Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers
But a man needed occasional relaxation, he informed Mrs.
Pontellier, and every now and again he drummed up a pretext to
bring him to the city. My! but he had had a time of it the evening
before! He wouldn't want his mother to know, and he began to talk
in a whisper. He was scintillant with recollections. Of course,
he couldn't think of telling Mrs. Pontellier all about it, she
being a woman and not comprehending such things. But it all began
with a girl peeping and smiling at him through the shutters as he
passed by. Oh! but she was a beauty! Certainly he smiled back, and
went up and talked to her. Mrs. Pontellier did not know him if she
supposed he was one to let an opportunity like that escape him.
Despite herself, the youngster amused her. She must have betrayed
in her look some degree of interest or entertainment. The boy grew
more daring, and Mrs. Pontellier might have found herself, in a
little while, listening to a highly colored story but for the
timely appearance of Madame Lebrun.
That lady was still clad in white, according to her custom of the summer.
Her eyes beamed an effusive welcome. Would not Mrs. Pontellier go inside?
Would she partake of some refreshment? Why had she not been there before?
How was that dear Mr. Pontellier and how were those sweet children?
Had Mrs. Pontellier ever known such a warm November?
Victor went and reclined on the wicker lounge behind his mother's chair,
where he commanded a view of Edna's face. He had taken her parasol
from her hands while he spoke to her, and he now lifted it and
twirled it above him as he lay on his back. When Madame Lebrun
complained that it was so dull coming back to the city;
that she saw so few people now; that even Victor, when he came
up from the island for a day or two, had so much to occupy him
and engage his time; then it was that the youth went into
contortions on the lounge and winked mischievously at Edna.
She somehow felt like a confederate in crime, and tried to look
severe and disapproving.
There had been but two letters from Robert, with little in
them, they told her. Victor said it was really not worth while to
go inside for the letters, when his mother entreated him to go in
search of them. He remembered the contents, which in truth he
rattled off very glibly when put to the test.
One letter was written from Vera Cruz and the other from the
City of Mexico. He had met Montel, who was doing everything toward
his advancement. So far, the financial situation was no