It was eleven o'clock that night when Mr. Pontellier returned from his night out. He was in an excellent humor, in high spirits, and very talkative. His entrance awoke his wife, who was in bed and fast asleep when he came in. He talked to her while he undressed, telling her anecdotes and bits of news and gossip that he had gathered during the day. She was overcome with sleep, and answered him with little half utterances.
　　He thought it very discouraging that his wife, who was the sole object of his existence, showed so little interest in things which concerned him and valued so little his conversation.
　　Mr. Pontellier had forgotten the candies and peanuts that he had promised the boys. Still, he loved them very much and went into the room where they slept to take a look at them and make sure that they were resting comfortably. The result of his investigation was far from satisfactory. He turned and shifted the youngsters about in bed. One of them began to kick and talk about a basket full of crabs.
　　Mr. Pontellier returned to his wife with the information that Raoul had a high fever and needed looking after. Then he lit his cigar and went and sat near the open door to smoke it.
　　Mrs. Pontellier was quite sure Raoul had no fever. He had gone to bed perfectly well, she said, and nothing had made him sick. Mr. Pontellier was too well familiar with fever symptoms to be mistaken. He assured her the child was burning with fever at that moment in the next room.
　　He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother's place to look after children, whose on earth was it? He himself had his hands full with his business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for his family on the street, and staying home to see that no harm done to them. He talked in a dull, repeated and insistent way.
　　Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went into the next room. She soon came back and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head down on the pillow. She said nothing, and refused to answer her husband when he questioned her. When his cigar was smoked out, he went to bed, and in half a minute was fast asleep.
　　Mrs. Pontellier was by that time thoroughly awake. She began to cry a little, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightdress. She went out on the porch, where she sat down and began to rock herself in the chair.
　　It was then past midnight. The cottages were all dark. There was no sound except the hooting of an old owl and the everlasting voice of the sea, which broke like a mournful lullaby (催眠曲) upon the night.
　　The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier's eyes that the damp sleeve of her nightdress no longer served to dry them. She went on crying there, not caring any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her arms.
　　She could not have told why she was crying. Such experiences as had just happened were not uncommon in her married life. They seemed never before to have weighed much against theabundance (充足) of her husband's kindness and a uniform devotion which had come to be self-understood.
　　An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with vague pain. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly scolding her husband, expressing sadness about Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself.
　　The mosquitoes succeeded in driving away a mood which might have held her there in the darkness half a night longer.
　　The following morning Mr. Pontellier was up in good time to take the carriage which was to convey him to the ship. He was returning to the city to his business, and they would not see him again at the Island till the coming Saturday. He had regained his calmness, which seemed to have been somewhatweakened the night before. He was eager to be gone, as he looked forward to a lively week in the financial center.
【小题1】Mr.Pontellier comes back home from his night out in a/an ______state of mind.

It was eleven o'clock that night when Mr. Pontellier returned from his night out. He was in an excellent humor, in high spirits, and very talkative. His entrance awoke his wife, who was in bed and fast asleep when he came in. He talked to her while he undressed, telling her anecdotes and bits of news and gossip that he had gathered during the day. She was overcome with sleep, and answered him with little half utterances.
　　He thought it very discouraging that his wife, who was the sole object of his existence, showed so little interest in things which concerned him and valued so little his conversation.
　　Mr. Pontellier had forgotten the candies and peanuts that he had promised the boys. Still, he loved them very much and went into the room where they slept to take a look at them and make sure that they were resting comfortably. The result of his investigation was far from satisfactory. He turned and shifted the youngsters about in bed. One of them began to kick and talk about a basket full of crabs.
　　Mr. Pontellier returned to his wife with the information that Raoul had a high fever and needed looking after. Then he lit his cigar and went and sat near the open door to smoke it.
　　Mrs. Pontellier was quite sure Raoul had no fever. He had gone to bed perfectly well, she said, and nothing had made him sick. Mr. Pontellier was too well familiar with fever symptoms to be mistaken. He assured her the child was burning with fever at that moment in the next room.
　　He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother's place to look after children, whose on earth was it? He himself had his hands full with his business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for his family on the street, and staying home to see that no harm done to them. He talked in a dull, repeated and insistent way.
　　Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went into the next room. She soon came back and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head down on the pillow. She said nothing, and refused to answer her husband when he questioned her. When his cigar was smoked out, he went to bed, and in half a minute was fast asleep.
　　Mrs. Pontellier was by that time thoroughly awake. She began to cry a little, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightdress. She went out on the porch, where she sat down and began to rock herself in the chair.
　　It was then past midnight. The cottages were all dark. There was no sound except the hooting of an old owl and the everlasting voice of the sea, which broke like a mournful lullaby (催眠曲) upon the night.
　　The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier's eyes that the damp sleeve of her nightdress no longer served to dry them. She went on crying there, not caring any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her arms.
　　She could not have told why she was crying. Such experiences as had just happened were not uncommon in her married life. They seemed never before to have weighed much against theabundance (充足) of her husband's kindness and a uniform devotion which had come to be self-understood.
　　An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with vague pain. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly scolding her husband, expressing sadness about Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself.
　　The mosquitoes succeeded in driving away a mood which might have held her there in the darkness half a night longer.
　　The following morning Mr. Pontellier was up in good time to take the carriage which was to convey him to the ship. He was returning to the city to his business, and they would not see him again at the Island till the coming Saturday. He had regained his calmness, which seemed to have been somewhatweakened the night before. He was eager to be gone, as he looked forward to a lively week in the financial center

1. 1.

   Mr.Pontellier comes back home from his night out in a/an ______state of mind

   1. A.
      excited
   2. B.
      confused
   3. C.
      depressed
   4. D.
      disappointed
2. 2.

   Mr. Pontellier criticizes his wife because ______

   1. A.
      she is not wholly devoted to her children
   2. B.
      she does little housework but sleep
   3. C.
      she knows nothing about fever symptoms
   4. D.
      she fails to take her son to hospital
3. 3.

   The writer would most likely describe Mr. Pontellier’s conduct during the evening as ______

   1. A.
      impatient and generous
   2. B.
      enthusiastic and responsible
   3. C.
      concerned and gentle
   4. D.
      inconsiderate and self-centered
4. 4.

   The underlined sentence suggests that Mr. Pontellier's complaints to his wife are ______

   1. A.
      hesitant and confused
   2. B.
      not as urgent as he claims
   3. C.
      angry and uncertain
   4. D.
      too complex to make sense
5. 5.

   In paragraphs 8 to 13, Mrs. Pontellier’s reactions to her husband’s behavior suggest that ______

   1. A.
      she accepts unquestioningly her role of taking care of the children
   2. B.
      this is one of the first times she has acknowledged her unhappiness with her husband
   3. C.
      her relationship with her husband is not what has made her depressed
   4. D.
      she is angry about something that happened before her husband left
6. 6.

   The passage shows Mr. Pontellier is happiest when he ______

   1. A.
      sits near the open door smoking a cigar and talking
   2. B.
      makes up with his wife after a heated argument
   3. C.
      has been away from home or is about to leave home
   4. D.
      has given his children gifts of candies and peanuts

It was eleven o'clock that night when Mr. Pontellier returned from his night out. He was in an excellent humor, in high spirits, and very talkative. His entrance awoke his wife, who was in bed and fast asleep when he came in. He talked to her while he undressed, telling her anecdotes and bits of news and gossip that he had gathered during the day. She was overcome with sleep, and answered him with little half utterances.
　　He thought it very discouraging that his wife, who was the sole object of his existence, showed so little interest in things which concerned him and valued so little his conversation.
　　Mr. Pontellier had forgotten the candies and peanuts that he had promised the boys. Still, he loved them very much and went into the room where they slept to take a look at them and make sure that they were resting comfortably. The result of his investigation was far from satisfactory. He turned and shifted the youngsters about in bed. One of them began to kick and talk about a basket full of crabs.
　　Mr. Pontellier returned to his wife with the information that Raoul had a high fever and needed looking after. Then he lit his cigar and went and sat near the open door to smoke it.
　　Mrs. Pontellier was quite sure Raoul had no fever. He had gone to bed perfectly well, she said, and nothing had made him sick. Mr. Pontellier was too well familiar with fever symptoms to be mistaken. He assured her the child was burning with fever at that moment in the next room.
　　He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother's place to look after children, whose on earth was it? He himself had his hands full with his business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for his family on the street, and staying home to see that no harm done to them. He talked in a dull, repeated and insistent way.
　　Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went into the next room. She soon came back and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head down on the pillow. She said nothing, and refused to answer her husband when he questioned her. When his cigar was smoked out, he went to bed, and in half a minute was fast asleep.
　　Mrs. Pontellier was by that time thoroughly awake. She began to cry a little, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightdress. She went out on the porch, where she sat down and began to rock herself in the chair.
　　It was then past midnight. The cottages were all dark. There was no sound except the hooting of an old owl and the everlasting voice of the sea, which broke like a mournful lullaby (催眠曲) upon the night.
　　The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier's eyes that the damp sleeve of her nightdress no longer served to dry them. She went on crying there, not caring any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her arms.
　　She could not have told why she was crying. Such experiences as had just happened were not uncommon in her married life. They seemed never before to have weighed much against theabundance (充足) of her husband's kindness and a uniform devotion which had come to be self-understood.
　　An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with vague pain. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly scolding her husband, expressing sadness about Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself.
　　The mosquitoes succeeded in driving away a mood which might have held her there in the darkness half a night longer.
　　The following morning Mr. Pontellier was up in good time to take the carriage which was to convey him to the ship. He was returning to the city to his business, and they would not see him again at the Island till the coming Saturday. He had regained his calmness, which seemed to have been somewhatweakened the night before. He was eager to be gone, as he looked forward to a lively week in the financial center

1. 1.

   Mr.Pontellier comes back home from his night out in a/an ______state of mind

   1. A.
      excited
   2. B.
      confused
   3. C.
      depressed
   4. D.
      disappointed
2. 2.

   The writer would most likely describe Mr. Pontellier’s conduct during the evening as ______

   1. A.
      impatient and generous
   2. B.
      enthusiastic and responsible
   3. C.
      concerned and gentle
   4. D.
      inconsiderate and self-centered
3. 3.

   In paragraphs 8 to 13, Mrs. Pontellier’s reactions to her husband’s behavior suggest that ______

   1. A.
      she accepts unquestioningly her role of taking care of the children
   2. B.
      this is one of the times she has acknowledged her unhappiness with her husband
   3. C.
      her relationship with her husband is not what has made her depressed
   4. D.
      she is angry about something that happened before her husband left

When I was a child, our dining room had two kinds of chairs—two large ones with arm rests and four small ones without. The larger ones stood at the ends of the table, the smaller ones on the sides. Mom and Dad sat in the big chairs, except when one of us was away; then Mom would sit in one of the smaller chairs. Dad always sat at the end, at the “head” of the table. Sitting where he did, Dad was framed by the window through which the yard could be seen with its trees and grass. His chair was not just a place for him at the table; it was a place in which he was situated against the yard and trees. It was the holy （神圣的） and protected place that was his, and ours through him.

After Dad retired, he and Mom moved out into a small flat. When they came to visit me at their old house, Dad still sat at the end of the table though the table was no longer his but mine. Only with my marriage to Barbara, did I hear a voice questioning the arrangement. She requested, gently but firmly, that I sit at the head of the table in our home. I realized then that I was head of the family, but I also felt unwilling to introduce such a change. How would I feel sitting in that “head” place in my Dad’s presence? And how would he handle it? I was to find out on the occasion of our youngest child’s first birthday.

Mom and Dad arrived for lunch, and went into the dining room. Dad moved toward his usual seat in front of the window. Before he could get around the side of the table, I took a deep breath and said, “Dad, this is going to be your place, next to Mom, on the side.” He stopped, looked at me and then sat down. I felt sad, and angry at Barbara for pushing me to do this. It would have been easy to say, “My mistake, Dad. Sit where you always sit.” But I didn’t.

When he and Mom were seated, Barbara and I took our places. I don’t know how Dad felt. I do know that, though removed from his usual place, he continued to share his best self with us, telling stories of his childhood and youth to the delight of his grandchildren. As I served the food, our lives experienced a change, which we continue to live with.

It wasn’t easy, but I sense that there is also something good in the change which has occurred. I am beginning to learn that “honoring one’s father” is more than the question of which place to occupy at the dining table. It also means listening, wherever we sit and whatever positions we own, to the stories Dad longs to tell. We may then, during these magical moments, even be able to forget about whose chair is whose.

1．Where did the writer’s mother sit when one of the children was away?

    A．She didn’t change her chair.

    B．She moved her own chair next Dad’s.

    C．She moved to an empty chair on the side.

    D．She sat opposite to Dad.

2．How did the writer feel when he told his father to sit on the side?

    A．He didn’t feel bad because his father was going to sit there anyway.

    B．He felt happy at having carried out the difficult task.

    C．He was thoroughly satisfied with the new seating arrangement.

    D．He regretted what he had done and wanted to blame his wife.

3．What happened during the meal after the family had all taken their new seats?

    A．The writer’s children removed their grandfather from his usual place.

    B．The writer’s father didn’t appear to mind where he sat.

    C．The writer’s father shared his favorite dishes with the grandchildren.

    D．They became tense and nervous about their future as a family.

4．What did the writer learn about “honoring one’s father”?

    A．Fathers always long to tell stories about their early years.

    B．Providing the right chair is the only way to honor one’s father.

    C．Respect for one’s father doesn’t depend only on where he sits.

    D．The family should dine together at the same table as often as possible.