The Awakening and Selected Short Stories - Page 54/161

The Pontelliers possessed a very charming home on Esplanade Street in

New Orleans. It was a large, double cottage, with a broad front veranda,

whose round, fluted columns supported the sloping roof. The house was

painted a dazzling white; the outside shutters, or jalousies, were

green. In the yard, which was kept scrupulously neat, were flowers and

plants of every description which flourishes in South Louisiana. Within

doors the appointments were perfect after the conventional type. The

softest carpets and rugs covered the floors; rich and tasteful draperies

hung at doors and windows. There were paintings, selected with judgment

and discrimination, upon the walls. The cut glass, the silver, the heavy

damask which daily appeared upon the table were the envy of many women

whose husbands were less generous than Mr. Pontellier.

Mr. Pontellier was very fond of walking about his house examining its

various appointments and details, to see that nothing was amiss. He

greatly valued his possessions, chiefly because they were his, and

derived genuine pleasure from contemplating a painting, a statuette, a

rare lace curtain--no matter what--after he had bought it and placed it

among his household gods.

On Tuesday afternoons--Tuesday being Mrs. Pontellier's reception

day--there was a constant stream of callers--women who came in carriages

or in the street cars, or walked when the air was soft and distance

permitted. A light-colored mulatto boy, in dress coat and bearing a

diminutive silver tray for the reception of cards, admitted them. A

maid, in white fluted cap, offered the callers liqueur, coffee, or

chocolate, as they might desire. Mrs. Pontellier, attired in a handsome

reception gown, remained in the drawing-room the entire afternoon

receiving her visitors. Men sometimes called in the evening with their

wives.

This had been the programme which Mrs. Pontellier had religiously

followed since her marriage, six years before. Certain evenings during

the week she and her husband attended the opera or sometimes the play.

Mr. Pontellier left his home in the mornings between nine and ten

o'clock, and rarely returned before half-past six or seven in the

evening--dinner being served at half-past seven.

He and his wife seated themselves at table one Tuesday evening, a few

weeks after their return from Grand Isle. They were alone together.

The boys were being put to bed; the patter of their bare, escaping

feet could be heard occasionally, as well as the pursuing voice of the

quadroon, lifted in mild protest and entreaty. Mrs. Pontellier did not

wear her usual Tuesday reception gown; she was in ordinary house dress.

Mr. Pontellier, who was observant about such things, noticed it, as he

served the soup and handed it to the boy in waiting.