Edna looked in at the drug store. Monsieur Ratignolle was putting up
a mixture himself, very carefully, dropping a red liquid into a tiny
glass. He was grateful to Edna for having come; her presence would be
a comfort to his wife. Madame Ratignolle's sister, who had always been
with her at such trying times, had not been able to come up from the
plantation, and Adele had been inconsolable until Mrs. Pontellier so
kindly promised to come to her. The nurse had been with them at night
for the past week, as she lived a great distance away. And Dr. Mandelet
had been coming and going all the afternoon. They were then looking for
him any moment.
Edna hastened upstairs by a private stairway that led from the rear of
the store to the apartments above. The children were all sleeping in a
back room. Madame Ratignolle was in the salon, whither she had strayed
in her suffering impatience. She sat on the sofa, clad in an ample
white peignoir, holding a handkerchief tight in her hand with a nervous
clutch. Her face was drawn and pinched, her sweet blue eyes haggard and
unnatural. All her beautiful hair had been drawn back and plaited. It
lay in a long braid on the sofa pillow, coiled like a golden serpent.
The nurse, a comfortable looking Griffe woman in white apron and cap,
was urging her to return to her bedroom.
"There is no use, there is no use," she said at once to Edna. "We must
get rid of Mandelet; he is getting too old and careless. He said he
would be here at half-past seven; now it must be eight. See what time it
is, Josephine."
The woman was possessed of a cheerful nature, and refused to take any
situation too seriously, especially a situation with which she was so
familiar. She urged Madame to have courage and patience. But Madame only
set her teeth hard into her under lip, and Edna saw the sweat gather
in beads on her white forehead. After a moment or two she uttered a
profound sigh and wiped her face with the handkerchief rolled in a
ball. She appeared exhausted. The nurse gave her a fresh handkerchief,
sprinkled with cologne water.
"This is too much!" she cried. "Mandelet ought to be killed! Where is
Alphonse? Is it possible I am to be abandoned like this--neglected by
every one?"
"Neglected, indeed!" exclaimed the nurse. Wasn't she there? And here was
Mrs. Pontellier leaving, no doubt, a pleasant evening at home to devote
to her? And wasn't Monsieur Ratignolle coming that very instant through
the hall? And Josephine was quite sure she had heard Doctor Mandelet's
coupe. Yes, there it was, down at the door.