The Awakening and Selected Short Stories - Page 120/161

Adele consented to go back to her room. She sat on the edge of a little

low couch next to her bed.

Doctor Mandelet paid no attention to Madame Ratignolle's upbraidings. He

was accustomed to them at such times, and was too well convinced of her

loyalty to doubt it.

He was glad to see Edna, and wanted her to go with him into the salon

and entertain him. But Madame Ratignolle would not consent that Edna

should leave her for an instant. Between agonizing moments, she chatted

a little, and said it took her mind off her sufferings.

Edna began to feel uneasy. She was seized with a vague dread. Her own

like experiences seemed far away, unreal, and only half remembered. She

recalled faintly an ecstasy of pain, the heavy odor of chloroform, a

stupor which had deadened sensation, and an awakening to find a little

new life to which she had given being, added to the great unnumbered

multitude of souls that come and go.

She began to wish she had not come; her presence was not necessary. She

might have invented a pretext for staying away; she might even invent a

pretext now for going. But Edna did not go. With an inward agony, with a

flaming, outspoken revolt against the ways of Nature, she witnessed the

scene of torture.

She was still stunned and speechless with emotion when later she leaned

over her friend to kiss her and softly say good-by. Adele, pressing her

cheek, whispered in an exhausted voice: "Think of the children, Edna. Oh

think of the children! Remember them!"