“It was w’en you was behine the boxes to the coal-oil tank—I unhook’ it,” she explained sullenly.
“An’ you don’ know I could sen’ you to Baton Rouge fo’ that?” He shook her as though trying to rouse her to a comprehension of her grievous fault.
“Jus’ fo’ a li’le picayune o’ tobacca!” she whimpered.
He suddenly abandoned his hold upon her, and left her free. She mechanically rubbed the arm that he had grasped so violently.
Between the long row of pillars the moon was sending pale beams of light. In one of these they were standing.
“Azélie,” he said, “go ’way f’om yere quick; some one might fine you yere. W’en you want something in the sto’, fo’ yo’se’f or fo’ yo’ pa—I don’ care—ask me fo’ it. But you—but you can’t neva set yo’ foot inside that sto’ again. Co ’way f’on yere quick as you can, I tell you!”
She tried in no way to conciliate him. She turned and walked away over the same ground she had crossed before. One of the big dogs started to follow her. ’Polyte did not call him back this time. He knew no harm could come to her, going through those lonely fields, while the animal was at her side.
He went at once to his room for the store key that was beneath his pillow. He entered the store, and refastened the window. When he had made everything once more secure, he sat dejectedly down upon a bench that was in the portico. He sat for a long time motionless. Then, overcome by some powerful feeling that was at work within him, he buried his face in his hands and wept, his whole body shaken by the violence of his sobs.
After that night ’Polyte loved Azélie desperately. The very action which should have revolted him had seemed, on the contrary, to inflame him with love. He felt that love to be a degradation—something that he was almost ashamed to acknowledge to himself; and he knew that he was hopelessly unable to stifle it.
He watched now in a tremor for her coming. She came very often, for she remembered every word he had said; and she did not hesitate to ask him for those luxuries which she considered necessities to her “popa’s” existence. She never attempted to enter the store, but always waited outside, of her own accord, laughing, and playing with the dogs. She seemed to have no shame or regret for what she had done, and plainly did not realize that it was a disgraceful act. ’Polyte often shuddered with disgust to discern in her a being so wholly devoid of moral sense.