The Awakening Other Short Stories | Page 3

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The Awakening and Selected Short Stories by Kate Chopin
With an Introduction by Marilynne Robinson

THE AWAKENING

I

A green and yellow parrot, which hung in a cage outside the door, kept repeating over
and over:
"Allez vous-en! Allez vous-en! Sapristi! That's all right!"
He could speak a little Spanish, and also a language which nobody understood, unless it
was the mocking-bird that hung on the other side of the door, whistling his fluty notes out
upon the breeze with maddening persistence.
Mr. Pontellier, unable to read his newspaper with any degree of comfort, arose with an
expression and an exclamation of disgust.
He walked down the gallery and across the narrow "bridges" which connected the Lebrun
cottages one with the other. He had been seated before the door of the main house. The
parrot and the mockingbird were the property of Madame Lebrun, and they had the right
to make all the noise they wished. Mr. Pontellier had the privilege of quitting their
society when they ceased to be entertaining.
He stopped before the door of his own cottage, which was the fourth one from the main
building and next to the last. Seating himself in a wicker rocker which was there, he once
more applied himself to the task of reading the newspaper. The day was Sunday; the
paper was a day old. The Sunday papers had not yet reached Grand Isle. He was already
acquainted with the market reports, and he glanced restlessly over the editorials and bits

of news which he had not had time to read before quitting New Orleans the day before.
Mr. Pontellier wore eye-glasses. He was a man of forty, of medium height and rather
slender build; he stooped a little. His hair was brown and straight, parted on one side. His
beard was neatly and closely trimmed.
Once in a while he withdrew his glance from the newspaper and looked about him. There
was more noise than ever over at the house. The main building was called "the house," to
distinguish it from the cottages. The chattering and whistling birds were still at it. Two
young girls, the Farival twins, were playing a duet from "Zampa" upon the piano.
Madame Lebrun was bustling in and out, giving orders in a high key to a yard-boy
whenever she got inside the house, and directions in an equally high voice to a
dining-room servant whenever she got outside. She was a fresh, pretty woman, clad
always in white with elbow sleeves. Her starched skirts crinkled as she came and went.
Farther down, before one of the cottages, a lady in black was walking demurely up and
down, telling her beads. A good many persons of the pension had gone over to the
Cheniere Caminada in Beaudelet's lugger to hear mass. Some young people were out
under the wateroaks playing croquet. Mr. Pontellier's two children were there sturdy little
fellows of four and five. A quadroon nurse followed them about with a faraway,
meditative air.
Mr. Pontellier finally lit a cigar and began to smoke, letting the paper drag idly from his
hand. He fixed