he house was occupied by a
respectable family of mulattoes who had chambres garnies to let. They
had been living there for six months, and knew absolutely nothing of
a Mademoiselle Reisz. In fact, they knew nothing of any of their
neighbors; their lodgers were all people of the highest distinction,
they assured Edna. She did not linger to discuss class distinctions with
Madame Pouponne, but hastened to a neighboring grocery store, feeling
sure that Mademoiselle would have left her address with the proprietor.

He knew Mademoiselle Reisz a good deal better than he wanted to know
her, he informed his questioner. In truth, he did not want to know her
at all, or anything concerning her--the most disagreeable and unpopular
woman who ever lived in Bienville Street. He thanked heaven she had left
the neighborhood, and was equally thankful that he did not know where
she had gone.

Edna's desire to see Mademoiselle Reisz had increased tenfold since
these unlooked-for obstacles had arisen to thwart it. She was wondering
who could give her the information she sought, when it suddenly occurred
to her that Madame Lebrun would be the one most likely to do so. She
knew it was useless to ask Madame Ratignolle, who was on the most
distant terms with the musician, and preferred to know nothing
concerning her. She had once been almost as emphatic in expressing
herself upon the subject as the corner grocer.

Edna knew that Madame Lebrun had returned to the city, for it was
the middle of November. And she also knew where the Lebruns lived, on
Chartres Street.

Their home from the outside looked like a prison, with iron bars before
the door and lower windows. The iron bars were a relic of the old
regime, and no one had ever thought of dislodging them. At the side
was a high fence enclosing the garden. A gate or door opening upon the
street was locked. Edna rang the bell at this side garden gate, and
stood upon the banquette, waiting to be admitted.

It was Victor who opened the gate for her. A black woman, wiping her
hands upon her apron, was close at his heels. Before she saw them Edna
could hear them in altercation, the woman--plainly an anomaly--claiming
the right to be allowed to perform her duties, one of which was to
answer the bell.

Victor was surprised and delighted to see Mrs. Pontellier, and he made
no attempt to conceal either his astonishment or his delight. He was a
dark-browed, good-looking youngster of nineteen, greatl