The Awakening

ven as a child she had lived her own small life all within herself. At a very early period she had appreh

s; but the most obvious was the influence of Adele Ratignolle. The excessive physical charm of the Creole had first attracted her, for Edna had a sensuous susceptibility to beauty. Then the candor of the woman’s whole existence, which every

Madame Ratignolle to leave the children behind, though she could not induce her to relinquish a diminutive roll of needlework,

it on either side made frequent and unexpected inroads. There were acres of yellow camomile reaching out on either hand. Further away still, veget

metrical; it was a body which occasionally fell into splendid poses; there was no suggestion of the trim, stereotyped fashion-plate about it. A casual and indiscriminating observer, in passing, might not cast a second g

so a white linen collar and the big straw hat which she had taken from the peg outside the door. The h

untlets that protected her wrists. She was dressed in pure white, with a fluffiness of ruffles that became her. The draperi

family at Lebrun’s possessed a compartment for itself, fitted out with all the essential paraphernalia of the bath and whatever other conveniences the owners might desire. The two women had no

m she went inside, and soon emerged, bringing a rug, which she spread upon the floor of the gallery

at the throat. She took the fan from Madame Ratignolle and began to fan both herself and her companion. It was very warm, and for a while they did nothing but exchange remarks about the heat, the sun, the glare. But there was a breeze blowing, a choppy, stiff wind that whipped the water into froth. It fluttered the skirts of the two women and kept them for a while engaged in adjustin

the gaze out as far as the blue sky went; there were a few white clouds suspended idly over the horizon. A lateen s

she had been watching with a little amused attention, arrested by the absorbed exp

nctively to such a question. Let me see,” she went on, throwing back her head and narrowing her fine eyes till they shone like t

ite so exacting. I will let you off this time. It is real

and look at. The hot wind beating in my face made me think-without any connection that I can trace of a summer day in Kentucky, of a meadow that seemed as big as the ocean to the very little girl w

hat day in Kentucky, wa

ew. I could see only the stretch of green before me, and I felt as if I must walk on forever, without co

g away from prayers, from the Presbyterian service, read in a

rom prayers ever since, ma chere?

n me; after I was twelve and until-until-why, I suppose until now, though I never thought much about it-just driven along by habit. But do you know,” she broke off, turning her quick eyes upon Madame Ratignolle an

ng that the hand was not withdrawn, she clasped it firmly and warmly. She even stroked

nd dignified, probably from having assumed matronly and housewifely responsibilities too early in life, their mother having died when they were quite young, Margaret was not effusive; she was practical. Edna had had an occasional girl friend, but whether accidentally or not, they seemed to have been all of one type-the self-contained. She never realized that

ocean of waving grass-she remembered that she had been passionately enamored of a dignified and sad-eyed cavalry officer who visited her father in Kentucky. She could not leave his presence when he wa

ung man was engaged to be married to the young lady, and they sometimes called upon Margaret, driving over of afternoons in a buggy. Edna was a little miss, just merging int

e face and figure of a great tragedian began to haunt her imagination and stir her senses. The persistence of the in

. (This was a sinister reflection which she cherished.) In the presence of others she expressed admiration for his exalted gifts, as she handed

re in the habit of doing, and pressed his suit with an earnestness and an ardor which left nothing to be desired. He pleased her; his absolute devotion flattered her. She fancied there was a sympathy of thought and taste between them, in

As the devoted wife of a man who worshiped her, she felt she would take her place with a certain dignit

d Edna found herself face to face with the realities. She grew fond of her husband, realizing with some unaccountable satisf

f the summer with their grandmother Pontellier in Iberville. Feeling secure regarding their happiness and welfare, she did not miss them except with an occasional intense longing. Their a

good part of it escaped her. She had put her head down on Madame Ratignolle’s shoulder. She was flushed and felt intoxicated wi

or them. The two little Pontelliers were with him, and he carried Madame Ratignolle’s little girl in his

into the bath-house. The children all scampered off to the awning, and they stood there in a line, gazing upon the intruding lov

ves of the tent, and Mrs. Pont

se; she complained of cramp in her limbs and stiffness of t