After a little while, a few days, in fact, Edna went up and spent a week
with her children in Iberville. They were delicious February days, with
all the summer's promise hovering in the air.
How glad she was to see the children! She wept for very pleasure when
she felt their little arms clasping her; their hard, ruddy cheeks
pressed against her own glowing cheeks. She looked into their faces with
hungry eyes that could not be satisfied with looking. And what stories
they had to tell their mother! About the pigs, the cows, the mules!
About riding to the mill behind Gluglu; fishing back in the lake with
their Uncle Jasper; picking pecans with Lidie's little black brood, and
hauling chips in their express wagon. It was a thousand times more fun
to haul real chips for old lame Susie's real fire than to drag painted
blocks along the banquette on Esplanade Street!
She went with them herself to see the pigs and the cows, to look at the
darkies laying the cane, to thrash the pecan trees, and catch fish in
the back lake. She lived with them a whole week long, giving them all of
herself, and gathering and filling herself with their young existence.
They listened, breathless, when she told them the house in Esplanade
Street was crowded with workmen, hammering, nailing, sawing, and filling
the place with clatter. They wanted to know where their bed was; what
had been done with their rocking-horse; and where did Joe sleep, and
where had Ellen gone, and the cook? But, above all, they were fired with
a desire to see the little house around the block. Was there any
place to play? Were there any boys next door? Raoul, with pessimistic
foreboding, was convinced that there were only girls next door. Where
would they sleep, and where would papa sleep? She told them the fairies
would fix it all right.
The old Madame was charmed with Edna's visit, and showered all manner
of delicate attentions upon her. She was delighted to know that the
Esplanade Street house was in a dismantled condition. It gave her the
promise and pretext to keep the children indefinitely.
It was with a wrench and a pang that Edna left her children. She carried
away with her the sound of their voices and the touch of their cheeks.
All along the journey homeward their presence lingered with her like the
memory of a delicious song. But by the time she had regained the city
the song no longer echoed in her soul. She was again alone.