It was Victor who opened the gate for her. A black woman, wiping her
hands upon her apron, was close at his heels. Before she saw them Edna
could hear them in altercation, the woman--plainly an anomaly--claiming
the right to be allowed to perform her duties, one of which was to
answer the bell.
Victor was surprised and delighted to see Mrs. Pontellier, and he made
no attempt to conceal either his astonishment or his delight. He was a
dark-browed, good-looking youngster of nineteen, greatly resembling
his mother, but with ten times her impetuosity. He instructed the
black woman to go at once and inform Madame Lebrun that Mrs. Pontellier
desired to see her. The woman grumbled a refusal to do part of her duty
when she had not been permitted to do it all, and started back to her
interrupted task of weeding the garden. Whereupon Victor administered
a rebuke in the form of a volley of abuse, which, owing to its rapidity
and incoherence, was all but incomprehensible to Edna. Whatever it
was, the rebuke was convincing, for the woman dropped her hoe and went
mumbling into the house.
Edna did not wish to enter. It was very pleasant there on the side
porch, where there were chairs, a wicker lounge, and a small table. She
seated herself, for she was tired from her long tramp; and she began to
rock gently and smooth out the folds of her silk parasol. Victor drew
up his chair beside her. He at once explained that the black woman's
offensive conduct was all due to imperfect training, as he was not there
to take her in hand. He had only come up from the island the morning
before, and expected to return next day. He stayed all winter at the
island; he lived there, and kept the place in order and got things ready
for the summer visitors.
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.