Short Fiction Kate Chopin (best e reader for android .txt) đ
- Author: Kate Chopin
Book online «Short Fiction Kate Chopin (best e reader for android .txt) đ». Author Kate Chopin
She dwelt alone in her solitary cabin, for the rest of the quarters had long since been removed beyond her sight and knowledge. She had more physical strength than most men, and made her patch of cotton and corn and tobacco like the best of them. But of the world beyond the bayou she had long known nothing, save what her morbid fancy conceived.
People at Bellissime had grown used to her and her way, and they thought nothing of it. Even when âOld Misâââ died, they did not wonder that La Folle had not crossed the bayou, but had stood upon her side of it, wailing and lamenting.
Pâtit MaĂźtre was now the owner of Bellissime. He was a middle-aged man, with a family of beautiful daughters about him, and a little son whom La Folle loved as if he had been her own. She called him ChĂ©ri, and so did everyone else because she did.
None of the girls had ever been to her what ChĂ©ri was. They had each and all loved to be with her, and to listen to her wondrous stories of things that always happened âyonda, beyonâ de bayou.â
But none of them had stroked her black hand quite as Chéri did, nor rested their heads against her knee so confidingly, nor fallen asleep in her arms as he used to do. For Chéri hardly did such things now, since he had become the proud possessor of a gun, and had had his black curls cut off.
That summerâ âthe summer ChĂ©ri gave La Folle two black curls tied with a knot of red ribbonâ âthe water ran so low in the bayou that even the little children at Bellissime were able to cross it on foot, and the cattle were sent to pasture down by the river. La Folle was sorry when they were gone, for she loved these dumb companions well, and liked to feel that they were there, and to hear them browsing by night up to her own inclosure.
It was Saturday afternoon, when the fields were deserted. The men had flocked to a neighboring village to do their weekâs trading, and the women were occupied with household affairsâ âLa Folle as well as the others. It was then she mended and washed her handful of clothes, scoured her house, and did her baking.
In this last employment she never forgot ChĂ©ri. Today she had fashioned croquignoles of the most fantastic and alluring shapes for him. So when she saw the boy come trudging across the old field with his gleaming little new rifle on his shoulder, she called out gayly to him, âChĂ©ri! ChĂ©ri!â
But ChĂ©ri did not need the summons, for he was coming straight to her. His pockets all bulged out with almonds and raisins and an orange that he had secured for her from the very fine dinner which had been given that day up at his fatherâs house.
He was a sunny-faced youngster of ten. When he had emptied his pockets, La Folle patted his round red cheek, wiped his soiled hands on her apron, and smoothed his hair. Then she watched him as, with his cakes in his hand, he crossed her strip of cotton back of the cabin, and disappeared into the wood.
He had boasted of the things he was going to do with his gun out there.
âYou think they got plenty deer in the wood, La Folle?â he had inquired, with the calculating air of an experienced hunter.
âNon, non!â the woman laughed. âDonât you look foâ no deer, ChĂ©ri. Datâs too big. But you bring La Folle one good fat squirrel foâ her dinner tomorrow, anâ she goinâ be satisfiâ.â
âOne squirrel ainât a bite. Iâll bring you moâ âan one, La Folle,â he had boasted pompously as he went away.
When the woman, an hour later, heard the report of the boyâs rifle close to the woodâs edge, she would have thought nothing of it if a sharp cry of distress had not followed the sound.
She withdrew her arms from the tub of suds in which they had been plunged, dried them upon her apron, and as quickly as her trembling limbs would bear her, hurried to the spot whence the ominous report had come.
It was as she feared. There she found ChĂ©ri stretched upon the ground, with his rifle beside him. He moaned piteously:â â
âIâm dead, La Folle! Iâm dead! Iâm gone!â
âNon, non!â she exclaimed resolutely, as she knelt beside him. âPut youâ arm ârounâ La Folleâs nake, ChĂ©ri. Datâs nuttinâ; dat goinâ be nuttinâ.â She lifted him in her powerful arms.
ChĂ©ri had carried his gun muzzle-downward. He had stumbledâ âhe did not know how. He only knew that he had a ball lodged somewhere in his leg, and he thought that his end was at hand. Now, with his head upon the womanâs shoulder, he moaned and wept with pain and fright.
âOh, La Folle! La Folle! it hurt so bad! I canâ stanâ it, La Folle!â
âDonât cry, mon bĂ©bĂ©, mon bĂ©bĂ©, mon ChĂ©ri!â the woman spoke soothingly as she covered the ground with long strides. âLa Folle goinâ mine you; Doctor Bonfils goinâ come make mon ChĂ©ri well agin.â
She had reached the abandoned field. As she crossed it with her precious burden, she looked constantly and restlessly from side to side. A terrible fear was upon herâ âthe fear of the world beyond the bayou, the morbid and insane dread she had been under since childhood.
When she was at the bayouâs edge she stood there, and shouted for help as if a life depended upon it:â â
âOh, Pâtit MaĂźtre! Pâtit MaĂźtre! Venez donc! Au secours! Au secours!â
No voice responded. ChĂ©riâs hot tears were scalding her neck. She called for each and every one upon the place, and still no answer came.
She shouted, she wailed; but whether her voice remained unheard or unheeded, no reply came to her frenzied cries. And
Comments (0)