CHAPTER EIGHT

"Would you do something for me, Robert?" Madame Ratignolle asked on their way back home.

"Whatever you say!" Robert answered her, noticing the seriousness in her face.

"It's quite simple, actually. Don't encourage Mrs Pontellier! Don't bother her anymore."

"Ha ha! Madame Ratignolle is jealous!" Robert laughed.

"Really, I'm serious now. Don't bother her any longer."

"Why?" Robert asked, the smile leaving his face.

"She is not the same as us. She might not realize that you're joking with her when you say the things that you say."

"Is everything I say supposed to be a joke?" Robert said, a little angrily, "Am I here to simply entertain everyone? Maybe I want someone to be serious with me for once!"

"Robert, stop!" She interrupted, "Listen to what you're saying. You make about as much sense as one of those children you were walking with a few minutes ago. People don't take you seriously because they know you're not a bad person. People trust you. The way you behave with married women would be wrong if you were serious about it."

"Such things are not nice to say to a man!" Robert said, throwing his hat back onto his head.

"Then I guess our whole friendship should be built upon nothing but praise for one another?"

"Well, it's not fun hearing such things from a woman ... " He said, suddenly stopping. Then he began to change the subject, talking about the story of the famous French singer who once got involved in a relationship he should have avoided.

Before Madame Ratignolle went into her cottage to take a rest, Robert apologized politely for his behavior. He meant to express that he understood her advice.

"However, I think it's more possible that I will take myself seriously before she does. But I appreciate your suggestion. It will certainly make me think about my behavior in the future. Are you tired? Why don't I make you a drink and a bowl of hot soup? It will help you to relax."

She accepted his offer and went into her home to wait, while he ran to the kitchen to prepare the food for her. A little while later, he reappeared, carrying a brown bowl.

"You're a good boy, Robert," she said, taking the bowl from his hands.

He thanked her and then walked back out into the sunshine.

People could now be seen returning from the beach, but Mrs Pontellier and the kids were not among them. Robert was pretty sure that they would not be back until dinner. He then decided to look for her from the window of his mother's bedroom, which overlooked the beach area.

Madame Lebrun was using her sewing machine with the help of a young black girl. Robert took a seat on the windowsill and began to try reading a book. Madame Lebrun's machine was very noisy, for it was an old model. During her breaks, she and her son would casually talk.

"Is Mrs Pontellier around?" she asked.

"No, she's at the beach. What's the matter?"

"I wanted to let her borrow one of my books by Goncourt. Could you give it to her the next time you see her?"

Then after about ten minutes of more sewing noise, she spoke again.

"Is Victor taking the car?"

"Huh? The car?"

"Quick! Yell to him before he goes!"

Both Robert and Madame Lebrun attempted to get young Victor's attention. They screamed, yelled, and even whistled, but he refused to look up at them. Eventually, he drove away. Madam Lebrun became angry and went back to her sewing with a red face. Victor was the youngest boy of the Lebrun family. He was very uncooperative and stubborn. He always did what he wanted whether his mother approved or not.

"If you'd let me, I'd be happy to beat some sense into him!" said Robert.

"I just wish your father were still alive," Madame Lebrun said before returning to her sewing. She believed that the whole world would be a better place if her husband had not died.

"Did Montel write you a letter?" asked Robert. Montel, for the past twenty years, had been making efforts to replace the dead Mr Lebrun.

"Yes, he did. It's somewhere around here. He mentioned something about meeting you in Vera Cruz next month."

"And you're just now telling me? Why did you wait so long?"

"Has Mrs Pontellier returned from the beach, yet? I can't imagine her not coming back for lunch."

"Where's the book you wanted to lend her?"

(end of section)