In her stories, Chopin tended to focus on female characters trapped in oppressive situations. Of course, she did not need to look far to find and observe models for these characters. Born into a political and economic system that guaranteed them almost no rights, women of Chopin's day were also expected to conform to society's narrow expectations of how a woman should feel, act, and react. As you read the rest of "The Story of an Hour," look for clues that suggest how Mrs. Mallard is expected to respond to her husband's death. Then notice how the author challenges that expectation.
Read the rest of "The Story of an Hour" below and use the questions beside the story to analyze its message.
What does the first sentence of this story reveal about her family's expectations of Mrs. Mallard?
- They're afraid that she might collapse and die when she hears of her husband's death.
- They assume that she will face her new life alone with strength after a brief period of mourning.
- They expect that she'll simply refuse to believe the news that she is now a widow.
- They're concerned that she will behave recklessly once she is no longer ruled by her husband.
The very first sentence reveals that Mrs. Mallard has been ill, and that everyone around her fears her reaction to the news will be dramatic, if not fatal.
The very first sentence reveals that Mrs. Mallard has been ill, and that everyone around her fears her reaction to the news will be dramatic, if not fatal.
The very first sentence reveals that Mrs. Mallard has been ill, and that everyone around her fears her reaction to the news will be dramatic, if not fatal.
The very first sentence reveals that Mrs. Mallard has been ill, and that everyone around her fears her reaction to the news will be dramatic, if not fatal.
What role does Mrs. Mallard's apparent illness play throughout the story?
- Everyone does exactly as she asks.
- No one wants to leave her alone.
- She always gets her way because of it.
- She is mistreated because of it.
Both Richards and Mrs. Mallard's sister are very anxious about Mrs. Mallard's desire to be alone right after hearing the news.
Both Richards and Mrs. Mallard's sister are very anxious about Mrs. Mallard's desire to be alone right after hearing the news.
Both Richards and Mrs. Mallard's sister are very anxious about Mrs. Mallard's desire to be alone right after hearing the news.
Both Richards and Mrs. Mallard's sister are very anxious about Mrs. Mallard's desire to be alone right after hearing the news.
What kind of transition is suggested by Paragraphs 5 and 6?
- Mrs. Mallard has begun to grieve more deeply for her husband.
- Mrs. Mallard is slowly beginning to accept her new status as grieving widow.
- Mrs. Mallard is entering a state of complete denial.
- Mrs. Mallard has begun to experience an emotional awakening.
After sinking down in the armchair, Mrs. Mallard begins to notice hopeful images—birds and people singing, the leaves of trees "aquiver," the "delicious" smell of rain, and patches of blue sky.
After sinking down in the armchair, Mrs. Mallard begins to notice hopeful images—birds and people singing, the leaves of trees "aquiver," the "delicious" smell of rain, and patches of blue sky.
After sinking down in the armchair, Mrs. Mallard begins to notice hopeful images—birds and people singing, the leaves of trees "aquiver," the "delicious" smell of rain, and patches of blue sky.
After sinking down in the armchair, Mrs. Mallard begins to notice hopeful images—birds and people singing, the leaves of trees "aquiver," the "delicious" smell of rain, and patches of blue sky.
When Mrs. Mallard feels "something coming to her" and she is "waiting for it," where is it coming from?
- the clouds
- the trees
- God
- the sky
It is "creeping out of the sky."
It is "creeping out of the sky."
It is "creeping out of the sky."
It is "creeping out of the sky."
Why does it matter that the "something" that is coming to Mrs. Mallard originates from a patch of blue sky?
- Blue sky is a symbol of hope.
- Blue skies often represent death.
- Blue skies are associated with true love.
- A blue sky is prettier than a gray one.
In this same passage, Mrs. Mallard also repeats the word free several times.
In this same passage, Mrs. Mallard also repeats the word free several times.
In this same passage, Mrs. Mallard also repeats the word free several times.
In this same passage, Mrs. Mallard also repeats the word free several times.
Re-read the first sentence of this paragraph, and consider how the word repression is used to describe Mrs. Mallard. What does Chopin's use of this term suggest about the widow's transformation in the next few paragraphs?
- She is deciding to hide and ignore her feelings of loss and grief.
- She is moving from a resentful outlook to a more grateful view of her status.
- She is starting to feel desires that she has long ignored or denied.
- She is turning into a bitter, angry person who will never trust life again.
Mrs. Mallard's face "bespoke repression"—it showed that there were thoughts and feelings that she had suppressed throughout her married life.
Mrs. Mallard's face "bespoke repression"—it showed that there were thoughts and feelings that she had suppressed throughout her married life.
Mrs. Mallard's face "bespoke repression"—it showed that there were thoughts and feelings that she had suppressed throughout her married life.
Mrs. Mallard's face "bespoke repression"—it showed that there were thoughts and feelings that she had suppressed throughout her married life.
What kind of ending does Chopin use to make her point about society and many women's experience within it?
- straightforward
- expected
- ironic
- absurd
Chopin's last sentence states what the doctors (representing society) assume about Mrs. Mallard, which is the opposite of what Mrs. Mallard herself—and the reader—know to be true. She may have died of a heart attack, but it was not brought on by feelings of joy.
Chopin's last sentence states what the doctors (representing society) assume about Mrs. Mallard, which is the opposite of what Mrs. Mallard herself—and the reader—know to be true. She may have died of a heart attack, but it was not brought on by feelings of joy.
Chopin's last sentence states what the doctors (representing society) assume about Mrs. Mallard, which is the opposite of what Mrs. Mallard herself—and the reader—know to be true. She may have died of a heart attack, but it was not brought on by feelings of joy.
Chopin's last sentence states what the doctors (representing society) assume about Mrs. Mallard, which is the opposite of what Mrs. Mallard herself—and the reader—know to be true. She may have died of a heart attack, but it was not brought on by feelings of joy.
Summary
Questions answered correctly:
Questions answered incorrectly:
The Story of An Hour
Knowing 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 husband's death.
It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband's 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 Mallard's name leading the list of "killed." 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 sister's 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 were 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 some one 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 dreams.
She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.
There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will—as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.
There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.
And yet she had loved him—sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!
"Free! Body and soul free!" she kept whispering.
Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhold, imploring for admission. "Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door—you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven's sake open the door."
"Go away. I am not making myself ill." No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window.
Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.
She arose at length and opened the door to her sister's importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister's waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.
Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.
When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease—of the joy that kills.
