There was a garden out in the suburbs; a small, leafy corner, with a
few green tables under the orange trees. An old cat slept all day on the
stone step in the sun, and an old mulatresse slept her idle hours away
in her chair at the open window, till someone happened to knock on one
of the green tables. She had milk and cream cheese to sell, and bread
and butter. There was no one who could make such excellent coffee or fry
a chicken so golden brown as she.
The place was too modest to attract the attention of people of fashion,
and so quiet as to have escaped the notice of those in search of
pleasure and dissipation. Edna had discovered it accidentally one day
when the high-board gate stood ajar. She caught sight of a little green
table, blotched with the checkered sunlight that filtered through
the quivering leaves overhead. Within she had found the slumbering
mulatresse, the drowsy cat, and a glass of milk which reminded her of
the milk she had tasted in Iberville.
She often stopped there during her perambulations; sometimes taking a
book with her, and sitting an hour or two under the trees when she found
the place deserted. Once or twice she took a quiet dinner there alone,
having instructed Celestine beforehand to prepare no dinner at home. It
was the last place in the city where she would have expected to meet any
one she knew.
Still she was not astonished when, as she was partaking of a modest
dinner late in the afternoon, looking into an open book, stroking the
cat, which had made friends with her--she was not greatly astonished to
see Robert come in at the tall garden gate.
"I am destined to see you only by accident," she said, shoving the
cat off the chair beside her. He was surprised, ill at ease, almost
embarrassed at meeting her thus so unexpectedly.
"Do you come here often?" he asked.
"I almost live here," she said.
"I used to drop in very often for a cup of Catiche's good coffee. This
is the first time since I came back."
"She'll bring you a plate, and you will share my dinner. There's always
enough for two--even three." Edna had intended to be indifferent and as
reserved as he when she met him; she had reached the determination by a
laborious train of reasoning, incident to one of her despondent moods.
But her resolve melted when she saw him before designing Providence had
led him into her path.
"Why have you kept away from me, Robert?" she asked, closing the book
that lay open upon the table.