{"id":120,"date":"2021-05-18T11:13:44","date_gmt":"2021-05-18T15:13:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/awakening\/?post_type=chapter&p=120"},"modified":"2022-02-01T11:19:47","modified_gmt":"2022-02-01T16:19:47","slug":"26","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/chapter\/26\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter XXVI","rendered":"Chapter XXVI"},"content":{"raw":"Alc\u00e9e Arobin wrote Edna an elaborate note of apology, palpitant with sincerity. It embarrassed her; for in a cooler, quieter moment it appeared to her absurd that she should have taken his action so seriously, so dramatically. She felt sure that the significance of the whole occurrence had lain in her own self-consciousness. If she ignored his note it would give undue importance to a trivial affair. If she replied to it in a serious spirit it would still leave in his mind the impression that she had in a susceptible moment yielded to his influence. After all, it was no great matter to have one\u2019s hand kissed. She was provoked at his having written the apology. She answered in as light and bantering a spirit as she fancied it deserved, and said she would be glad to have him look in upon her at work whenever he felt the inclination and his business gave him the opportunity.\r\n\r\nHe responded at once by presenting himself at her home with all his disarming na\u00efvet\u00e9. And then there was scarcely a day which followed that she did not see him or was not reminded of him. He was prolific in pretexts. His attitude became one of good-humored subservience and tacit adoration. He was ready at all times to submit to her moods, which were as often kind as they were cold. She grew accustomed to him. They became intimate and friendly by imperceptible degrees, and then by leaps. He sometimes talked in a way that astonished her at first and brought the crimson into her face; in a way that pleased her at last, appealing to the animalism that stirred impatiently within her.\r\n\r\nThere was nothing which so quieted the turmoil of Edna\u2019s senses as a visit to Mademoiselle Reisz. It was then, in the presence of that personality which was offensive to her, that the woman, by her divine art, seemed to reach Edna\u2019s spirit and set it free.\r\n\r\nIt was misty, with heavy, lowering atmosphere, one afternoon, when Edna climbed the stairs to the pianist\u2019s apartments under the roof. Her clothes were dripping with moisture. She felt chilled and pinched as she entered the room. Mademoiselle was poking at a rusty stove that smoked a little and warmed the room indifferently. She was endeavoring to heat a pot of chocolate on the stove. The room looked cheerless and dingy to Edna as she entered. A bust of Beethoven, covered with a hood of dust, scowled at her from the mantelpiece.\r\n\r\n\u201cAh! here comes the sunlight!\u201d exclaimed Mademoiselle, rising from her knees before the stove. \u201cNow it will be warm and bright enough; I can let the fire alone.\u201d\r\n\r\nShe closed the stove door with a bang, and approaching, assisted in removing Edna\u2019s dripping mackintosh.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou are cold; you look miserable. The chocolate will soon be hot. But would you rather have a taste of brandy? I have scarcely touched the bottle which you brought me for my cold.\u201d A piece of red flannel was wrapped around Mademoiselle\u2019s throat; a stiff neck compelled her to hold her head on one side.\r\n\r\n\u201cI will take some brandy,\u201d said Edna, shivering as she removed her gloves and overshoes. She drank the liquor from the glass as a man would have done. Then flinging herself upon the uncomfortable sofa she said, \u201cMademoiselle, I am going to move away from my house on Esplanade Street.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAh!\u201d ejaculated the musician, neither surprised nor especially interested. Nothing ever seemed to astonish her very much. She was endeavoring to adjust the bunch of violets which had become loose from its fastening in her hair. Edna drew her down upon the sofa, and taking a pin from her own hair, secured the shabby artificial flowers in their accustomed place.\r\n\r\n\u201cAren\u2019t you astonished?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cPassably. Where are you going? to New York? to Iberville? to your father in Mississippi? where?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cJust two steps away,\u201d laughed Edna, \u201cin a little four-room house around the corner. It looks so cozy, so inviting and restful, whenever I pass by; and it\u2019s for rent. I\u2019m tired looking after that big house. It never seemed like mine, anyway\u2014like home. It\u2019s too much trouble. I have to keep too many servants. I am tired bothering with them.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThat is not your true reason, ma belle<\/i>. There is no use in telling me lies. I don\u2019t know your reason, but you have not told me the truth.\u201d Edna did not protest or endeavor to justify herself.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe house, the money that provides for it, are not mine. Isn\u2019t that enough reason?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThey are your husband\u2019s,\u201d returned Mademoiselle, with a shrug and a malicious elevation of the eyebrows.\r\n\r\n\u201cOh! I see there is no deceiving you. Then let me tell you: It is a caprice. I have a little money of my own from my mother\u2019s estate, which my father sends me by driblets. I won a large sum this winter on the races, and I am beginning to sell my sketches. Laidpore is more and more pleased with my work; he says it grows in force and individuality. I cannot judge of that myself, but I feel that I have gained in ease and confidence. However, as I said, I have sold a good many through Laidpore. I can live in the tiny house for little or nothing, with one servant. Old Celestine, who works occasionally for me, says she will come stay with me and do my work. I know I shall like it, like the feeling of freedom and independence.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat does your husband say?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI have not told him yet. I only thought of it this morning. He will think I am demented, no doubt. Perhaps you think so.\u201d\r\n\r\nMademoiselle shook her head slowly. \u201cYour reason is not yet clear to me,\u201d she said.\r\n\r\nNeither was it quite clear to Edna herself; but it unfolded itself as she sat for a while in silence. Instinct had prompted her to put away her husband\u2019s bounty in casting off her allegiance. She did not know how it would be when he returned. There would have to be an understanding, an explanation. Conditions would some way adjust themselves, she felt; but whatever came, she had resolved never again to belong to another than herself.\r\n\r\n\u201cI shall give a grand dinner before I leave the old house!\u201d Edna exclaimed. \u201cYou will have to come to it, Mademoiselle. I will give you everything that you like to eat and to drink. We shall sing and laugh and be merry for once.\u201d And she uttered a sigh that came from the very depths of her being.\r\n\r\nIf Mademoiselle happened to have received a letter from Robert during the interval of Edna\u2019s visits, she would give her the letter unsolicited. And she would seat herself at the piano and play as her humor prompted her while the young woman read the letter.\r\n\r\nThe little stove was roaring; it was red-hot, and the chocolate in the tin sizzled and sputtered. Edna went forward and opened the stove door, and Mademoiselle rising, took a letter from under the bust of Beethoven and handed it to Edna.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnother! so soon!\u201d she exclaimed, her eyes filled with delight. \u201cTell me, Mademoiselle, does he know that I see his letters?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNever in the world! He would be angry and would never write to me again if he thought so. Does he write to you? Never a line. Does he send you a message? Never a word. It is because he loves you, poor fool, and is trying to forget you, since you are not free to listen to him or to belong to him.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhy do you show me his letters, then?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHaven\u2019t you begged for them? Can I refuse you anything? Oh! you cannot deceive me,\u201d and Mademoiselle approached her beloved instrument and began to play. Edna did not at once read the letter. She sat holding it in her hand, while the music penetrated her whole being like an effulgence, warming and brightening the dark places of her soul. It prepared her for joy and exultation.\r\n\r\n\u201cOh!\u201d she exclaimed, letting the letter fall to the floor. \u201cWhy did you not tell me?\u201d She went and grasped Mademoiselle\u2019s hands up from the keys. \u201cOh! unkind! malicious! Why did you not tell me?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThat he was coming back? No great news, ma foi<\/i>. I wonder he did not come long ago.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBut when, when?\u201d cried Edna, impatiently. \u201cHe does not say when.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHe says \u2018very soon.\u2019 You know as much about it as I do; it is all in the letter.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBut why? Why is he coming? Oh, if I thought\u2014\u201d and she snatched the letter from the floor and turned the pages this way and that way, looking for the reason, which was left untold.\r\n\r\n\u201cIf I were young and in love with a man,\u201d said Mademoiselle, turning on the stool and pressing her wiry hands between her knees as she looked down at Edna, who sat on the floor holding the letter, \u201cit seems to me he would have to be some grand esprit;<\/i> a man with lofty aims and ability to reach them; one who stood high enough to attract the notice of his fellow-men. It seems to me if I were young and in love I should never deem a man of ordinary caliber worthy of my devotion.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNow it is you who are telling lies and seeking to deceive me, Mademoiselle; or else you have never been in love, and know nothing about it. Why,\u201d went on Edna, clasping her knees and looking up into Mademoiselle\u2019s twisted face, \u201cdo you suppose a woman knows why she loves? Does she select? Does she say to herself: \u2018Go to! Here is a distinguished statesman with presidential possibilities; I shall proceed to fall in love with him.\u2019 Or, \u2018I shall set my heart upon this musician, whose fame is on every tongue?\u2019 Or, \u2018This financier, who controls the world\u2019s money markets?\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cYou are purposely misunderstanding me, ma reine<\/i>. Are you in love with Robert?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Edna. It was the first time she had admitted it, and a glow overspread her face, blotching it with red spots.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhy?\u201d asked her companion. \u201cWhy do you love him when you ought not to?\u201d\r\n\r\nEdna, with a motion or two, dragged herself on her knees before Mademoiselle Reisz, who took the glowing face between her two hands.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhy? Because his hair is brown and grows away from his temples; because he opens and shuts his eyes, and his nose is a little out of drawing; because he has two lips and a square chin, and a little finger which he can\u2019t straighten from having played baseball too energetically in his youth. Because\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBecause you do, in short,\u201d laughed Mademoiselle. \u201cWhat will you do when he comes back?\u201d she asked.\r\n\r\n\u201cDo? Nothing, except feel glad and happy to be alive.\u201d\r\n\r\nShe was already glad and happy to be alive at the mere thought of his return. The murky, lowering sky, which had depressed her a few hours before, seemed bracing and invigorating as she splashed through the streets on her way home.\r\n\r\nShe stopped at a confectioner\u2019s and ordered a huge box of bonbons for the children in Iberville. She slipped a card in the box, on which she scribbled a tender message and sent an abundance of kisses.\r\n\r\nBefore dinner in the evening Edna wrote a charming letter to her husband, telling him of her intention to move for a while into the little house around the block, and to give a farewell dinner before leaving, regretting that he was not there to share it, to help out with the menu and assist her in entertaining the guests. Her letter was brilliant and brimming with cheerfulness.","rendered":"

Alc\u00e9e Arobin wrote Edna an elaborate note of apology, palpitant with sincerity. It embarrassed her; for in a cooler, quieter moment it appeared to her absurd that she should have taken his action so seriously, so dramatically. She felt sure that the significance of the whole occurrence had lain in her own self-consciousness. If she ignored his note it would give undue importance to a trivial affair. If she replied to it in a serious spirit it would still leave in his mind the impression that she had in a susceptible moment yielded to his influence. After all, it was no great matter to have one\u2019s hand kissed. She was provoked at his having written the apology. She answered in as light and bantering a spirit as she fancied it deserved, and said she would be glad to have him look in upon her at work whenever he felt the inclination and his business gave him the opportunity.<\/p>\n

He responded at once by presenting himself at her home with all his disarming na\u00efvet\u00e9. And then there was scarcely a day which followed that she did not see him or was not reminded of him. He was prolific in pretexts. His attitude became one of good-humored subservience and tacit adoration. He was ready at all times to submit to her moods, which were as often kind as they were cold. She grew accustomed to him. They became intimate and friendly by imperceptible degrees, and then by leaps. He sometimes talked in a way that astonished her at first and brought the crimson into her face; in a way that pleased her at last, appealing to the animalism that stirred impatiently within her.<\/p>\n

There was nothing which so quieted the turmoil of Edna\u2019s senses as a visit to Mademoiselle Reisz. It was then, in the presence of that personality which was offensive to her, that the woman, by her divine art, seemed to reach Edna\u2019s spirit and set it free.<\/p>\n

It was misty, with heavy, lowering atmosphere, one afternoon, when Edna climbed the stairs to the pianist\u2019s apartments under the roof. Her clothes were dripping with moisture. She felt chilled and pinched as she entered the room. Mademoiselle was poking at a rusty stove that smoked a little and warmed the room indifferently. She was endeavoring to heat a pot of chocolate on the stove. The room looked cheerless and dingy to Edna as she entered. A bust of Beethoven, covered with a hood of dust, scowled at her from the mantelpiece.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh! here comes the sunlight!\u201d exclaimed Mademoiselle, rising from her knees before the stove. \u201cNow it will be warm and bright enough; I can let the fire alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

She closed the stove door with a bang, and approaching, assisted in removing Edna\u2019s dripping mackintosh.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are cold; you look miserable. The chocolate will soon be hot. But would you rather have a taste of brandy? I have scarcely touched the bottle which you brought me for my cold.\u201d A piece of red flannel was wrapped around Mademoiselle\u2019s throat; a stiff neck compelled her to hold her head on one side.<\/p>\n

\u201cI will take some brandy,\u201d said Edna, shivering as she removed her gloves and overshoes. She drank the liquor from the glass as a man would have done. Then flinging herself upon the uncomfortable sofa she said, \u201cMademoiselle, I am going to move away from my house on Esplanade Street.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh!\u201d ejaculated the musician, neither surprised nor especially interested. Nothing ever seemed to astonish her very much. She was endeavoring to adjust the bunch of violets which had become loose from its fastening in her hair. Edna drew her down upon the sofa, and taking a pin from her own hair, secured the shabby artificial flowers in their accustomed place.<\/p>\n

\u201cAren\u2019t you astonished?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPassably. Where are you going? to New York? to Iberville? to your father in Mississippi? where?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust two steps away,\u201d laughed Edna, \u201cin a little four-room house around the corner. It looks so cozy, so inviting and restful, whenever I pass by; and it\u2019s for rent. I\u2019m tired looking after that big house. It never seemed like mine, anyway\u2014like home. It\u2019s too much trouble. I have to keep too many servants. I am tired bothering with them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat is not your true reason, ma belle<\/i>. There is no use in telling me lies. I don\u2019t know your reason, but you have not told me the truth.\u201d Edna did not protest or endeavor to justify herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe house, the money that provides for it, are not mine. Isn\u2019t that enough reason?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey are your husband\u2019s,\u201d returned Mademoiselle, with a shrug and a malicious elevation of the eyebrows.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh! I see there is no deceiving you. Then let me tell you: It is a caprice. I have a little money of my own from my mother\u2019s estate, which my father sends me by driblets. I won a large sum this winter on the races, and I am beginning to sell my sketches. Laidpore is more and more pleased with my work; he says it grows in force and individuality. I cannot judge of that myself, but I feel that I have gained in ease and confidence. However, as I said, I have sold a good many through Laidpore. I can live in the tiny house for little or nothing, with one servant. Old Celestine, who works occasionally for me, says she will come stay with me and do my work. I know I shall like it, like the feeling of freedom and independence.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does your husband say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have not told him yet. I only thought of it this morning. He will think I am demented, no doubt. Perhaps you think so.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mademoiselle shook her head slowly. \u201cYour reason is not yet clear to me,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Neither was it quite clear to Edna herself; but it unfolded itself as she sat for a while in silence. Instinct had prompted her to put away her husband\u2019s bounty in casting off her allegiance. She did not know how it would be when he returned. There would have to be an understanding, an explanation. Conditions would some way adjust themselves, she felt; but whatever came, she had resolved never again to belong to another than herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cI shall give a grand dinner before I leave the old house!\u201d Edna exclaimed. \u201cYou will have to come to it, Mademoiselle. I will give you everything that you like to eat and to drink. We shall sing and laugh and be merry for once.\u201d And she uttered a sigh that came from the very depths of her being.<\/p>\n

If Mademoiselle happened to have received a letter from Robert during the interval of Edna\u2019s visits, she would give her the letter unsolicited. And she would seat herself at the piano and play as her humor prompted her while the young woman read the letter.<\/p>\n

The little stove was roaring; it was red-hot, and the chocolate in the tin sizzled and sputtered. Edna went forward and opened the stove door, and Mademoiselle rising, took a letter from under the bust of Beethoven and handed it to Edna.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnother! so soon!\u201d she exclaimed, her eyes filled with delight. \u201cTell me, Mademoiselle, does he know that I see his letters?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNever in the world! He would be angry and would never write to me again if he thought so. Does he write to you? Never a line. Does he send you a message? Never a word. It is because he loves you, poor fool, and is trying to forget you, since you are not free to listen to him or to belong to him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you show me his letters, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHaven\u2019t you begged for them? Can I refuse you anything? Oh! you cannot deceive me,\u201d and Mademoiselle approached her beloved instrument and began to play. Edna did not at once read the letter. She sat holding it in her hand, while the music penetrated her whole being like an effulgence, warming and brightening the dark places of her soul. It prepared her for joy and exultation.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh!\u201d she exclaimed, letting the letter fall to the floor. \u201cWhy did you not tell me?\u201d She went and grasped Mademoiselle\u2019s hands up from the keys. \u201cOh! unkind! malicious! Why did you not tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat he was coming back? No great news, ma foi<\/i>. I wonder he did not come long ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut when, when?\u201d cried Edna, impatiently. \u201cHe does not say when.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe says \u2018very soon.\u2019 You know as much about it as I do; it is all in the letter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut why? Why is he coming? Oh, if I thought\u2014\u201d and she snatched the letter from the floor and turned the pages this way and that way, looking for the reason, which was left untold.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I were young and in love with a man,\u201d said Mademoiselle, turning on the stool and pressing her wiry hands between her knees as she looked down at Edna, who sat on the floor holding the letter, \u201cit seems to me he would have to be some grand esprit;<\/i> a man with lofty aims and ability to reach them; one who stood high enough to attract the notice of his fellow-men. It seems to me if I were young and in love I should never deem a man of ordinary caliber worthy of my devotion.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow it is you who are telling lies and seeking to deceive me, Mademoiselle; or else you have never been in love, and know nothing about it. Why,\u201d went on Edna, clasping her knees and looking up into Mademoiselle\u2019s twisted face, \u201cdo you suppose a woman knows why she loves? Does she select? Does she say to herself: \u2018Go to! Here is a distinguished statesman with presidential possibilities; I shall proceed to fall in love with him.\u2019 Or, \u2018I shall set my heart upon this musician, whose fame is on every tongue?\u2019 Or, \u2018This financier, who controls the world\u2019s money markets?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are purposely misunderstanding me, ma reine<\/i>. Are you in love with Robert?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d said Edna. It was the first time she had admitted it, and a glow overspread her face, blotching it with red spots.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d asked her companion. \u201cWhy do you love him when you ought not to?\u201d<\/p>\n

Edna, with a motion or two, dragged herself on her knees before Mademoiselle Reisz, who took the glowing face between her two hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy? Because his hair is brown and grows away from his temples; because he opens and shuts his eyes, and his nose is a little out of drawing; because he has two lips and a square chin, and a little finger which he can\u2019t straighten from having played baseball too energetically in his youth. Because\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause you do, in short,\u201d laughed Mademoiselle. \u201cWhat will you do when he comes back?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo? Nothing, except feel glad and happy to be alive.\u201d<\/p>\n

She was already glad and happy to be alive at the mere thought of his return. The murky, lowering sky, which had depressed her a few hours before, seemed bracing and invigorating as she splashed through the streets on her way home.<\/p>\n

She stopped at a confectioner\u2019s and ordered a huge box of bonbons for the children in Iberville. She slipped a card in the box, on which she scribbled a tender message and sent an abundance of kisses.<\/p>\n

Before dinner in the evening Edna wrote a charming letter to her husband, telling him of her intention to move for a while into the little house around the block, and to give a farewell dinner before leaving, regretting that he was not there to share it, to help out with the menu and assist her in entertaining the guests. Her letter was brilliant and brimming with cheerfulness.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":26,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-120","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\/120","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\/120\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":222,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/120\/revisions\/222"}],"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\/120\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=120"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=120"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=120"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=120"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}