pension had gone over to the Cheniere Caminada in Beaudelet's lugger to hear mass. Some young people
were out under the water-oaks 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.
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Mr. Pontellier finally lit a cigar and began to smoke, letting the paper drag idly from his hand. He fixed
his gaze upon a white sunshade that was advancing at snail's pace from the beach. He could see it plainly
between the gaunt trunks of the water-oaks and across the stretch of yellow camomile. The gulf looked far
away, melting hazily into the blue of the horizon. The sunshade continued to approach slowly. Beneath its
pink-lined shelter were his wife, Mrs. Pontellier, and young Robert Lebrun. When they reached the cottage,
the two seated themselves with some appearance of fatigue upon the upper step of the porch, facing each
other, each leaning against a supporting post.
"What folly! to bathe at such an hour in such heat!" exclaimed Mr. Pontellier. He himself had taken a plunge
at daylight. That was why the morning seemed long to him.
"You are burnt beyond recognition," he added, looking at his wife as one looks at a valuable piece of
personal property which has suffered some damage. She held up
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her hands, strong, shapely hands, and surveyed them critically, drawing up her fawn sleeves above the
wrists. Looking at them reminded her of her rings, which she had given to her husband before leaving for
the beach. She silently reached out to him, and he, understanding, took the rings from his vest pocket and
dropped them into her open palm. She slipped them upon her fingers; then clasping her knees, she looked
across at Robert and began to laugh. The rings sparkled upon her fingers. He sent back an answering smile.
"What is it?" asked Pontellier, looking lazily and amused from one to the other. It was some utter nonsense;
some adventure out there in the water, and they both tried to relate it at once. It did not seem half so amusing
when told. They realized this, and so did Mr. Pontellier. He yawned and stretched himself. Then he got up,
saying he had half a mind to go over to Klein's hotel and play a game of billiards.
"Come go along, Lebrun," he proposed to Robert. But Robert admitted quite frankly
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that he preferred to stay where he was and talk to Mrs. Pontellier.
"Well, send him about his business when he bores you, Edna," instructed her husband as he prepared to
leave.
"Here, take the umbrella," she exclaimed, holding it out to him. He accepted the sunshade, and lifting it over
his head descended the steps and walked away.
"Coming back to dinner?" his wife called after him. He halted a moment and shrugged his shoulders. He felt
in his vest pocket; there was a ten-dollar bill there. He did not know; perhaps he would return for the early
dinner and perhaps he would not. It all depended upon the company which he found over at Klein's and the
size of "the game." He did not say this, but she understood it, and laughed, nodding good-by to him.
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