Short Fiction Kate Chopin (best e reader for android .txt) đ
- Author: Kate Chopin
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âVieumaite all time say Catârinette wortâ gole to âim; de way I make dem niggaâ walk chalk. But,â she continued, with recovered seriousness, âwâen I nuss âis liâle gal wâat all de doctorâ âlow itâs goinâ die, anâ I make it well, me, den Vieumaite, he canât do ânough, him. He nameâ dat liâle gal Catârine foâ me. Das Miss Kitty wâat marry MichĂ© Raymond yonâ by Granâ Ecoâ. Den he giâ me my freedom; he got plenty slaveâ, him; one donâ count in his pocket. Anâ he giâ me dat house wâat Iâm stanâinâ in de doâ; he got plenty houseâ anâ lanâ, him. Now dey want pay me tâousanâ dollaâ, wâat I donâ axenâ foâ, anâ tuân me out dat house! I waitinâ foâ âem, MichĂ© Paxtone,â and a wicked gleam shot into the womanâs small, dusky eyes. âI got my axe grine fine. Fusâ man wâat touch Catârinette foâ tuân her out dat house, he git âis head busâ like I busâ a gode.â
âDatâs nice day, ainty, MichĂ© Paxtone? Fine wedda foâ dry my close.â Upon the gallery above hung an array of shirts, which gleamed white in the sunshine, and flapped in the rippling breeze.
The spectacle of Tante Catârinette defying the authorities was one which offered much diversion to the children of the neighborhood. They played numberless pranks at her expense; daily serving upon her fictitious notices purporting to be to the last degree official. One youngster, in a moment of inspiration, composed a couplet, which they recited, sang, shouted at all hours, beneath her windows.
âTante Catârinette, she go in town;
Wâen she come back, her house pullâ down.â
So ran the production. She heard it many times during the day, but, far from offending her, she accepted it as a warningâ âa prediction, as it wereâ âand she took heed not to offer to fate the conditions for its fulfillment. She no longer quitted her house even for a moment, so great was her fear and so firm her belief that the town authorities were lying in wait to possess themselves of it She would not cross the street to visit a neighbor. She waylaid passers-by and pressed them into service to do her errands and small shopping. She grew distrustful and suspicious, ever on the alert to scent a plot in the most innocent endeavor to induce her to leave the house.
One morning, as Tante Catârinette was hanging out her latest batch of washing, EusĂšbe, a âfree mulattoâ from Red River, stopped his pony beneath her gallery.
âHĂ©, Tante Catârinette!â he called up to her.
She turned to the railing just as she was, in her bare arms and neck that gleamed ebony-like against the unbleached cotton of her chemise. A coarse skirt was fastened about her waist, and a string of many-colored beads knotted around her throat. She held her smoking pipe between her yellow teeth.
âHow you all come on, MichĂ© EusĂšbe?â she questioned, pleasantly.
âWe all middlinâ, Tante Catârinette. But Miss Kitty, she putty bad off out yonâa. I see Mista Raymond dis moâninâ wâen I pass by his house; he say look like de feva donâ wanâ to quit âer. She been axenâ foâ you all târough de night. He âlow he reckon I betta tell you. Nice wedda we got foâ plantinâ, Tante Catârinette.â
âNice wedda foâ lies, MichĂ© EusĂšbe,â and she spat contemptuously down upon the banquette. She turned away without noticing the man further, and proceeded to hang one of Lawyer Paxtonâs fine linen shirts upon the line.
âShe been axenâ foâ you all târough de night.â
Somehow Tante Catârinette could not get that refrain out of her head. She would not willingly believe that EusĂšbe had spoken the truth, butâ ââShe been axen foâ you all târough de nightâ âall târough de night.â The words kept ringing in her ears, as she came and went about her daily tasks. But by degrees she dismissed EusĂšbe and his message from her mind. It was Miss Kittyâs voice that she could hear in fancy following her, calling out through the night, âWâere Tante Catârinette? Wây Tante Catârinette donâ come? Wây she donâ comeâ âwây she donâ come?â
All day the woman muttered and mumbled to herself in her Creole patois; invoking council of âVieumaite,â as she always did in her troubles. Tante Catârinetteâs religion was peculiarly her own; she turned to heaven with her grievances, it is true, but she felt that there was no one in Paradise with whom she was quite so well acquainted as with âVieumaite.â
Late in the afternoon she went and stood on her doorstep, and looked uneasily and anxiously out upon the almost deserted street. When a little girl came walking byâ âa sweet child with a frank and innocent face, upon whose word she knew she could relyâ âTante Catârinette invited her to enter.
âCome yere see Tante Catârinette, Lolo. Itâs long time you enât come see Tante Catârine; you gittinâ proud.â She made the little one sit down, and offered her a couple of cookies, which the child accepted with pretty avidity.
âYou putty good liâle gal, you, Lolo. You keep on go confession all de time?â
âOh, yes. Iâm goinâ make my firsâ communion firsâ of May, Tante Catârinette.â A dog-eared catechism was sticking out of Loloâs apron pocket.
âDas right; be good liâle gal. Mine yoâ maman evâtâing she say; anâ neva tell no story. Itâs nuttinâ bad in dis worlâ like tellinâ lies. You know EusĂšbe?â
âEusĂšbe?â
âYas; dat liâle ole Red River free mâlatto. Uh, uh! dat one man wâat kin tell lies, yas! He come tell me Miss Kitty down sick yonâa. You evâ yeard such big story like dat, Lolo?â
The child looked a little bewildered, but she answered promptly, âââTainât no story, Tante Catârinette. I yeard papa sayinâ, dinner time, Mr. Raymond senâ foâ Dr. Chalon. Anâ Dr. Chalon says he ainât got time to go
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