The Awakening and Selected Short Stories

A green and yellow parrot, which hung in a cage outside the door, kept

repeating over and over:

"Allez vous-en! Allez vous-en! Sapristi! That's all right!"

He could speak a little Spanish, and also a language which nobody

understood, unless it was the mocking-bird that hung on the other

side of the door, whistling his fluty notes out upon the breeze with

maddening persistence.

Mr. Pontellier, unable to read his newspaper with any degree of comfort,

arose with an expression and an exclamation of disgust.

He walked down the gallery and across the narrow "bridges" which

connected the Lebrun cottages one with the other. He had been seated

before the door of the main house. The parrot and the mockingbird were

the property of Madame Lebrun, and they had the right to make all the

noise they wished. Mr. Pontellier had the privilege of quitting their

society when they ceased to be entertaining.

He stopped before the door of his own cottage, which was the fourth one

from the main building and next to the last. Seating himself in a wicker

rocker which was there, he once more applied himself to the task of

reading the newspaper. The day was Sunday; the paper was a day old. The

Sunday papers had not yet reached Grand Isle. He was already acquainted

with the market reports, and he glanced restlessly over the editorials

and bits of news which he had not had time to read before quitting New

Orleans the day before.

Mr. Pontellier wore eye-glasses. He was a man of forty, of medium height

and rather slender build; he stooped a little. His hair was brown and

straight, parted on one side. His beard was neatly and closely trimmed.

Once in a while he withdrew his glance from the newspaper and looked

about him. There was more noise than ever over at the house. The main

building was called "the house," to distinguish it from the cottages.

The chattering and whistling birds were still at it. Two young girls,

the Farival twins, were playing a duet from "Zampa" upon the piano.

Madame Lebrun was bustling in and out, giving orders in a high key to a

yard-boy whenever she got inside the house, and directions in an equally

high voice to a dining-room servant whenever she got outside. She was

a fresh, pretty woman, clad always in white with elbow sleeves. Her

starched skirts crinkled as she came and went. Farther down, before

one of the cottages, a lady in black was walking demurely up and down,

telling her beads. A good many persons of the pension had gone over to

the Cheniere Caminada in Beaudelet's lugger to hear mass. Some young

people were out under the wateroaks playing croquet. Mr. Pontellier's

two children were there sturdy little fellows of four and five. A

quadroon nurse followed them about with a faraway, meditative air.

Dettagli