A RESPECTABLE WOMAN

By Kate Chopin
Mrs. Baroda was a little provoked(1) to learn that her
husband expected his friend, Gouvernail, up to spend a
week or two on the plantation.

They had entertained a good deal during the winter; much of

the time had also been passed in New Orleans in various
forms of mild dissipation(2). She was looking forward to a
period of unbroken rest, now, and undisturbed tete-a-tete(3)
This was a man she had heard much of but never seen. He had
been her husband's college friend; was now a journalist, and in no
sense a society man or "a man about town," which were, perhaps,
some of the reasons she had never met him. But she had
unconsciously formed an image of him in her mind. She pictured him
tall, slim, cynical; with eye-glasses, and his hands in his pockets; and
she did not like him. Gouvernail was slim enough, but he wasn't very
tall nor very cynical; neither did he wear eyeglasses nor carry his
hands in his pockets. And she rather liked him when he first
But why she liked him she could not explain satisfactorily to
herself when she partly attempted to do so. She could
discover in him none of those brilliant and promising traits
which Gaston, her husband, had often assured her that he
possessed. On the contrary, he sat rather mute and
receptive before her chatty eagerness to make him feel at
home and in face of Gaston's frank and wordy hospitality.
His manner was as courteous toward her as the most
Once settled at the plantation he seemed to like to sit upon the wide
portico in the shade of one of the big Corinthian(4) pillars, smoking his
cigar lazily and listening attentively to Gaston's experience as a sugar
planter. "This is what I call living," he would utter with deep
satisfaction, as the air that swept across the sugar field caressed him
with its warm and scented velvety touch. It pleased him also to get on
familiar terms with the big dogs that came about him, rubbing
themselves sociably against his legs. He did not care to fish, and
displayed no eagerness to go out and kill grosbecs(5) when Gaston
proposed doing so.
"You used to say he was a man of ideas," she retorted,
Gouvernail's personality puzzled Mrs. Baroda, but she liked him.
Indeed, he was a lovable, inoffensive fellow. After a few days,
when she could understand him no better than at first, she gave
over being puzzled and remained piqued. In this mood she left
her husband and her guest, for the most part, alone together.
Then finding that Gouvernail took no manner of exception to her
action, she imposed her society upon him, accompanying him in
his idle strolls to the mill and walks along the batture6. She
"When is he going--your friend?" she one day asked
her husband. "For my part, he tires me frightfully."
"Not for a week yet, dear. I can't understand; he
gives you no trouble." "No. I should like him better if
he did; if he were more like others, and I had to plan
somewhat for his comfort and enjoyment." Gaston
took his wife's pretty face between his hands and
"You are full of surprises, ma belle," he said to her. "Even I
can never count upon how you are going to act under given
conditions." He kissed her and turned to fasten his cravat7
before the mirror. "Here you are," he went on, "taking poor
Gouvernail seriously and making a commotion over him,
the last thing he would desire or expect." "Commotion!"
she hotly resented. "Nonsense! How can you say such a
thing? Commotion, indeed! But, you know, you said he was
Vocabulary
1. provoke: to cause someone to become annoyed or irate
2. dissipation: wasting money or health in pursuit of pleasure
3. tete-a-tete: face-to-face; spending time privately with another
4. Corinthian: architecture reminiscent of Ancient Greece
5. grosbecs: sparrows; a type of bird
6. batture: a sea or riverbed that is raised or elevated
7. cravat: a wide fabric band worn as a necktie
Her mind only vaguely grasped what he was saying|.
unconciliated(8). "I expected him to be interesting, at least.
I'm going to the city in the morning to have my spring gowns
fitted. Let me know when Mr. Gouvernail is gone; I shall be
at my Aunt Octavie's." That night she went and sat alone
upon a bench that stood beneath a live oak tree at the edge
of the gravel walk. She had never known her thoughts or her
intentions to be so confused. She could gather nothing from
Mrs. Baroda heard footsteps crunching the gravel; but
could discern in the darkness only the approaching red
point of a lighted cigar. She knew it was Gouvernail, for
her husband did not smoke. She hoped to remain
unnoticed, but her white gown revealed her to him. He
threw away his cigar and seated himself upon the
bench beside her; without a suspicion that she might
"Your husband told me to bring this to you, Mrs.
Baroda," he said, handing her a filmy, white scarf with
which she sometimes enveloped her head and
shoulders. She accepted the scarf from him with a
murmur of thanks, and let it lie in her lap. He made
some commonplace observation upon the baneful
effect of the night air at the season. Then as his gaze
She made no reply to this apostrophe9 to the night,
which, indeed, was not addressed to her.
Gouvernail was in no sense a diffident man, for he
was not a self-conscious one. His periods of
reserve were not constitutional, but the result of
moods. Sitting there beside Mrs. Baroda, his
silence melted for the time. He talked freely and
He talked of the old college days when he and
Gaston had been a good deal to each other; of the
days of keen and blind ambitions and large
intentions. Now there was left with him, at least, a
philosophic acquiescence(10) to the existing
order--only a desire to be permitted to exist, with
now and then a little whiff of genuine life, such as
Her physical being was for the moment
predominant(11). She was not thinking of his words,
only drinking in the tones of his voice. She wanted to
reach out her hand in the darkness and touch him
with the sensitive tips of her fingers upon the face or
the lips. She wanted to draw close to him and
whisper against his cheek--she did not care what--as
The stronger the impulse grew to bring herself
near him, the further, in fact, did she draw away
from him. As soon as she could do so without
an appearance of too great rudeness, she rose
and left him there alone. Before she reached
the house, Gouvernail had lighted a fresh cigar
and ended his apostrophe to the night.
Mrs. Baroda was greatly tempted that night to
tell her husband--who was also her friend--of
this folly that had seized her. But she did not
yield to the temptation. Beside being a
respectable woman she was a very sensible
one; and she knew there are some battles in
When Gaston arose in the morning, his wife had
already departed. She had taken an early
morning train to the city. She did not return till
Gouvernail was gone from under her roof. There
was some talk of having him back during the
summer that followed. That is, Gaston greatly
desired it; but this desire yielded to his wife's
However, before the year ended, she proposed, wholly
from herself, to have Gouvernail visit them again. Her
husband was surprised and delighted with the
suggestion coming from her. "I am glad, chere amie13,
to know that you have finally overcome your dislike for
him; truly he did not deserve it." "Oh," she told him,
laughingly, after pressing a long, tender kiss upon his
lips, "I have overcome everything! You will see. This
Vocabulary
8. unconcilliated: not made calm; not placated
9. apostrophe: sudden dialog addressed to someone
or something
10. acquiescence: giving in or submitting to a force
11. predominant: most important or significant
12. strenuous: requiring great strain or effort