第40章

The Colonel drank numerous "toddies" during the course of the day, which left him, however, imperturbed.He was an expert at concocting strong drinks.He had even invented some, to which he had given fantastic names, and for whose manufacture he required diverse ingredients that it devolved upon Edna to procure for him.

When Doctor Mandelet dined with the Pontelliers on Thursday he could discern in Mrs.Pontellier no trace of that morbid condition which her husband had reported to him.She was excited and in a manner radiant.She and her father had been to the race course, and their thoughts when they seated themselves at table were still occupied with the events of the afternoon, and their talk was still of the track.The Doctor had not kept pace with turf affairs.He had certain recollections of racing in what he called "the good old times" when the Lecompte stablesflourished, and he drew upon this fund of memories so that he might not be left out and seem wholly devoid of the modern spirit.But he failed to impose upon the Colonel, and was even far from impressing him with this trumped-up knowledge of bygone days.Edna had staked her father on his last venture, with the most gratifying results to both of them.Besides, they had met some very charming people, according to the Colonel's impressions.Mrs.Mortimer Merriman and Mrs.James Highcamp, who were there with Alcee Arobin, had joined them and had enlivened the hours in a fashion that warmed him to think of.

Mr.Pontellier himself had no particular leaning toward horseracing, and was even rather inclined to discourage it as a pastime, especially when he considered the fate of that blue-grass farm in Kentucky.He endeavored, in a general way, to express a particular disapproval, and only succeeded in arousing the ire and opposition of his father-in-law.A pretty dispute followed, in which Edna warmly espoused her father's cause and the Doctor remained neutral.

He observed his hostess attentively from under his shaggy brows, and noted a subtle change which had transformed her from the listless woman he had known into a being who, for the moment, seemed palpitant with the forces of life.Her speech was warm and energetic.There was no repression in her glance or gesture.She reminded him of some beautiful, sleek animal waking up in the sun.

The dinner was excellent.The claret was warm and the champagne was cold, and under their beneficent influence the threatened unpleasantness melted and vanished with the fumes of the wine.

Mr.Pontellier warmed up and grew reminiscent.He told some amusing plantation experiences, recollections of old Iberville and his youth, when he hunted `possum in company with some friendly darky; thrashed the pecan trees, shot the grosbec, and roamed the woods and fields in mischievous idleness.

The Colonel, with little sense of humor and of the fitness of things, related a somber episode of those dark and bitter days, in which he had acted a conspicuous part and always formed a central figure.Nor was the Doctor happier in his selection, when he told the old, ever new andcurious story of the waning of a woman's love, seeking strange, new channels, only to return to its legitimate source after days of fierce unrest.It was one of the many little human documents which had been unfolded to him during his long career as a physician.The story did not seem especially to impress Edna.She had one of her own to tell, of a woman who paddled away with her lover one night in a pirogue and never came back.They were lost amid the Baratarian Islands, and no one ever heard of them or found trace of them from that day to this.It was a pure invention.She said that Madame Antoine had related it to her.That, also, was an invention.Perhaps it was a dream she had had.But every glowing word seemed real to those who listened.They could feel the hot breath of the Southern night; they could hear the long sweep of the pirogue through the glistening moonlit water, the beating of birds' wings, rising startled from among the reeds in the salt-water pools; they could see the faces of the lovers, pale, close together, rapt in oblivious forgetfulness, drifting into the unknown.

The champagne was cold, and its subtle fumes played fantastic tricks with Edna's memory that night.

Outside, away from the glow of the fire and the soft lamplight, the night was chill and murky.The Doctor doubled his old-fashioned cloak across his breast as he strode home through the darkness.He knew his fellow-creatures better than most men; knew that inner life which so seldom unfolds itself to unanointed* eyes.He was sorry he had accepted Pontellier's invitation.He was growing old, and beginning to need rest and an imperturbed spirit.He did not want the secrets of other lives thrust upon him.

"I hope it isn't Arobin," he muttered to himself as he walked."I hope to heaven it isn't Alcee Arobin."