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."

XXIV

Edna and her father had a warm, and almost violent dispute upon the
subject of her refusal to attend her sister's wedding. Mr. Pontellier
declined to interfere, to interpose either his influence or his
authority. He was following Doctor Mandelet's advice, and letting her do
as she liked. The Colonel reproached his daughter for her lack of
filial kindness and respect, her want of sisterly affection and womanly
consideration. His arguments were labored and unconvincing. He doubted
if Janet would accept any excuse--forgetting that Edna had offered
none. He doubted if Janet would ever speak to her again, and he was sure
Margaret would not.

Edna was glad to be rid of her father when he finally took himself
off with his wedding garments and his bridal gifts, with his padded
shoulders, his Bible reading, his "toddies" and ponderous oaths.

Mr. Pontellier followed him closely. He meant to