014walking along Canal Street, the picture of health, it seemed to me.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYes, yes; she seems quite well,\u201d said Mr. Pontellier, leaning forward and whirling his stick between his two hands; \u201cbut she doesn\u2019t act well. She\u2019s odd, she\u2019s not like herself. I can\u2019t make her out, and I thought perhaps you\u2019d help me.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHow does she act?\u201d inquired the Doctor.\r\n\r\n\u201cWell, it isn\u2019t easy to explain,\u201d said Mr. Pontellier, throwing himself back in his chair. \u201cShe lets the housekeeping go to the dickens.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell, well; women are not all alike, my dear Pontellier. We\u2019ve got to consider\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI know that; I told you I couldn\u2019t explain. Her whole attitude\u2014toward me and everybody and everything\u2014has changed. You know I have a quick temper, but I don\u2019t want to quarrel or be rude to a woman, especially my wife; yet I\u2019m driven to it, and feel like ten thousand devils after I\u2019ve made a fool of myself. She\u2019s making it devilishly uncomfortable for me,\u201d he went on nervously. \u201cShe\u2019s got some sort of notion in her head concerning the eternal rights of women; and\u2014you understand\u2014we meet in the morning at the breakfast table.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old gentleman lifted his shaggy eyebrows, protruded his thick nether lip, and tapped the arms of his chair with his cushioned fingertips.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat have you been doing to her, Pontellier?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDoing! Parbleu!<\/i>\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHas she,\u201d asked the Doctor, with a smile, \u201chas she been associating of late with a circle of pseudo-intellectual women\u2014super-spiritual superior beings? My wife has been telling me about them.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThat\u2019s the trouble,\u201d broke in Mr. Pontellier, \u201cshe hasn\u2019t been associating with any one. She has abandoned her Tuesdays at home, has thrown over all her acquaintances, and goes tramping about by herself, moping in the street-cars, getting in after dark. I tell you she\u2019s peculiar. I don\u2019t like it; I feel a little worried over it.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis was a new aspect for the Doctor. \u201cNothing hereditary?\u201d he asked, seriously. \u201cNothing peculiar about her family antecedents, is there?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cOh, no, indeed! She comes of sound old Presbyterian Kentucky stock. The old gentleman, her father, I have heard, used to atone for his weekday sins with his Sunday devotions. I know for a fact, that his race horses literally ran away with the prettiest bit of Kentucky farming land I ever laid eyes upon. Margaret\u2014you know Margaret\u2014she has all the Presbyterianism undiluted. And the youngest is something of a vixen. By the way, she gets married in a couple of weeks from now.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSend your wife up to the wedding,\u201d exclaimed the Doctor, foreseeing a happy solution. \u201cLet her stay among her own people for a while; it will do her good.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I want her to do. She won\u2019t go to the marriage. She says a wedding is one of the most lamentable spectacles on earth. Nice thing for a woman to say to her husband!\u201d exclaimed Mr. Pontellier, fuming anew at the recollection.\r\n\r\n\u201cPontellier,\u201d said the Doctor, after a moment\u2019s reflection, \u201clet your wife alone for a while. Don\u2019t bother her, and don\u2019t let her bother you. Woman, my dear friend, is a very peculiar and delicate organism\u2014a sensitive and highly organized woman, such as I know Mrs. Pontellier to be, is especially peculiar. It would require an inspired psychologist to deal successfully with them. And when ordinary fellows like you and me attempt to cope with their idiosyncrasies the result is bungling. Most women are moody and whimsical. This is some passing whim of your wife, due to some cause or causes which you and I needn\u2019t try to fathom. But it will pass happily over, especially if you let her alone. Send her around to see me.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cOh! I couldn\u2019t do that; there\u2019d be no reason for it,\u201d objected Mr. Pontellier.\r\n\r\n\u201cThen I\u2019ll go around and see her,\u201d said the Doctor. \u201cI\u2019ll drop in to dinner some evening en bon ami<\/i>.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDo! by all means,\u201d urged Mr. Pontellier. \u201cWhat evening will you come? Say Thursday. Will you come Thursday?\u201d he asked, rising to take his leave.\r\n\r\n\u201cVery well; Thursday. My wife may possibly have some engagement for me Thursday. In case she has, I shall let you know. Otherwise, you may expect me.\u201d\r\n\r\nMr. Pontellier turned before leaving to say:\r\n\r\n\u201cI am going to New York on business very soon. I have a big scheme on hand, and want to be on the field proper to pull the ropes and handle the ribbons. We\u2019ll let you in on the inside if you say so, Doctor,\u201d he laughed.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, I thank you, my dear sir,\u201d returned the Doctor. \u201cI leave such ventures to you younger men with the fever of life still in your blood.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat I wanted to say,\u201d continued Mr. Pontellier, with his hand on the knob; \u201cI may have to be absent a good while. Would you advise me to take Edna along?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBy all means, if she wishes to go. If not, leave her here. Don\u2019t contradict her. The mood will pass, I assure you. It may take a month, two, three months\u2014possibly longer, but it will pass; have patience.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell, good-by, \u00e0 jeudi<\/i>,\u201d said Mr. Pontellier, as he let himself out.\r\n\r\nThe Doctor would have liked during the course of conversation to ask, \u201cIs there any man in the case?\u201d but he knew his Creole too well to make such a blunder as that.\r\n\r\nHe did not resume his book immediately, but sat for a while meditatively looking out into the garden.","rendered":"

One morning on his way into town Mr. Pontellier stopped at the house of his old friend and family physician, Doctor Mandelet. The Doctor was a semi-retired physician, resting, as the saying is, upon his laurels. He bore a reputation for wisdom rather than skill\u2014leaving the active practice of medicine to his assistants and younger contemporaries\u2014and was much sought for in matters of consultation. A few families, united to him by bonds of friendship, he still attended when they required the services of a physician. The Pontelliers were among these.<\/p>\n

Mr. Pontellier found the Doctor reading at the open window of his study. His house stood rather far back from the street, in the center of a delightful garden, so that it was quiet and peaceful at the old gentleman\u2019s study window. He was a great reader. He stared up disapprovingly over his eye-glasses as Mr. Pontellier entered, wondering who had the temerity to disturb him at that hour of the morning.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, Pontellier! Not sick, I hope. Come and have a seat. What news do you bring this morning?\u201d He was quite portly, with a profusion of gray hair, and small blue eyes which age had robbed of much of their brightness but none of their penetration.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh! I\u2019m never sick, Doctor. You know that I come of tough fiber\u2014of that old Creole race of Pontelliers that dry up and finally blow away. I came to consult\u2014no, not precisely to consult\u2014to talk to you about Edna. I don\u2019t know what ails her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMadame Pontellier not well,\u201d marveled the Doctor. \u201cWhy, I saw her\u2014I think it was a week ago\u2014walking along Canal Street, the picture of health, it seemed to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, yes; she seems quite well,\u201d said Mr. Pontellier, leaning forward and whirling his stick between his two hands; \u201cbut she doesn\u2019t act well. She\u2019s odd, she\u2019s not like herself. I can\u2019t make her out, and I thought perhaps you\u2019d help me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow does she act?\u201d inquired the Doctor.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it isn\u2019t easy to explain,\u201d said Mr. Pontellier, throwing himself back in his chair. \u201cShe lets the housekeeping go to the dickens.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, well; women are not all alike, my dear Pontellier. We\u2019ve got to consider\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know that; I told you I couldn\u2019t explain. Her whole attitude\u2014toward me and everybody and everything\u2014has changed. You know I have a quick temper, but I don\u2019t want to quarrel or be rude to a woman, especially my wife; yet I\u2019m driven to it, and feel like ten thousand devils after I\u2019ve made a fool of myself. She\u2019s making it devilishly uncomfortable for me,\u201d he went on nervously. \u201cShe\u2019s got some sort of notion in her head concerning the eternal rights of women; and\u2014you understand\u2014we meet in the morning at the breakfast table.\u201d<\/p>\n

The old gentleman lifted his shaggy eyebrows, protruded his thick nether lip, and tapped the arms of his chair with his cushioned fingertips.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat have you been doing to her, Pontellier?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoing! Parbleu!<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHas she,\u201d asked the Doctor, with a smile, \u201chas she been associating of late with a circle of pseudo-intellectual women\u2014super-spiritual superior beings? My wife has been telling me about them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s the trouble,\u201d broke in Mr. Pontellier, \u201cshe hasn\u2019t been associating with any one. She has abandoned her Tuesdays at home, has thrown over all her acquaintances, and goes tramping about by herself, moping in the street-cars, getting in after dark. I tell you she\u2019s peculiar. I don\u2019t like it; I feel a little worried over it.\u201d<\/p>\n

This was a new aspect for the Doctor. \u201cNothing hereditary?\u201d he asked, seriously. \u201cNothing peculiar about her family antecedents, is there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no, indeed! She comes of sound old Presbyterian Kentucky stock. The old gentleman, her father, I have heard, used to atone for his weekday sins with his Sunday devotions. I know for a fact, that his race horses literally ran away with the prettiest bit of Kentucky farming land I ever laid eyes upon. Margaret\u2014you know Margaret\u2014she has all the Presbyterianism undiluted. And the youngest is something of a vixen. By the way, she gets married in a couple of weeks from now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSend your wife up to the wedding,\u201d exclaimed the Doctor, foreseeing a happy solution. \u201cLet her stay among her own people for a while; it will do her good.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I want her to do. She won\u2019t go to the marriage. She says a wedding is one of the most lamentable spectacles on earth. Nice thing for a woman to say to her husband!\u201d exclaimed Mr. Pontellier, fuming anew at the recollection.<\/p>\n

\u201cPontellier,\u201d said the Doctor, after a moment\u2019s reflection, \u201clet your wife alone for a while. Don\u2019t bother her, and don\u2019t let her bother you. Woman, my dear friend, is a very peculiar and delicate organism\u2014a sensitive and highly organized woman, such as I know Mrs. Pontellier to be, is especially peculiar. It would require an inspired psychologist to deal successfully with them. And when ordinary fellows like you and me attempt to cope with their idiosyncrasies the result is bungling. Most women are moody and whimsical. This is some passing whim of your wife, due to some cause or causes which you and I needn\u2019t try to fathom. But it will pass happily over, especially if you let her alone. Send her around to see me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh! I couldn\u2019t do that; there\u2019d be no reason for it,\u201d objected Mr. Pontellier.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen I\u2019ll go around and see her,\u201d said the Doctor. \u201cI\u2019ll drop in to dinner some evening en bon ami<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo! by all means,\u201d urged Mr. Pontellier. \u201cWhat evening will you come? Say Thursday. Will you come Thursday?\u201d he asked, rising to take his leave.<\/p>\n

\u201cVery well; Thursday. My wife may possibly have some engagement for me Thursday. In case she has, I shall let you know. Otherwise, you may expect me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Pontellier turned before leaving to say:<\/p>\n

\u201cI am going to New York on business very soon. I have a big scheme on hand, and want to be on the field proper to pull the ropes and handle the ribbons. We\u2019ll let you in on the inside if you say so, Doctor,\u201d he laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I thank you, my dear sir,\u201d returned the Doctor. \u201cI leave such ventures to you younger men with the fever of life still in your blood.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat I wanted to say,\u201d continued Mr. Pontellier, with his hand on the knob; \u201cI may have to be absent a good while. Would you advise me to take Edna along?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBy all means, if she wishes to go. If not, leave her here. Don\u2019t contradict her. The mood will pass, I assure you. It may take a month, two, three months\u2014possibly longer, but it will pass; have patience.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, good-by, \u00e0 jeudi<\/i>,\u201d said Mr. Pontellier, as he let himself out.<\/p>\n

The Doctor would have liked during the course of conversation to ask, \u201cIs there any man in the case?\u201d but he knew his Creole too well to make such a blunder as that.<\/p>\n

He did not resume his book immediately, but sat for a while meditatively looking out into the garden.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":22,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-108","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/108","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/251"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/108\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":218,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/108\/revisions\/218"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/108\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=108"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=108"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=108"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=108"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}