It was eleven o'clock that night when Mr. Pontellier returned from

Klein's hotel. He was in an excellent humor, in high spirits, and very

talkative. His entrance awoke his wife, who was in bed and fast asleep

when he came in. He talked to her while he undressed, telling her

anecdotes and bits of news and gossip that he had gathered during the

day. From his trousers pockets he took a fistful of crumpled bank

notes and a good deal of silver coin, which he piled on the bureau

indiscriminately with keys, knife, handkerchief, and whatever else

happened to be in his pockets. She was overcome with sleep, and answered

him with little half utterances.

He thought it very discouraging that his wife, who was the sole object

of his existence, evinced so little interest in things which concerned

him, and valued so little his conversation.

Mr. Pontellier had forgotten the bonbons and peanuts for the boys.

Notwithstanding he loved them very much, and went into the adjoining

room where they slept to take a look at them and make sure that they

were resting comfortably. The result of his investigation was far from

satisfactory. He turned and shifted the youngsters about in bed. One of

them began to kick and talk about a basket full of crabs.

Mr. Pontellier returned to his wife with the information that Raoul had

a high fever and needed looking after. Then he lit a cigar and went and

sat near the open door to smoke it.

Mrs. Pontellier was quite sure Raoul had no fever. He had gone to

bed perfectly well, she said, and nothing had ailed him all day. Mr.

Pontellier was too well acquainted with fever symptoms to be mistaken.

He assured her the child was consuming at that moment in the next room.

He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the

children. If it was not a mother's place to look after children, whose

on earth was it? He himself had his hands full with his brokerage

business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for

his family on the street, and staying at home to see that no harm befell

them. He talked in a monotonous, insistent way.

Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went into the next room. She soon

came back and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head down on the

pillow. She said nothing, and refused to answer her husband when he

questioned her. When his cigar was smoked out he went to bed, and in

half a minute he was fast asleep.




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