{"id":143,"date":"2021-05-18T11:21:29","date_gmt":"2021-05-18T15:21:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/awakening\/?post_type=chapter&p=143"},"modified":"2022-02-01T11:22:06","modified_gmt":"2022-02-01T16:22:06","slug":"34","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/chapter\/34\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter XXXIV","rendered":"Chapter XXXIV"},"content":{"raw":"The dining-room was very small. Edna\u2019s round mahogany would have almost filled it. As it was there was but a step or two from the little table to the kitchen, to the mantel, the small buffet, and the side door that opened out on the narrow brick-paved yard.\r\n\r\nA certain degree of ceremony settled upon them with the announcement of dinner. There was no return to personalities. Robert related incidents of his sojourn in Mexico, and Edna talked of events likely to interest him, which had occurred during his absence. The dinner was of ordinary quality, except for the few delicacies which she had sent out to purchase. Old Celestine, with a bandana tignon<\/i> twisted about her head, hobbled in and out, taking a personal interest in everything; and she lingered occasionally to talk patois with Robert, whom she had known as a boy.\r\n\r\nHe went out to a neighboring cigar stand to purchase cigarette papers, and when he came back he found that Celestine had served the black coffee in the parlor.\r\n\r\n\u201cPerhaps I shouldn\u2019t have come back,\u201d he said. \u201cWhen you are tired of me, tell me to go.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYou never tire me. You must have forgotten the hours and hours at Grand Isle in which we grew accustomed to each other and used to being together.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI have forgotten nothing at Grand Isle,\u201d he said, not looking at her, but rolling a cigarette. His tobacco pouch, which he laid upon the table, was a fantastic embroidered silk affair, evidently the handiwork of a woman.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou used to carry your tobacco in a rubber pouch,\u201d said Edna, picking up the pouch and examining the needlework.\r\n\r\n\u201cYes; it was lost.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhere did you buy this one? In Mexico?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cIt was given to me by a Vera Cruz girl; they are very generous,\u201d he replied, striking a match and lighting his cigarette.\r\n\r\n\u201cThey are very handsome, I suppose, those Mexican women; very picturesque, with their black eyes and their lace scarfs.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSome are; others are hideous, just as you find women everywhere.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat was she like\u2014the one who gave you the pouch? You must have known her very well.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cShe was very ordinary. She wasn\u2019t of the slightest importance. I knew her well enough.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDid you visit at her house? Was it interesting? I should like to know and hear about the people you met, and the impressions they made on you.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThere are some people who leave impressions not so lasting as the imprint of an oar upon the water.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWas she such a one?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cIt would be ungenerous for me to admit that she was of that order and kind.\u201d He thrust the pouch back in his pocket, as if to put away the subject with the trifle which had brought it up.\r\n\r\nArobin dropped in with a message from Mrs. Merriman, to say that the card party was postponed on account of the illness of one of her children.\r\n\r\n\u201cHow do you do, Arobin?\u201d said Robert, rising from the obscurity.\r\n\r\n\u201cOh! Lebrun. To be sure! I heard yesterday you were back. How did they treat you down in Mexique?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cFairly well.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBut not well enough to keep you there. Stunning girls, though, in Mexico. I thought I should never get away from Vera Cruz when I was down there a couple of years ago.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDid they embroider slippers and tobacco pouches and hat-bands and things for you?\u201d asked Edna.\r\n\r\n\u201cOh! my! no! I didn\u2019t get so deep in their regard. I fear they made more impression on me than I made on them.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYou were less fortunate than Robert, then.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI am always less fortunate than Robert. Has he been imparting tender confidences?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI\u2019ve been imposing myself long enough,\u201d said Robert, rising, and shaking hands with Edna. \u201cPlease convey my regards to Mr. Pontellier when you write.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe shook hands with Arobin and went away.\r\n\r\n\u201cFine fellow, that Lebrun,\u201d said Arobin when Robert had gone. \u201cI never heard you speak of him.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI knew him last summer at Grand Isle,\u201d she replied. \u201cHere is that photograph of yours. Don\u2019t you want it?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat do I want with it? Throw it away.\u201d She threw it back on the table.\r\n\r\n\u201cI\u2019m not going to Mrs. Merriman\u2019s,\u201d she said. \u201cIf you see her, tell her so. But perhaps I had better write. I think I shall write now, and say that I am sorry her child is sick, and tell her not to count on me.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cIt would be a good scheme,\u201d acquiesced Arobin. \u201cI don\u2019t blame you; stupid lot!\u201d\r\n\r\nEdna opened the blotter, and having procured paper and pen, began to write the note. Arobin lit a cigar and read the evening paper, which he had in his pocket.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat is the date?\u201d she asked. He told her.\r\n\r\n\u201cWill you mail this for me when you go out?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cCertainly.\u201d He read to her little bits out of the newspaper, while she straightened things on the table.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat do you want to do?\u201d he asked, throwing aside the paper. \u201cDo you want to go out for a walk or a drive or anything? It would be a fine night to drive.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo; I don\u2019t want to do anything but just be quiet. You go away and amuse yourself. Don\u2019t stay.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI\u2019ll go away if I must; but I shan\u2019t amuse myself. You know that I only live when I am near you.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe stood up to bid her good night.\r\n\r\n\u201cIs that one of the things you always say to women?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI have said it before, but I don\u2019t think I ever came so near meaning it,\u201d he answered with a smile. There were no warm lights in her eyes; only a dreamy, absent look.\r\n\r\n\u201cGood night. I adore you. Sleep well,\u201d he said, and he kissed her hand and went away.\r\n\r\nShe stayed alone in a kind of reverie\u2014a sort of stupor. Step by step she lived over every instant of the time she had been with Robert after he had entered Mademoiselle Reisz\u2019s door. She recalled his words, his looks. How few and meager they had been for her hungry heart! A vision\u2014a transcendently seductive vision of a Mexican girl arose before her. She writhed with a jealous pang. She wondered when he would come back. He had not said he would come back. She had been with him, had heard his voice and touched his hand. But some way he had seemed nearer to her off there in Mexico.","rendered":"

The dining-room was very small. Edna\u2019s round mahogany would have almost filled it. As it was there was but a step or two from the little table to the kitchen, to the mantel, the small buffet, and the side door that opened out on the narrow brick-paved yard.<\/p>\n

A certain degree of ceremony settled upon them with the announcement of dinner. There was no return to personalities. Robert related incidents of his sojourn in Mexico, and Edna talked of events likely to interest him, which had occurred during his absence. The dinner was of ordinary quality, except for the few delicacies which she had sent out to purchase. Old Celestine, with a bandana tignon<\/i> twisted about her head, hobbled in and out, taking a personal interest in everything; and she lingered occasionally to talk patois with Robert, whom she had known as a boy.<\/p>\n

He went out to a neighboring cigar stand to purchase cigarette papers, and when he came back he found that Celestine had served the black coffee in the parlor.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps I shouldn\u2019t have come back,\u201d he said. \u201cWhen you are tired of me, tell me to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou never tire me. You must have forgotten the hours and hours at Grand Isle in which we grew accustomed to each other and used to being together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have forgotten nothing at Grand Isle,\u201d he said, not looking at her, but rolling a cigarette. His tobacco pouch, which he laid upon the table, was a fantastic embroidered silk affair, evidently the handiwork of a woman.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou used to carry your tobacco in a rubber pouch,\u201d said Edna, picking up the pouch and examining the needlework.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes; it was lost.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere did you buy this one? In Mexico?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was given to me by a Vera Cruz girl; they are very generous,\u201d he replied, striking a match and lighting his cigarette.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey are very handsome, I suppose, those Mexican women; very picturesque, with their black eyes and their lace scarfs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome are; others are hideous, just as you find women everywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was she like\u2014the one who gave you the pouch? You must have known her very well.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was very ordinary. She wasn\u2019t of the slightest importance. I knew her well enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you visit at her house? Was it interesting? I should like to know and hear about the people you met, and the impressions they made on you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere are some people who leave impressions not so lasting as the imprint of an oar upon the water.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWas she such a one?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would be ungenerous for me to admit that she was of that order and kind.\u201d He thrust the pouch back in his pocket, as if to put away the subject with the trifle which had brought it up.<\/p>\n

Arobin dropped in with a message from Mrs. Merriman, to say that the card party was postponed on account of the illness of one of her children.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you do, Arobin?\u201d said Robert, rising from the obscurity.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh! Lebrun. To be sure! I heard yesterday you were back. How did they treat you down in Mexique?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFairly well.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut not well enough to keep you there. Stunning girls, though, in Mexico. I thought I should never get away from Vera Cruz when I was down there a couple of years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid they embroider slippers and tobacco pouches and hat-bands and things for you?\u201d asked Edna.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh! my! no! I didn\u2019t get so deep in their regard. I fear they made more impression on me than I made on them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were less fortunate than Robert, then.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am always less fortunate than Robert. Has he been imparting tender confidences?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been imposing myself long enough,\u201d said Robert, rising, and shaking hands with Edna. \u201cPlease convey my regards to Mr. Pontellier when you write.\u201d<\/p>\n

He shook hands with Arobin and went away.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine fellow, that Lebrun,\u201d said Arobin when Robert had gone. \u201cI never heard you speak of him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew him last summer at Grand Isle,\u201d she replied. \u201cHere is that photograph of yours. Don\u2019t you want it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do I want with it? Throw it away.\u201d She threw it back on the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not going to Mrs. Merriman\u2019s,\u201d she said. \u201cIf you see her, tell her so. But perhaps I had better write. I think I shall write now, and say that I am sorry her child is sick, and tell her not to count on me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would be a good scheme,\u201d acquiesced Arobin. \u201cI don\u2019t blame you; stupid lot!\u201d<\/p>\n

Edna opened the blotter, and having procured paper and pen, began to write the note. Arobin lit a cigar and read the evening paper, which he had in his pocket.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is the date?\u201d she asked. He told her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you mail this for me when you go out?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCertainly.\u201d He read to her little bits out of the newspaper, while she straightened things on the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want to do?\u201d he asked, throwing aside the paper. \u201cDo you want to go out for a walk or a drive or anything? It would be a fine night to drive.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo; I don\u2019t want to do anything but just be quiet. You go away and amuse yourself. Don\u2019t stay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll go away if I must; but I shan\u2019t amuse myself. You know that I only live when I am near you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stood up to bid her good night.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that one of the things you always say to women?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have said it before, but I don\u2019t think I ever came so near meaning it,\u201d he answered with a smile. There were no warm lights in her eyes; only a dreamy, absent look.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood night. I adore you. Sleep well,\u201d he said, and he kissed her hand and went away.<\/p>\n

She stayed alone in a kind of reverie\u2014a sort of stupor. Step by step she lived over every instant of the time she had been with Robert after he had entered Mademoiselle Reisz\u2019s door. She recalled his words, his looks. How few and meager they had been for her hungry heart! A vision\u2014a transcendently seductive vision of a Mexican girl arose before her. She writhed with a jealous pang. She wondered when he would come back. He had not said he would come back. She had been with him, had heard his voice and touched his hand. But some way he had seemed nearer to her off there in Mexico.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":34,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-143","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\/143","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\/143\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":230,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/143\/revisions\/230"}],"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\/143\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=143"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=143"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=143"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/awakening\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=143"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}