The Mind Creative
between the chil'ren, an' Léon
not home, an' maybe not even to
fine po' maman alive encore!" -a harrowing possibility which
drove Odile to take a final hasty
and convulsive leave of her
disconsolate family.
She left them crowded into the
narrow strip of shade on the
porch of the long, low house; the
white sunlight was beating in on
the white old boards; some
chickens were scratching in the
grass at the foot of the steps, and
had boldly mounted, and was stepping heavily, solemnly, and
aimlessly across the gallery. There was a pleasant odor of pinks
in the air, and the sound of Negroes' laughter was coming across
the flowering cotton-field.
Mamzelle Aurélie stood contemplating the children. She looked
with a critical eye upon Marcéline, who had been left staggering
beneath the weight of the chubby Élodie. She surveyed with the
same calculating air Marcélette mingling her silent tears with the
audible grief and rebellion of Ti Nomme. During those few
contemplative moments she was collecting herself, determining
upon a line of action which should be identical with a line of duty.
She began by feeding them.
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