CHAPTER ONE

Outside the door, a parrot in a cage repeated again and again in French, "Allez vous-en! Sapristi! That's OK!"

He spoke a little Spanish, as well, and some other language unfamiliar to the human ear. On the other side of the door there was a mocking-bird, which kept whistling in a high voice without stopping.

Mr Pontellier had been sitting in front of the main house with a newspaper, but couldn't read with all the noise. He got up from his chair with an angry, impatient face and walked away. The birds belonged to Madame Lebrun, so they could make as much noise as they wanted. He walked four doors down to his cottage and sat in a rocking chair out front. Once again he tried to read the newspaper. It was Sunday. The newspaper was from the day before, for Sunday's paper had not arrived yet. He was already familiar with the market reports. He read the editorials and some news, which he had not had an opportunity to read the day before when he was leaving New Orleans.

Mr Pontellier was 40 years old. He wore glasses, was of medium height and quite slim, but walked with a bowed back. He had straight, brown hair and a tidy beard.

Now and then his eyes moved away from the paper and looked around. There was even more noise now over at the house. The main building on Grand Isle was called "The House", in order to separate it from all the little cottages that surrounded it. The birds were still there, singing and chirping, and the two Farival girls were playing the piano. Madame Lebrun rushed in and out, ordering around the gardener and the dining-room servant in a high voice. She was pretty and always dressed in white clothing. Further away, in front of one of the homes, a woman wearing black was walking quietly and praying to her beads. Those who had not taken Mr Beaudelet's boat to go to church earlier that morning were playing croquet in the nearby fields. Among them were two of Mr Pontellier's own boys.

As Mr Pontellier started to smoke, he saw an umbrella approaching from the beach. The distance between him and the umbrella seemed large through the trees. Underneath the umbrella were his wife and Robert Lebrun, Madame Lebrun's son. They seemed tired when they finally arrived at the cottage and took their seats.

"You must be crazy!" Mr Pontellier shouted, "Swimming at this late hour when the sun is so hot!" He had swum much earlier in the day, at sunrise.

"Your skin burned so much that I can't even recognize you!" Mr Pontellier said, looking at his wife as if his precious treasure had just been destroyed. She raised her arms and carefully looked at her hands. This reminded her that she had given her rings to her husband before going to the beach. Without saying anything she put out her hand. Mr Pontellier understood what she meant and took the rings out from his shirt and put them in her hand. Looking at Robert, she placed them on her fingers and started to laugh. He gave her a secret smile in return.

"What's this smile of yours?" Mr Pontellier asked, looking at both of them. It was something silly, something that had happened while they were in the water. They tried to tell him about it, but in the middle of the story realized it was not as funny as they had remembered. Mr Pontellier stood up and told them that he wanted to go play pool.

"Come on, Robert!" he suggested. But Robert told him that he would rather stay and talk with Mrs Pontellier.

"Send him away when you finish with him," said Mr Pontellier as he was leaving.

Handing him her umbrella, Edna asked: "Are you coming back for dinner?" He answered by raising his shoulders momentarily and then letting them drop. He didn't know. Maybe he would, maybe he would not. It depended on how the game was.

(end of section)