Nama : Fajar Armando N
Kelas : 4SA02 / NPM : 12611627
The Story of An Hour
by Kate Chopin
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
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 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 the 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 keyhole, 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.
Active Voice
:
1. 1. She did
not hear the story as many
women have heard the same
subject
verb object
-using simple past
tense because heard is verb 2 and there’s “did”
2.
2. When the storm of grief had spent
itself she went
away to her room alone
Object subject verb adv. Place
-using
simple past tense because went is past, and spent is verb 2
3.
3. She could
see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all
Subject verb adv.
place
aquiver with the new spring life
object
-using simple present tense
4.
4. She sat
with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair
Subject verb complemen object
-using simple present perfect because there’s sat
which is verb 2 and followed by thrown which is verb 3
5.
5. And she
opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.
Subject verb object
-using
simple past tense because opened is verb 2
>> >>They are active voice because the
subject is doing the action
Passive Voice :
1.
1. Knowing that
Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble
Subject be verb object
-using simple past tense because
afflicted is verb 2
2.
2. It was her
sister Josephine who told
her, in broken sentences
Subject be complemen verb object
-using simple present
perfect because told is verb 2 and followed by broken which verb 3
3.
3. There was
something coming to her and she was waiting for it,
fearfully
Be subject verb
object -using simple present continous because of word coming which mean is still happen or going to happen
4.
4. Into this she
sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted
her body
Subject verb object
and seemed to reach into her soul
-using simple past tense because all of them is using
verb 2
5. 5. except when a
sob came up into her throat
and shook her
subject verb object
-using simple past tense because all of the verb is
verb 2
>>>>they are passive voice because the
subject receive the action done by someone
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