Short Fiction Kate Chopin (best e reader for android .txt) đ
- Author: Kate Chopin
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âThatâs wây I wake you up, to tell you,â she continued. âThen sometimeâ he plague me mosâ crazy; he tell meât ent no preacher, itâs a Texas drummer wâat marry him anâ me; anâ wâen I donâ know wâat way to turn no moâ, he say no, itâs a Methâdisâ archbishop, anâ keep on laughinâ âbout me, anâ I donâ know wâat the truth!â
Then again, she told how Bud had induced her to mount the vicious little mustang âBuckeye,â knowing that the little brute wouldnât carry a woman; and how it had amused him to witness her distress and terror when she was thrown to the ground.
âIf I would know how to read anâ write, anâ had some pencil anâ paper, itâs long âgo I would wrote to my popa. But itâs no posâ-office, itâs no relroadâ ânothinâ in Sabine. Anâ you know, Mista GrĂ©goire, Bud say heâs goinâ carry me yonda to Vernon, anâ fuâther off yetâ ââway yonda, anâ heâs goinâ turn me loose. Oh, donâ leave me yere, Mista GrĂ©goire! donâ leave me behine you!â she entreated, breaking once more into sobs.
âââTite Reine,â he answered, âdo you think Iâm such a low-down scoundâel as to leave you yere with thatââ âHe finished the sentence mentally, not wishing to offend the ears of âTite Reine.
They talked on a good while after that. She would not return to the room where her husband lay; the nearness of a friend had already emboldened her to inward revolt. Grégoire induced her to lie down and rest upon the quilt that she had given to him for a bed. She did so, and broken down by fatigue was soon fast asleep.
He stayed seated on the edge of the gallery and began to smoke cigarettes which he rolled himself of perique tobacco. He might have gone in and shared Bud Aikenâs bed, but preferred to stay there near âTite Reine. He watched the two horses, tramping slowly about the lot, cropping the dewy wet tufts of grass.
Grégoire smoked on. He only stopped when the moon sank down behind the pine-trees, and the long deep shadow reached out and enveloped him. Then he could no longer see and follow the filmy smoke from his cigarette, and he threw it away. Sleep was pressing heavily upon him. He stretched himself full length upon the rough bare boards of the gallery and slept until daybreak.
Bud Aikenâs satisfaction was very genuine when he learned that GrĂ©goire proposed spending the day and another night with him. He had already recognized in the young creole a spirit not altogether uncongenial to his own.
âTite Reine cooked breakfast for them. She made coffee; of course there was no milk to add to it, but there was sugar. From a meal bag that stood in the corner of the room she took a measure of meal, and with it made a pone of corn bread. She fried slices of salt pork. Then Bud sent her into the field to pick cotton with old Uncle Mortimer. The negroâs cabin was the counterpart of their own, but stood quite a distance away hidden in the woods. He and Aiken worked the crop on shares.
Early in the day Bud produced a grimy pack of cards from behind a parcel of sugar on the shelf. GrĂ©goire threw the cards into the fire and replaced them with a spic and span new âdeckâ that he took from his saddlebags. He also brought forth from the same receptacle a bottle of whiskey, which he presented to his host, saying that he himself had no further use for it, as he had âsworn offâ since day before yesterday, when he had made a fool of himself in Cloutierville.
They sat at the pine table smoking and playing cards all the morning, only desisting when âTite Reine came to serve them with the gumbo-filĂ© that she had come out of the field to cook at noon. She could afford to treat a guest to chicken gumbo, for she owned a half dozen chickens that Uncle Mortimer had presented to her at various times. There were only two spoons, and âTite Reine had to wait till the men had finished before eating her soup. She waited for GrĂ©goireâs spoon, though her husband was the first to get through. It was a very childish whim.
In the afternoon she picked cotton again; and the men played cards, smoked, and Bud drank.
It was a very long time since Bud Aiken had enjoyed himself so well, and since he had encountered so sympathetic and appreciative a listener to the story of his eventful career. The story of âTite Reineâs fall from the horse he told with much spirit, mimicking quite skillfully the way in which she had complained of never being permitted âto teck a liâle pleasure,â whereupon he had kindly suggested horseback riding. GrĂ©goire enjoyed the story amazingly, which encouraged Aiken to relate many more of a similar character. As the afternoon wore on, all formality of address between the two had disappeared: they were âBudâ and âGrĂ©goireâ to each other, and GrĂ©goire had delighted Aikenâs soul by promising to spend a week with him. âTite Reine was also touched by the spirit of recklessness in the air; it moved her to fry two chickens for supper. She fried them deliciously in bacon fat. After supper
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