Short Fiction Kate Chopin (best e reader for android .txt) đ
- Author: Kate Chopin
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âBut Viny she answer, pert-likeâ âdes like Viny: âYou is got two laigs. Pa-Jeff, des well as me.â I ainât no hanâ foâ disputinâ wid gals, so I brace up anâ I come âlong to de house anâ goes on in dat settinâ-room dah, naixâ to de dininâ-room. I lays dat mail down on Marse Albertâs table; den I looks rounâ.
âEvâthing do look putty, sho! De lace cuâtains was a-flappinâ anâ de flowers was a-smellinâ sweet, anâ de pictures a-settinâ back on de wall. I keep on lookinâ rounâ. To reckly my eye hit fall on de liâle gal wâat alâays sets on de eenâ oâ de mantel-shelf. She do look mighty sassy dat day, wid âer toe a-stickinâ out, des so; anâ holdinâ her skirt des dat away; anâ lookinâ at me wid her head twisâ.
âI laff out. Viny musâ heahed me. I say, âgâlong âway fâom dah, gal.â She keep on smilinâ. I reaches out my hanâ. Den Satan anâ de good Sperrit, dey begins to wrastle in me. De Sperrit say: âYou ole fool-nigga, you; mine wâat you about.â Satan keep on shovinâ my hanââ âdes soâ âkeep on shovinâ. Satan he mighty powerful dat day, anâ he win de fight. I kiar dat liâle trick home in my pocket.â
Pa-Jeff lowered his head for a moment in bitter confusion. His hearers were moved with distressful astonishment. They would have had him stop the recital right there, but Pa-Jeff resumed, with an effort:
âCome dat night I heah tell how dat liâle trick, woâth heap money; how madam, she cryinâ âcause her liâle blessed lamb was useâ to play wid dat, anâ kiar-on ovâ it. Den I git scared. I say, âwâat I gwine do?â Anâ up jump Satan anâ de Sperrit a-wrastlinâ again.
âDe Sperrit say: âKiar hit back whar it come fâom. Pa-Jeff.â Satan âlow: âFling it in de bayeh, you ole fool.â De Sperrit say: âYou wonât fling dat in de bayeh, whar de madam kainât neva sot eyes on hit no moâ?â Den Satan he kine give in; he âlow he plumb sick oâ disputinâ so long; tell me go hide it some âeres whar dey nachelly gwine fine it. Satan he win dat fight.
âDes wâen de day gâine break, I creeps out anâ goes âlong de fielâ road. I pass by Maâme Bedautâs house. I riclic how dey says liâle Bedaut gal ben in de sittinâ-room, too, day befoâ. De winda war open. Evâbody sleepinâ. I tresâ in my head, des like a dog wâat shame hisseâf. I sees dat box oâ rags befoâ my eyes; anâ I drops dat liâle impâdence âmongst dem rags.
âMebby yoâ all tâink Satan anâ de Sperrit lef me âlone, arter dat?â continued Pa-Jeff, straightening himself from the relaxed position in which his members seemed to have settled.
âNo, suh; dey ben desputinâ straight âlong. Lasâ night dey come nigh onto enâinâ me up. De Sperrit cay: âCome âlong, I gittinâ tired dis heah, you gâlong up yonda anâ tell de truf anâ shame de devil.â Satan âlow: âStay whar you is; you heah me!â Dey clutches me. Dey twisâes anâ twines me. Dey dashes me down anâ jerks me up. But de Sperrit he win dat fight in de enâ, anâ heah I is, mistâess, master, chillunâ; heah I is.â
Years later Pa-Jeff was still telling the story of his temptation and fall. The negroes especially seemed never to tire of hearing him relate it. He enlarged greatly upon the theme as he went, adding new and dramatic features which gave fresh interest to its every telling.
Agapie grew up to deserve the confidence and favors of the family. She redoubled her acts of kindness toward Pa-Jeff; but somehow she could not look into his face again.
Yet she need not have feared. Long before the end came, poor old Pa-Jeff, confused, bewildered, believed the story himself as firmly as those who had heard him tell it over and over for so many years.
The Dream of an HourKnowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husbandâs death.
It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husbandâs friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallardâs name leading the list of âkilled.â He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.
She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sisterâs arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.
There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.
She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that where all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.
She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its
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