the awakening and selected short stories(苏醒)-第17部分
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Suppose I didn't look after the clerks in my office； just let them run things
their own way； they'd soon make a nice mess of me and my business。〃
〃Where are you going？〃 asked Edna； seeing that her husband arose
from table without having eaten a morsel except a taste of the highly…
seasoned soup。
〃I'm going to get my dinner at the club。 Good night。〃 He went into
the hall； took his hat and stick from the stand； and left the house。
She was somewhat familiar with such scenes。 They had often made
her very unhappy。 On a few previous occasions she had been completely
deprived of any desire to finish her dinner。 Sometimes she had gone into
the kitchen to administer a tardy rebuke to the cook。 Once she went to
her room and studied the cookbook during an entire evening； finally
writing out a menu for the week； which left her harassed with a feeling
that； after all； she had accomplished no good that was worth the name。
But that evening Edna finished her dinner alone； with forced
deliberation。 Her face was flushed and her eyes flamed with some
inward fire that lighted them。 After finishing her dinner she went to her
room； having instructed the boy to tell any other callers that she was
indisposed。
It was a large； beautiful room； rich and picturesque in the soft； dim
light which the maid had turned low。 She went and stood at an open
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window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below。 All
the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid
the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage。
She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet； half…
darkness which met her moods。 But the voices were not soothing that
came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars。 They
jeered and sounded mournful notes without promise； devoid even of hope。
She turned back into the room and began to walk to and fro down its
whole length； without stopping； without resting。 She carried in her hands
a thin handkerchief； which she tore into ribbons； rolled into a ball； and
flung from her。 Once she stopped； and taking off her wedding ring； flung
it upon the carpet。 When she saw it lying there； she stamped her heel
upon it； striving to crush it。 But her small boot heel did not make an
indenture； not a mark upon the little glittering circlet。
In a sweeping passion she seized a glass vase from the table and flung
it upon the tiles of the hearth。 She wanted to destroy something。 The
crash and clatter were what she wanted to hear。
A maid； alarmed at the din of breaking glass； entered the room to
discover what was the matter。
〃A vase fell upon the hearth；〃 said Edna。 〃Never mind； leave it till
morning。〃
〃Oh！ you might get some of the glass in your feet； ma'am；〃 insisted the
young woman； picking up bits of the broken vase that were scattered upon
the carpet。 〃And here's your ring； ma'am； under the chair。〃
Edna held out her hand； and taking the ring； slipped it upon her finger。
XVIII
The following morning Mr。 Pontellier； upon leaving for his office；
asked Edna if she would not meet him in town in order to look at some
new fixtures for the library。
〃I hardly think we need new fixtures； Leonce。 Don't let us get
anything new； you are too extravagant。 I don't believe you ever think of
saving or putting by。〃
〃The way to become rich is to make money； my dear Edna； not to save
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it；〃 he said。 He regretted that she did not feel inclined to go with him and
select new fixtures。 He kissed her good…by； and told her she was not
looking well and must take care of herself。 She was unusually pale and
very quiet。
She stood on the front veranda as he quitted the house； and absently
picked a few sprays of jessamine that grew upon a trellis near by。 She
inhaled the odor of the blossoms and thrust them into the bosom of her
white morning gown。 The boys were dragging along the banquette a
small 〃express wagon；〃 which they had filled with blocks and sticks。
The quadroon was following them with little quick steps； having assumed
a fictitious animation and alacrity for the occasion。 A fruit vender was
crying his wares in the street。
Edna looked straight before her with a self…absorbed expression upon
her face。 She felt no interest in anything about her。 The street； the
children； the fruit vender； the flowers growing there under her eyes； were
all part and parcel of an alien world which had suddenly become
antagonistic。
She went back into the house。 She had thought of speaking to the
cook concerning her blunders of the previous night； but Mr。 Pontellier had
saved her that disagreeable mission； for which she was so poorly fitted。
Mr。 Pontellier's arguments were usually convincing with those whom he
employed。 He left home feeling quite sure that he and Edna would sit
down that evening； and possibly a few subsequent evenings； to a dinner
deserving of the name。
Edna spent an hour or two in looking over some of her old sketches。
She could see their shortcomings and defects； which were glaring in her
eyes。 She tried to work a little； but found she was not in the humor。
Finally she gathered together a few of the sketchesthose which she
considered the least discreditable； and she carried them with her when； a
little later； she dressed and left the house。 She looked handsome and
distinguished in her street gown。 The tan of the seashore had left her
face； and her forehead was smooth； white； and polished beneath her heavy；
yellow…brown hair。 There were a few freckles on her face； and a small；
dark mole near the under lip and one on the temple； half…hidden in her
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hair。
As Edna walked along the street she was thinking of Robert。 She was
still under the spell of her infatuation。 She had tried to forget him；
realizing the inutility of remembering。 But the thought of him was like
an obsession； ever pressing itself upon her。 It was not that she dwelt
upon details of their acquaintance； or recalled in any special or peculiar
way his personality； it was his being； his existence； which dominated her
thought； fading sometimes as if it would melt into the mist of the forgotten；
reviving again with an intensity which filled her with an incomprehensible
longing。
Edna was on her way to Madame Ratignolle's。 Their intimacy； begun
at Grand Isle； had not declined； and they had seen each other with some
frequency since their return to the city。 The Ratignolles lived at no great
distance from Edna's home； on the corner of a side street； where Monsieur
Ratignolle owned and conducted a drug store which enjoyed a steady and
prosperous trade。 His father had been in the business before him； and
Monsieur Ratignolle stood well in the community and bore an enviable
reputation for integrity and clearheadedness。 His family lived in
commodious apartments over the store； having an entrance on the side
within the porte cochere。 There was something which Edna thought very
French； very foreign； about their whole manner of living。 In the large
and pleasant salon which extended across the width of the house； the
Ratignolles entertained their friends once a fortnight with a soiree
musicale； sometimes diversified by card…playing。 There was a friend
who played upon the 'cello。 One brought his flute and another his violin；
while there were some who sang and a number who performed upon the
piano with various degrees of taste and agility。 The Ratignolles' soirees
musicales were widely known； and it was considered a privilege to be
invited to them。
Edna found her friend engaged in assorting the clothes which had
returned that morning from the laundry。 She at once abandoned her
occupation upon seeing Edna； who had been ushered without ceremony
into her presence。
〃‘Cite can do it as well as I； it is really her business；〃 she explained
