The Awakening and Selected Short Stories - Page 41/161

Madame Antoine had laid some coarse, clean towels upon a chair, and had

placed a box of poudre de riz within easy reach. Edna dabbed the powder

upon her nose and cheeks as she looked at herself closely in the little

distorted mirror which hung on the wall above the basin. Her eyes were

bright and wide awake and her face glowed.

When she had completed her toilet she walked into the adjoining room.

She was very hungry. No one was there. But there was a cloth spread upon

the table that stood against the wall, and a cover was laid for one,

with a crusty brown loaf and a bottle of wine beside the plate. Edna bit

a piece from the brown loaf, tearing it with her strong, white teeth.

She poured some of the wine into the glass and drank it down. Then she

went softly out of doors, and plucking an orange from the low-hanging

bough of a tree, threw it at Robert, who did not know she was awake and

up.

An illumination broke over his whole face when he saw her and joined her

under the orange tree.

"How many years have I slept?" she inquired. "The whole island seems

changed. A new race of beings must have sprung up, leaving only you and

me as past relics. How many ages ago did Madame Antoine and Tonie die?

and when did our people from Grand Isle disappear from the earth?"

He familiarly adjusted a ruffle upon her shoulder.

"You have slept precisely one hundred years. I was left here to guard

your slumbers; and for one hundred years I have been out under the shed

reading a book. The only evil I couldn't prevent was to keep a broiled

fowl from drying up."

"If it has turned to stone, still will I eat it," said Edna, moving with

him into the house. "But really, what has become of Monsieur Farival and

the others?"

"Gone hours ago. When they found that you were sleeping they thought

it best not to awake you. Anyway, I wouldn't have let them. What was I

here for?"

"I wonder if Leonce will be uneasy!" she speculated, as she seated

herself at table.

"Of course not; he knows you are with me," Robert replied, as he

busied himself among sundry pans and covered dishes which had been left

standing on the hearth.

"Where are Madame Antoine and her son?" asked Edna.

"Gone to Vespers, and to visit some friends, I believe. I am to take you

back in Tonie's boat whenever you are ready to go."

He stirred the smoldering ashes till the broiled fowl began to sizzle

afresh. He served her with no mean repast, dripping the coffee anew

and sharing it with her. Madame Antoine had cooked little else than

the mullets, but while Edna slept Robert had foraged the island. He was

childishly gratified to discover her appetite, and to see the relish

with which she ate the food which he had procured for her.