Mrs. Pontellier had brought her sketching materials, which she sometimes
dabbled with in an unprofessional way. She liked the dabbling. She felt
in it satisfaction of a kind which no other employment afforded her.
She had long wished to try herself on Madame Ratignolle. Never had that
lady seemed a more tempting subject than at that moment, seated there
like some sensuous Madonna, with the gleam of the fading day enriching
her splendid color.
Robert crossed over and seated himself upon the step below Mrs.
Pontellier, that he might watch her work. She handled her brushes with
a certain ease and freedom which came, not from long and close
acquaintance with them, but from a natural aptitude. Robert followed her
work with close attention, giving forth little ejaculatory expressions
of appreciation in French, which he addressed to Madame Ratignolle.
"Mais ce n'est pas mal! Elle s'y connait, elle a de la force, oui."
During his oblivious attention he once quietly rested his head against
Mrs. Pontellier's arm. As gently she repulsed him. Once again he
repeated the offense. She could not but believe it to be thoughtlessness
on his part; yet that was no reason she should submit to it. She did not
remonstrate, except again to repulse him quietly but firmly. He
offered no apology. The picture completed bore no resemblance to Madame
Ratignolle. She was greatly disappointed to find that it did not look
like her. But it was a fair enough piece of work, and in many respects
satisfying.
Mrs. Pontellier evidently did not think so. After surveying the sketch
critically she drew a broad smudge of paint across its surface, and
crumpled the paper between her hands.
The youngsters came tumbling up the steps, the quadroon following at the
respectful distance which they required her to observe. Mrs. Pontellier
made them carry her paints and things into the house. She sought to
detain them for a little talk and some pleasantry. But they were greatly
in earnest. They had only come to investigate the contents of the bonbon
box. They accepted without murmuring what she chose to give them, each
holding out two chubby hands scoop-like, in the vain hope that they
might be filled; and then away they went.
The sun was low in the west, and the breeze soft and languorous that
came up from the south, charged with the seductive odor of the sea.
Children freshly befurbelowed, were gathering for their games under the
oaks. Their voices were high and penetrating.
Madame Ratignolle folded her sewing, placing thimble, scissors, and
thread all neatly together in the roll, which she pinned securely. She
complained of faintness. Mrs. Pontellier flew for the cologne water and
a fan. She bathed Madame Ratignolle's face with cologne, while Robert
plied the fan with unnecessary vigor.