Reading Fiction_Materials_Bridge II
Reading Fiction Materials
FastTRAC Bridge Project-Bridge II
Designer: Tammy Twiggs
Page
Contents
Section Product 1
2
Literary Terms for Prose Fiction (S1-A1)
4
Literary Elements PowerPoint (S1-A2): Teacher’s Notes
5
After Twenty Years (S1-A3a)
8
“After Twenty Years” Analysis (S1-A3b)
10
What is a Constructed Response? (S1-A4)
12
THE BET (S1-A5a)
17
Questions for “The Bet”(S1-A5b)
19
Two Constructed Responses for “The Bet” (S1-A6)
20
“The Bet” Literary Analysis and Constructed Response (S1)
Section Product 2
21
PowerPoint Mini-Practice (S2-A1)
22
The Necklace (S2-A2a)
28
The Necklace Discussion Questions (S2-A2b)
29
The Necklace Literary Analysis (S2-A3)
30
“The Necklace” Analysis and Note-taking Activity (S2)
Final Product
31
“The Necklace” PowerPoint Presentation Assignment (FP)
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Reading Fiction_Materials_Bridge II
Literary Terms for Prose Fiction (S1-A1)
1. Conflict – A struggle, problem, or clash between two opposing forces
a. Internal conflict – A struggle that takes place within the character’s
own mind
b. External conflict – A struggle the character has with someone or
something outside of him or herself
2. Characterization – A person, animal, or thing in a story, play, or novel that is
the main character. The main characters actions, thoughts, and dialogue are
important for characterization.
3. Setting – The time and place of a story (tells us when and where)
4. Mood – The emotional feeling of the story; you experience a certain mood
as you read
5. Plot – The series of related events that make up a story (beginning, middle,
and end)
a. Introduction – tells us who the characters are and what the conflict is
b. Complications/Rising action – there are complications as the character
takes steps to resolve the conflict
c. Climax/Turning Point – the most exciting moment in the story, when
the outcome is determined, for better or for worse
d. Resolution – when all the problems of the character(s) are solved, and
the story is closed
6. Theme – the lesson the author wants us to learn based on his or her beliefs
or ideas about life
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Reading Fiction_Materials_Bridge II
Matching Exercise
Directions: Match each of the literary terms on the left with its
definition on the right. Place the correct letter on the blank in
front of the literary term.
1. _____Climax/Turning point
character
A. struggle within a
2. _____Mood
B. time and place
3. _____Resolution
C. beginning of the plot
4. _____Internal conflict
point
D. the lesson or main
5. _____Plot introduction
E. the main character’s
methods to solve the
conflict
6. _____Theme
F. the most exciting part
7. _____Complications/Rising action
G. problem with another
person or situation
8. _____External conflict
H. the last part of the plot
9. _____Setting
atmosphere
I. the emotional
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Reading Fiction_Materials_Bridge II
Literary Elements PowerPoint (S1-A2)
Teacher’s Note: Have students watch the PowerPoint and take notes.
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Reading Fiction_Materials_Bridge II
After Twenty Years (S1-A3a)
By: O’ Henry
The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not
for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o'clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a
taste of rain in them had well nigh depeopled the streets.
Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful movements, turning now and
then to cast his watchful eye adown the pacific thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight
swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one that kept early hours. Now
and then you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but the majority of the
doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.
When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his walk. In the doorway of a
darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up
to him the man spoke up quickly.
"It's all right, officer," he said, reassuringly. "I'm just waiting for a friend. It's an appointment made
twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesn't it? Well, I'll explain if you'd like to make certain
it's all straight. About that long ago there used to be a restaurant where this store stands--'Big Joe' Brady's
restaurant."
"Until five years ago," said the policeman. "It was torn down then."
The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale, square-jawed face with
keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. His scarfpin was a large diamond, oddly set.
"Twenty years ago to-night," said the man, "I dined here at 'Big Joe' Brady's with Jimmy Wells, my best
chum, and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers,
together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for the West to make my
fortune. You couldn't have dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it was the only place on earth.
Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here again exactly twenty years from that date and time,
no matter what our conditions might be or from what distance we might have to come. We figured that in
twenty years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were
going to be."
"It sounds pretty interesting," said the policeman. "Rather a long time between meets, though, it seems to
me. Haven't you heard from your friend since you left?"
"Well, yes, for a time we corresponded," said the other. "But after a year or two we lost track of each
other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it pretty lively. But I
know Jimmy will meet me here if he's alive, for he always was the truest, stanchest old chap in the world.
He'll never forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door to-night, and it's worth it if my old partner
turns up."
The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small diamonds.
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"Three minutes to ten," he announced. "It was exactly ten o'clock when we parted here at the restaurant
door."
"Did pretty well out West, didn't you?" asked the policeman.
"You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though, good fellow as he was.
I've had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New
York. It takes the West to put a razor-edge on him."
The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.
"I'll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time on him sharp?"
"I should say not!" said the other. "I'll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth he'll be
here by that time. So long, officer."
"Good-night, sir," said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as he went.
There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its uncertain puffs into a steady
blow. The few foot passengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coat collars
turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who had come a thousand
miles to fill an appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar
and waited.
About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with collar turned up to his ears,
hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went directly to the waiting man.
"Is that you, Bob?" he asked, doubtfully.
"Is that you, Jimmy Wells?" cried the man in the door.
"Bless my heart!" exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other's hands with his own. "It's Bob, sure
as fate. I was certain I'd find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well, well! --twenty years is a
long time. The old gone, Bob; I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has
the West treated you, old man?"
"Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You've changed lots, Jimmy. I never thought you were
so tall by two or three inches."
"Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty."
"Doing well in New York, Jimmy?"
"Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on, Bob; we'll go around to a place I
know of, and have a good long talk about old times."
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The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his egotism enlarged by success,
was beginning to outline the history of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with
interest.
At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights. When they came into this glare each of them
turned simultaneously to gaze upon the other's face.
The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.
"You're not Jimmy Wells," he snapped. "Twenty years is a long time, but not long enough to change a
man's nose from a Roman to a pug."
"It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one, said the tall man. "You've been under arrest for ten
minutes, 'Silky' Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us she wants to have
a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? That's sensible. Now, before we go on to the station here's a note
I was asked to hand you. You may read it here at the window. It's from Patrolman Wells."
The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand was steady when he
began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was rather short.
"Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar I saw it was the
face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn't do it myself, so I went around and got a plain
clothes man to do the job. JIMMY."
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Reading Fiction_Materials_Bridge II
“After Twenty Years” Analysis (S1-A3b)
By O. Henry
Directions Part One: Read the O. Henry short story “After Twenty Years.” Use your literary
elements notes from the PowerPoint to answer the following questions about the story. Focus on
the meaning of the words in bold print.
1. A. Describe the setting of the story – the place, the time of day, and the weather.
B. What emotions does the setting make you feel? This is the mood of the story. (Would you
feel differently if the setting were at noontime on a sunny day? Why?)
2. A. A conflict in literature is a struggle between opposing forces. What is the external
conflict in “After Twenty Years?”
B. What is Jimmy’s internal conflict?
3. Characterization – In the note to Bob at the end of the story, Jimmy says, “Somehow I
couldn’t do it myself, so I went around and got a plain-clothes man to do the job.” Why
couldn’t Jimmy do it himself?
4. Pretend that you are Jimmy and I am Bob. You will have to make a decision about whether to
arrest me or not. Give me three good reasons to convince me.
Decision (circle one):
Arrest Bob
vs.
 Reason # 1:
 Reason # 2:
 Reason # 3:
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Let Bob go
Reading Fiction_Materials_Bridge II
Directions Part Two: You will be placed into 1 of two groups. Group one will consist of those
people who would arrest Bob. The second group will consist of people who would not arrest Bob.
In your group, discuss your reasons for arresting/not arresting Bob. Choose the top 5 reasons, and
you will have a chance to debate with the other students who disagree with you. The better your
reasons, the stronger your argument will be.
Directions Part Three: You have had a chance to discuss and think about your reasons for
arresting or not arresting Bob, and now you will have a chance to write about it. Please write an 8
to 10 sentence paragraph stating your opinion (arrest Bob/ do not arrest Bob). Here is your topic
prompt. If you were the policeman Jimmy, would you have Bob arrested? (The answer to this is
your topic sentence. Provide the three best reasons for your decision. (These will be your
supporting details). Then finish with a sentence expressing what you hope will happen to Bob.
(This will be your concluding sentence).
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What is a Constructed Response? (S1-A4)
A constructed response requires you to read something, analyze what you read, and
respond to the reading with your own written response. You must be able to do three key
skills:
 Comprehend what you read
 Organize your thoughts after you read
 Construct a written response to what you read
 Include key examples from the reading in your written response.
Example
In the following example, you will read a short fiction excerpt. Then you will read a
sample topic prompt with an example of a constructed response to that topic prompt.
Fiction excerpt: Taken from “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.
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Topic Prompt: Does Mrs. Mallard truly feel sorrowful when she hears the news of her husband’s
death?
Topic sentence (Answer the question): Although most people would be sorrowful in a situation
where they hear that their spouse has died, this does not seem to be the case with Mrs. Mallard. Even
though she cries, all the details point to happiness, not sorrow.
Supporting detail # 1 (1st reason): First, it says that she did not respond to the news with disbelief
as others might when they first hear bad news and go into shock. “She did not hear the story as many
women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance.” Instead of refusal to
believe, Mrs. Mallard quickly accepted the truth of what happened and immediately began to cry. She
suffered no denial of the news at all.
Supporting Detail # 2 (2nd reason): Next, Mrs. Mallard chooses to grieve alone, but she
experiences the exact opposite of grief when she is alone in her room looking out of her window. For one,
she sees “new spring life” outside of the window of her room. Also, she smells rain in the air, but it’s not
the gloomy, thunderstorm you would expect in a grief-filled story. Instead, there is “a delicious breath of
rain in the air.” Finally, instead of sad sounds, she hears birds singing outside her window. All of these
signs point towards happiness and hope, not sorrow.
Supporting Detail # 3 (3rd reason): The last sign that Mrs. Mallard is more happy and hopeful
rather than sad is the picture of “patches of blue sky” that begin to appear out of the clouds in the scene
through her window. The clouds would symbolize hardship whereas the blue sky symbolizes a good life
to come. It is very possible that the news of Mr. Mallard’s death might come as good news rather than the
bad news that we might expect.
Concluding sentence (restate topic sentence): Due to all these reasons, Mrs. Mallard’s
response is more indicative of joy rather than sorrow.
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Reading Fiction_Materials_Bridge II
THE BET (S1-A5a)
by Anton Chekhov
I
IT WAS a dark autumn night. The old banker was walking up and down his study and remembering how,
fifteen years before, he had given a party one autumn evening. There had been many clever men there,
and there had been interesting conversations. Among other things they had talked of capital punishment.
The majority of the guests, among whom were many journalists and intellectual men, disapproved of the
death penalty. They considered that form of punishment out of date, immoral, and unsuitable for Christian
States. In the opinion of some of them the death penalty ought to be replaced everywhere by
imprisonment for life.
"I don't agree with you," said their host the banker. "I have not tried either the death penalty or
imprisonment for life, but if one may judge à priori, the death penalty is more moral and more humane
than imprisonment for life. Capital punishment kills a man at once, but lifelong imprisonment kills him
slowly. Which executioner is the more humane, he who kills you in a few minutes or he who drags the
life out of you in the course of many years?"
"Both are equally immoral," observed one of the guests, "for they both have the same object -- to take
away life. The State is not God. It has not the right to take away what it cannot restore when it wants to."
Among the guests was a young lawyer, a young man of five-and-twenty. When he was asked his opinion,
he said:
"The death sentence and the life sentence are equally immoral, but if I had to choose between the death
penalty and imprisonment for life, I would certainly choose the second. To live anyhow is better than not
at all."
A lively discussion arose. The banker, who was younger and more nervous in those days, was suddenly
carried away by excitement; he struck the table with his fist and shouted at the young man:
"It's not true! I'll bet you two millions you wouldn't stay in solitary confinement for five years."
"If you mean that in earnest," said the young man, "I'll take the bet, but I would stay not five but fifteen
years."
"Fifteen? Done!" cried the banker. "Gentlemen, I stake two millions!"
"Agreed! You stake your millions and I stake my freedom!" said the young man.
And this wild, senseless bet was carried out! The banker, spoilt and frivolous, with millions beyond his
reckoning, was delighted at the bet. At supper he made fun of the young man, and said:
"Think better of it, young man, while there is still time. To me two millions are a trifle, but you are losing
three or four of the best years of your life. I say three or four, because you won't stay longer. Don't forget
either, you unhappy man, that voluntary confinement is a great deal harder to bear than compulsory. The
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thought that you have the right to step out in liberty at any moment will poison your whole existence in
prison. I am sorry for you."
And now the banker, walking to and fro, remembered all this, and asked himself: "What was the object of
that bet? What is the good of that man's losing fifteen years of his life and my throwing away two
millions? Can it prove that the death penalty is better or worse than imprisonment for life? No, no. It was
all nonsensical and meaningless. On my part it was the caprice of a pampered man, and on his part simple
greed for money. . . ."
Then he remembered what followed that evening. It was decided that the young man should spend the
years of his captivity under the strictest supervision in one of the lodges in the banker's garden. It was
agreed that for fifteen years he should not be free to cross the threshold of the lodge, to see human beings,
to hear the human voice, or to receive letters and newspapers. He was allowed to have a musical
instrument and books, and was allowed to write letters, to drink wine, and to smoke. By the terms of the
agreement, the only relations he could have with the outer world were by a little window made purposely
for that object. He might have anything he wanted -- books, music, wine, and so on -- in any quantity he
desired by writing an order, but could only receive them through the window. The agreement provided for
every detail and every trifle that would make his imprisonment strictly solitary, and bound the young man
to stay there exactly fifteen years, beginning from twelve o'clock of November 14, 1870, and ending at
twelve o'clock of November 14, 1885. The slightest attempt on his part to break the conditions, if only
two minutes before the end, released the banker from the obligation to pay him two millions.
For the first year of his confinement, as far as one could judge from his brief notes, the prisoner suffered
severely from loneliness and depression. The sounds of the piano could be heard continually day and
night from his lodge. He refused wine and tobacco. Wine, he wrote, excites the desires, and desires are the
worst foes of the prisoner; and besides, nothing could be more dreary than drinking good wine and seeing
no one. And tobacco spoilt the air of his room. In the first year the books he sent for were principally of a
light character; novels with a complicated love plot, sensational and fantastic stories, and so on.
In the second year the piano was silent in the lodge, and the prisoner asked only for the classics. In the
fifth year music was audible again, and the prisoner asked for wine. Those who watched him through the
window said that all that year he spent doing nothing but eating and drinking and lying on his bed,
frequently yawning and angrily talking to himself. He did not read books. Sometimes at night he would sit
down to write; he would spend hours writing, and in the morning tear up all that he had written. More
than once he could be heard crying.
In the second half of the sixth year the prisoner began zealously studying languages, philosophy, and
history. He threw himself eagerly into these studies -- so much so that the banker had enough to do to get
him the books he ordered. In the course of four years some six hundred volumes were procured at his
request. It was during this period that the banker received the following letter from his prisoner:
"My dear Jailer, I write you these lines in six languages. Show them to people who know the languages.
Let them read them. If they find not one mistake I implore you to fire a shot in the garden. That shot will
show me that my efforts have not been thrown away. The geniuses of all ages and of all lands speak
different languages, but the same flame burns in them all. Oh, if you only knew what unearthly happiness
my soul feels now from being able to understand them!" The prisoner's desire was fulfilled. The banker
ordered two shots to be fired in the garden.
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Then after the tenth year, the prisoner sat immovably at the table and read nothing but the Gospel. It
seemed strange to the banker that a man who in four years had mastered six hundred learned volumes
should waste nearly a year over one thin book easy of comprehension. Theology and histories of religion
followed the Gospels.
In the last two years of his confinement the prisoner read an immense quantity of books quite
indiscriminately. At one time he was busy with the natural sciences, then he would ask for Byron or
Shakespeare. There were notes in which he demanded at the same time books on chemistry, and a manual
of medicine, and a novel, and some treatise on philosophy or theology. His reading suggested a man
swimming in the sea among the wreckage of his ship, and trying to save his life by greedily clutching first
at one spar and then at another.
II
The old banker remembered all this, and thought:
"To-morrow at twelve o'clock he will regain his freedom. By our agreement I ought to pay him two
millions. If I do pay him, it is all over with me: I shall be utterly ruined."
Fifteen years before, his millions had been beyond his reckoning; now he was afraid to ask himself which
were greater, his debts or his assets. Desperate gambling on the Stock Exchange, wild speculation and the
excitability which he could not get over even in advancing years, had by degrees led to the decline of his
fortune and the proud, fearless, self-confident millionaire had become a banker of middling rank,
trembling at every rise and fall in his investments. "Cursed bet!" muttered the old man, clutching his head
in despair "Why didn't the man die? He is only forty now. He will take my last penny from me, he will
marry, will enjoy life, will gamble on the Exchange; while I shall look at him with envy like a beggar, and
hear from him every day the same sentence: 'I am indebted to you for the happiness of my life, let me help
you!' No, it is too much! The one means of being saved from bankruptcy and disgrace is the death of that
man!"
It struck three o'clock, the banker listened; everyone was asleep in the house and nothing could be heard
outside but the rustling of the chilled trees. Trying to make no noise, he took from a fireproof safe the key
of the door which had not been opened for fifteen years, put on his overcoat, and went out of the house.
It was dark and cold in the garden. Rain was falling. A damp cutting wind was racing about the garden,
howling and giving the trees no rest. The banker strained his eyes, but could see neither the earth nor the
white statues, nor the lodge, nor the trees. Going to the spot where the lodge stood, he twice called the
watchman. No answer followed. Evidently the watchman had sought shelter from the weather, and was
now asleep somewhere either in the kitchen or in the greenhouse.
"If I had the pluck to carry out my intention," thought the old man, "Suspicion would fall first upon the
watchman."
He felt in the darkness for the steps and the door, and went into the entry of the lodge. Then he groped his
way into a little passage and lighted a match. There was not a soul there. There was a bedstead with no
bedding on it, and in the corner there was a dark cast-iron stove. The seals on the door leading to the
prisoner's rooms were intact.
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When the match went out the old man, trembling with emotion, peeped through the little window. A
candle was burning dimly in the prisoner's room. He was sitting at the table. Nothing could be seen but his
back, the hair on his head, and his hands. Open books were lying on the table, on the two easy-chairs, and
on the carpet near the table.
Five minutes passed and the prisoner did not once stir. Fifteen years' imprisonment had taught him to sit
still. The banker tapped at the window with his finger, and the prisoner made no movement whatever in
response. Then the banker cautiously broke the seals off the door and put the key in the keyhole. The
rusty lock gave a grating sound and the door creaked. The banker expected to hear at once footsteps and a
cry of astonishment, but three minutes passed and it was as quiet as ever in the room. He made up his
mind to go in.
At the table a man unlike ordinary people was sitting motionless. He was a skeleton with the skin drawn
tight over his bones, with long curls like a woman's and a shaggy beard. His face was yellow with an
earthy tint in it, his cheeks were hollow, his back long and narrow, and the hand on which his shaggy head
was propped was so thin and delicate that it was dreadful to look at it. His hair was already streaked with
silver, and seeing his emaciated, aged-looking face, no one would have believed that he was only forty.
He was asleep. . . . In front of his bowed head there lay on the table a sheet of paper on which there was
something written in fine handwriting.
"Poor creature!" thought the banker, "he is asleep and most likely dreaming of the millions. And I have
only to take this half-dead man, throw him on the bed, stifle him a little with the pillow, and the most
conscientious expert would find no sign of a violent death. But let us first read what he has written here. .
. ."
The banker took the page from the table and read as follows:
"To-morrow at twelve o'clock I regain my freedom and the right to associate with other men, but before I
leave this room and see the sunshine, I think it necessary to say a few words to you. With a clear
conscience I tell you, as before God, who beholds me, that I despise freedom and life and health, and all
that in your books is called the good things of the world.
"For fifteen years I have been intently studying earthly life. It is true I have not seen the earth nor men,
but in your books I have drunk fragrant wine, I have sung songs, I have hunted stags and wild boars in the
forests, have loved women. . . . Beauties as ethereal as clouds, created by the magic of your poets and
geniuses, have visited me at night, and have whispered in my ears wonderful tales that have set my brain
in a whirl. In your books I have climbed to the peaks of Elburz and Mont Blanc, and from there I have
seen the sun rise and have watched it at evening flood the sky, the ocean, and the mountain-tops with gold
and crimson. I have watched from there the lightning flashing over my head and cleaving the stormclouds. I have seen green forests, fields, rivers, lakes, towns. I have heard the singing of the sirens, and the
strains of the shepherds' pipes; I have touched the wings of comely devils who flew down to converse
with me of God. . . . In your books I have flung myself into the bottomless pit, performed miracles, slain,
burned towns, preached new religions, conquered whole kingdoms. . . .
"Your books have given me wisdom. All that the unresting thought of man has created in the ages is
compressed into a small compass in my brain. I know that I am wiser than all of you.
"And I despise your books, I despise wisdom and the blessings of this world. It is all worthless, fleeting,
illusory, and deceptive, like a mirage. You may be proud, wise, and fine, but death will wipe you off the
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face of the earth as though you were no more than mice burrowing under the floor, and your posterity,
your history, your immortal geniuses will burn or freeze together with the earthly globe.
"You have lost your reason and taken the wrong path. You have taken lies for truth, and hideousness for
beauty. You would marvel if, owing to strange events of some sorts, frogs and lizards suddenly grew on
apple and orange trees instead of fruit, or if roses began to smell like a sweating horse; so I marvel at you
who exchange heaven for earth. I don't want to understand you.
"To prove to you in action how I despise all that you live by, I renounce the two millions of which I once
dreamed as of paradise and which now I despise. To deprive myself of the right to the money I shall go
out from here five hours before the time fixed, and so break the compact. . . ."
When the banker had read this he laid the page on the table, kissed the strange man on the head, and went
out of the lodge, weeping. At no other time, even when he had lost heavily on the Stock Exchange, had he
felt so great a contempt for himself. When he got home he lay on his bed, but his tears and emotion kept
him for hours from sleeping.
Next morning the watchmen ran in with pale faces, and told him they had seen the man who lived in the
lodge climb out of the window into the garden, go to the gate, and disappear. The banker went at once
with the servants to the lodge and made sure of the flight of his prisoner. To avoid arousing unnecessary
talk, he took from the table the writing in which the millions were renounced, and when he got home
locked it up in the fireproof safe.
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Questions for “The Bet”(S1-A5b)
By: Anton Chekhov
1. In this story, the topic is capital punishment. Which character in the story is in favor of capital
punishment?
a. the lawyer
b. the banker
2. According to the banker, …
a. life in prison is better than the death penalty
b. going to prison for two million rubles is worth it
c. execution is kinder than life imprisonment
3. On p. 171, “groped” means…
a. walked
b. sat
c. reached for
d. listened to
4. Anton Chekhov wrote “The Bet” for the purpose of
a. informing the reader
b. persuading the reader
c. entertaining the reader
5. The setting of the story is
a. during the summer on a tropical island
b. in the winter during a war
c. in November spanning 15 years
d. in a Russian gulag
6. After the lawyer leaves his prison, his mood reflects his attitude towards humanity. You can say
that after his prison sentence, the lawyer felt very __________________ about life.
a. relieved
b. amused
c. surprised
d. scornful
7. The author of this story would agree that with the following theme:
a. Capital punishment is a necessary part of civilization.
b. All life is not equal.
c. Wisdom is more valuable than money and possessions.
d. Death is preferable to life in prison.
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8. The turning point in the plot is when
a. the banker tries to kill the lawyer.
b. the banker and the lawyer make the bet.
c. the lawyer reads several books about religion and history.
d. the lawyer leaves the prison cell 5 minutes early.
9.
The entire story is centered on the topic of capital punishment or the death penalty. What is your
opinion? Do you agree with the lawyer or the banker? If you agree with the lawyer, then you are
in favor of life imprisonment. If you agree with the banker, then you support the death penalty.
Write a 10 to 15 sentence constructed response stating your opinion about which side you support.
Support your opinion with at least 3 reasons, including evidence from the story. If you use a direct
quote from the story, be sure to put your quote in quotation marks (“…”). In your response,
include a topic sentence, 3 supporting details, and a concluding sentence. Write in complete
sentences.
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Two Constructed Responses for “The Bet” (S1-A6)
The Lawyer’s Point of View
It would be much better to spend your life in prison rather than to be put to death. First of
all, you can get an education while in prison. For example, if you have not graduated from high
school, you can work on getting your GED. After that, you can even take college courses while in
prison for free. You will have so much time to pursue your education. Secondly, you avoid
causing extra pain to your loved ones. Your family would already be losing you to prison. How
much more pain would it cost them to lose you for good, which brings me to my third point.
Death is so final! It is much better to be alive, even in prison, than to be dead. In summary, life in
prison will always be much better than receiving the death penalty.
The Banker’s Point of View
Spending your life in prison would be the worst thing that could happen to you, so I would
much rather be put to death. First, you would lose all of your freedom and rights. For example,
someone else would tell you when to wake up and go to sleep, when to eat, when to shower, and
when you can go anywhere. Next, you would be imprisoned with criminals, any of whom could
cause you harm. You might share a cell with a murderer, rapist, or mentally ill person. You would
continually have to be on your guard to protect yourself. Finally, the rest of your life would be so
boring and routine, that it would not be worth living. You would not be able to enjoy your family,
travel, eat at restaurants, or do any of the numerous things that make life worth living. For all of
these reasons and more, the death penalty would be much more preferable to life in prison.
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“The Bet” Literary Analysis and Constructed Response (S1)
Teacher’s Note: Have students write their own constructed response of “The Bet” using
the topic prompt on “The Bet” analysis questions handout.
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PowerPoint Mini-Practice (S2-A1)
Purpose: Practice using PowerPoint to create a mini-presentation of your educational goals
Directions:
1. Click on the following link or paste it in your web browser to do a PowerPoint tutorial:
http://www.baycongroup.com/powerpoint2007/index.htm
 Go to lesson 2, “Creating your first PowerPoint presentation
 Click on each of the bulleted points to start learning how to use PowerPoint
2. Click on lesson 3 to start learning about animation.
Assignment: Create a 3 to 4 page PowerPoint demonstrating your educational goals.




First page: Title page with your name and the title “My Goals”
Second page: Your first educational goal
Third page: Your next goal
Fourth page: What you hope to get by reaching your goals
Optional



Practice with different layouts
Experiment with various color designs
Try using animation
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The Necklace (S2-A2a)
By: Guy de Maupassant
She was one of those pretty and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered
over her, into a family of artisans. She had no marriage portion, no expectations, no
means of getting known, understood, loved, and wedded by a man of wealth and
distinction; and she let herself be married off to a little clerk in the Ministry of
Education. Her tastes were simple because she had never been able to afford any
other, but she was as unhappy as though she had married beneath her; for women
have no caste or class, their beauty, grace, and charm serving them for birth or family,
their natural delicacy, their instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are their only
mark of rank, and put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land.
She suffered endlessly, feeling herself born for every delicacy and luxury. She
suffered from the poorness of her house, from its mean walls, worn chairs, and ugly
curtains. All these things, of which other women of her class would not even have been
aware, tormented and insulted her. The sight of the little Breton girl who came to do
the work in her little house aroused heart-broken regrets and hopeless dreams in her
mind. She imagined silent antechambers, heavy with Oriental tapestries, lit by torches
in lofty bronze sockets, with two tall footmen in knee-breeches sleeping in large armchairs, overcome by the heavy warmth of the stove. She imagined vast saloons hung
with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and
small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for little parties of intimate friends,
men who were famous and sought after, whose homage roused every other woman's
envious longings.
When she sat down for dinner at the round table covered with a three-days-old
cloth, opposite her husband, who took the cover off the soup-tureen, exclaiming
delightedly: "Aha! Scotch broth! What could be better?" she imagined delicate meals,
gleaming silver, tapestries peopling the walls with folk of a past age and strange birds
in faery forests; she imagined delicate food served in marvellous dishes, murmured
gallantries, listened to with an inscrutable smile as one trifled with the rosy flesh of
trout or wings of asparagus chicken.
She had no clothes, no jewels, nothing. And these were the only things she loved;
she felt that she was made for them. She had longed so eagerly to charm, to be
desired, to be wildly attractive and sought after.
<2>
She had a rich friend, an old school friend whom she refused to visit, because she
suffered so keenly when she returned home. She would weep whole days, with grief,
regret, despair, and misery. One evening her husband came home with an exultant air,
holding a large envelope in his hand.
"Here's something for you," he said.
Swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were these words:
"The Minister of Education and Madame Ramponneau request the pleasure of the
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company of Monsieur and Madame Loisel at the Ministry on the evening of Monday,
January the 18th."
Instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she flung the invitation
petulantly across the table, murmuring:
"What do you want me to do with this?"
"Why, darling, I thought you'd be pleased. You never go out, and this is a great
occasion. I had tremendous trouble to get it. Every one wants one; it's very select, and
very few go to the clerks. You'll see all the really big people there."
She looked at him out of furious eyes, and said impatiently: "And what do you
suppose I am to wear at such an affair?"
He had not thought about it; he stammered:
"Why, the dress you go to the theatre in. It looks very nice, to me . . ."
He stopped, stupefied and utterly at a loss when he saw that his wife was beginning
to cry. Two large tears ran slowly down from the corners of her eyes towards the
corners of her mouth.
"What's the matter with you? What's the matter with you?" he faltered.
But with a violent effort she overcame her grief and replied in a calm voice, wiping
her wet cheeks:
"Nothing. Only I haven't a dress and so I can't go to this party. Give your invitation
to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out better than I shall."
He was heart-broken.
"Look here, Mathilde," he persisted. "What would be the cost of a suitable dress,
which you could use on other occasions as well, something very simple?"
She thought for several seconds, reckoning up prices and also wondering for how
large a sum she could ask without bringing upon herself an immediate refusal and an
exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk.
<3>
At last she replied with some hesitation:
"I don't know exactly, but I think I could do it on four hundred francs."
He grew slightly pale, for this was exactly the amount he had been saving for a
gun, intending to get a little shooting next summer on the plain of Nanterre with some
friends who went lark-shooting there on Sundays.
Nevertheless he said: "Very well. I'll give you four hundred francs. But try and get
a really nice dress with the money."
The day of the party drew near, and Madame Loisel seemed sad, uneasy and
anxious. Her dress was ready, however. One evening her husband said to her:
"What's the matter with you? You've been very odd for the last three days."
"I'm utterly miserable at not having any jewels, not a single stone, to wear," she
replied. "I shall look absolutely no one. I would almost rather not go to the party."
"Wear flowers," he said. "They're very smart at this time of the year. For ten francs
you could get two or three gorgeous roses."
She was not convinced.
"No . . . there's nothing so humiliating as looking poor in the middle of a lot of rich
women."
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"How stupid you are!" exclaimed her husband. "Go and see Madame Forestier and
ask her to lend you some jewels. You know her quite well enough for that."
She uttered a cry of delight.
"That's true. I never thought of it."
Next day she went to see her friend and told her her trouble.
Madame Forestier went to her dressing-table, took up a large box, brought it to
Madame Loisel, opened it, and said:
"Choose, my dear."
First she saw some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a Venetian cross in gold
and gems, of exquisite workmanship. She tried the effect of the jewels before the
mirror, hesitating, unable to make up her mind to leave them, to give them up. She
kept on asking:
"Haven't you anything else?"
"Yes. Look for yourself. I don't know what you would like best."
Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin case, a superb diamond necklace; her
heart began to beat covetously. Her hands trembled as she lifted it. She fastened it
round her neck, upon her high dress, and remained in ecstasy at sight of herself.
<4>
Then, with hesitation, she asked in anguish:
"Could you lend me this, just this alone?"
"Yes, of course."
She flung herself on her friend's breast, embraced her frenziedly, and went away
with her treasure. The day of the party arrived. Madame Loisel was a success. She was
the prettiest woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling, and quite above herself with
happiness. All the men stared at her, inquired her name, and asked to be introduced to
her. All the Under-Secretaries of State were eager to waltz with her. The Minister
noticed her.
She danced madly, ecstatically, drunk with pleasure, with no thought for anything,
in the triumph of her beauty, in the pride of her success, in a cloud of happiness made
up of this universal homage and admiration, of the desires she had aroused, of the
completeness of a victory so dear to her feminine heart.
She left about four o'clock in the morning. Since midnight her husband had been
dozing in a deserted little room, in company with three other men whose wives were
having a good time. He threw over her shoulders the garments he had brought for
them to go home in, modest everyday clothes, whose poverty clashed with the beauty
of the ball-dress. She was conscious of this and was anxious to hurry away, so that she
should not be noticed by the other women putting on their costly furs.
Loisel restrained her.
"Wait a little. You'll catch cold in the open. I'm going to fetch a cab."
But she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the staircase. When they were
out in the street they could not find a cab; they began to look for one, shouting at the
drivers whom they saw passing in the distance.
They walked down towards the Seine, desperate and shivering. At last they found
on the quay one of those old nightprowling carriages which are only to be seen in Paris
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after dark, as though they were ashamed of their shabbiness in the daylight.
It brought them to their door in the Rue des Martyrs, and sadly they walked up to
their own apartment. It was the end, for her. As for him, he was thinking that he must
be at the office at ten.
She took off the garments in which she had wrapped her shoulders, so as to see
herself in all her glory before the mirror. But suddenly she uttered a cry. The necklace
was no longer round her neck!
<5>
"What's the matter with you?" asked her husband, already half undressed.
She turned towards him in the utmost distress.
"I . . . I . . . I've no longer got Madame Forestier's necklace. . . ."
He started with astonishment.
"What! . . . Impossible!"
They searched in the folds of her dress, in the folds of the coat, in the pockets,
everywhere. They could not find it.
"Are you sure that you still had it on when you came away from the ball?" he
asked.
"Yes, I touched it in the hall at the Ministry."
"But if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall."
"Yes. Probably we should. Did you take the number of the cab?"
"No. You didn't notice it, did you?"
"No."
They stared at one another, dumbfounded. At last Loisel put on his clothes again.
"I'll go over all the ground we walked," he said, "and see if I can't find it."
And he went out. She remained in her evening clothes, lacking strength to get into
bed, huddled on a chair, without volition or power of thought.
Her husband returned about seven. He had found nothing.
He went to the police station, to the newspapers, to offer a reward, to the cab
companies, everywhere that a ray of hope impelled him.
She waited all day long, in the same state of bewilderment at this fearful
catastrophe.
Loisel came home at night, his face lined and pale; he had discovered nothing.
"You must write to your friend," he said, "and tell her that you've broken the clasp
of her necklace and are getting it mended. That will give us time to look about us."
She wrote at his dictation.
By the end of a week they had lost all hope.
Loisel, who had aged five years, declared:
"We must see about replacing the diamonds."
Next day they took the box which had held the necklace and went to the jewellers
whose name was inside. He consulted his books.
"It was not I who sold this necklace, Madame; I must have merely supplied the
clasp."
Then they went from jeweller to jeweller, searching for another necklace like the
first, consulting their memories, both ill with remorse and anguish of mind.
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In a shop at the Palais-Royal they found a string of diamonds which seemed to
them exactly like the one they were looking for. It was worth forty thousand francs.
They were allowed to have it for thirty-six thousand.
<6>
They begged the jeweller not to sell it for three days. And they arranged matters on
the understanding that it would be taken back for thirty-four thousand francs, if the
first one were found before the end of February.
Loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs left to him by his father. He intended to
borrow the rest.
He did borrow it, getting a thousand from one man, five hundred from another, five
louis here, three louis there. He gave notes of hand, entered into ruinous agreements,
did business with usurers and the whole tribe of money-lenders. He mortgaged the
whole remaining years of his existence, risked his signature without even knowing if he
could honour it, and, appalled at the agonising face of the future, at the black misery
about to fall upon him, at the prospect of every possible physical privation and moral
torture, he went to get the new necklace and put down upon the jeweller's counter
thirty-six thousand francs.
When Madame Loisel took back the necklace to Madame Forestier, the latter said to
her in a chilly voice:
"You ought to have brought it back sooner; I might have needed it."
She did not, as her friend had feared, open the case. If she had noticed the
substitution, what would she have thought? What would she have said? Would she not
have taken her for a thief?
Madame Loisel came to know the ghastly life of abject poverty. From the very first she
played her part heroically. This fearful debt must be paid off. She would pay it. The
servant was dismissed. They changed their flat; they took a garret under the roof.
She came to know the heavy work of the house, the hateful duties of the kitchen.
She washed the plates, wearing out her pink nails on the coarse pottery and the
bottoms of pans. She washed the dirty linen, the shirts and dish-cloths, and hung them
out to dry on a string; every morning she took the dustbin down into the street and
carried up the water, stopping on each landing to get her breath. And, clad like a poor
woman, she went to the fruiterer, to the grocer, to the butcher, a basket on her arm,
haggling, insulted, fighting for every wretched halfpenny of her money.
Every month notes had to be paid off, others renewed, time gained.
<7>
Her husband worked in the evenings at putting straight a merchant's accounts, and
often at night he did copying at twopence-halfpenny a page.
And this life lasted ten years.
At the end of ten years everything was paid off, everything, the usurer's charges
and the accumulation of superimposed interest.
Madame Loisel looked old now. She had become like all the other strong, hard,
coarse women of poor households. Her hair was badly done, her skirts were awry, her
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hands were red. She spoke in a shrill voice, and the water slopped all over the floor
when she scrubbed it. But sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat
down by the window and thought of that evening long ago, of the ball at which she had
been so beautiful and so much admired.
What would have happened if she had never lost those jewels. Who knows? Who
knows? How strange life is, how fickle! How little is needed to ruin or to save!
One Sunday, as she had gone for a walk along the Champs-Elysees to freshen
herself after the labours of the week, she caught sight suddenly of a woman who was
taking a child out for a walk. It was Madame Forestier, still young, still beautiful, still
attractive.
Madame Loisel was conscious of some emotion. Should she speak to her? Yes,
certainly. And now that she had paid, she would tell her all. Why not?
She went up to her.
"Good morning, Jeanne."
The other did not recognise her, and was surprised at being thus familiarly
addressed by a poor woman.
"But . . . Madame . . ." she stammered. "I don't know . . . you must be making a
mistake."
"No . . . I am Mathilde Loisel."
Her friend uttered a cry.
"Oh! . . . my poor Mathilde, how you have changed! . . ."
"Yes, I've had some hard times since I saw you last; and many sorrows . . . and all
on your account."
"On my account! . . . How was that?"
"You remember the diamond necklace you lent me for the ball at the Ministry?"
"Yes. Well?"
"Well, I lost it."
"How could you? Why, you brought it back."
"I brought you another one just like it. And for the last ten years we have been
paying for it. You realise it wasn't easy for us; we had no money. . . . Well, it's paid for
at last, and I'm glad indeed."
<8>
Madame Forestier had halted.
"You say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?"
"Yes. You hadn't noticed it? They were very much alike."
And she smiled in proud and innocent happiness.
Madame Forestier, deeply moved, took her two hands.
"Oh, my poor Mathilde! But mine was imitation. It was worth at the very most five
hundred francs! . . . "
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The Necklace Discussion Questions (S2-A2b)
Directions: With a partner, read the following questions out loud. Discuss possible
answers to each question. Answer each of the following questions with a complete
sentence. Back up your answer with evidence from the story. For example, refer to
parts of the story when answering the question.
1. What kind of lifestyle do the Loisels have at the beginning of the story? Would you
say that they are upper-class, middle-class, or lower-class? What is your evidence?
2. How would you describe Monsieur Loisel? Is he a good husband or a bad husband?
Use evidence from the story.
3. Was it necessary for Madame Loisel to have jewels to wear to the ball? Why or why
not?
4. What would have happened if Madame Loisel had been honest with Mathilde about
the necklace?
5. Do you feel sorry for Madame Loisel? Why or why not?
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The Necklace Literary Analysis (S2-A3)
By: Guy de Maupassant
Directions: For numbers 1-7, read each question, and circle the best answer.
1. How would you describe the main character, Madame Loisel?
a.
b.
c.
d.
generous
compassionate
dissatisfied
caring
2. What happens last in the plot?
a.
b.
c.
d.
Mathilde lost the necklace.
The Loisels took on extra work to repay the necklace.
Monsieur Loisel brought Mathilde the invitation to the ball.
Mathilde learned that Madame Forestier’s necklace was fake.
3. Where was The Necklace set?
a.
b.
c.
d.
Russia
France
United States
Germany
4. How would you describe the mood of the story?
a.
b.
c.
d.
serious
playful
optimistic
silly
5. When Mathilde lost the necklace, she entered into a conflict with Madame Forestier. What
kind of conflict is this?
a. external
b. internal
6. Which of the following statements best describes the theme of the story?
a.
b.
c.
d.
Crime never pays.
You win some, you lose some.
Be satisfied with what you have in life.
Blood is thicker than water.
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“The Necklace” Analysis and Note-taking Activity (S2)
1. Setting
 Location:
 Time period:
2. Main characters
 Names:
 Description (conversation, thoughts, and actions):
3. Plot summary
 Introduction (conflict):
 Rising action:
 Climax/Turning point:
 Falling action:
 Resolution:
4. Mood
 What is the emotional atmosphere?
5. Theme
 What did you learn from the story?
 What do you think is the author’s hidden message?
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“The Necklace” PowerPoint Presentation Assignment (FP)
Directions: After you have completed your reading of the short story “The
Necklace,” and you have completed the Discussion questions activity, you are
ready to prepare for your PowerPoint presentation. The goal of your
presentation is to do a literary analysis of the “The Necklace,” and you will
share your analysis with your classmates. Please follow the steps below, and
when you are finished, save all of your work in the Travel Folder.
1. The title page of your PowerPoint should include the following: title of the
short story and the author’s name. If you want to include a picture, that will
be fine.
2. Create 1-2 pages for each of the following literary elements: setting,
characters, plot (including conflict), mood, and theme.
3. For each section, you must include at least 1 graphic and some written
explanation.
4. On each page, use examples from the story and provide in-depth analysis for
each section:
 Setting page: include time and place
 Characters page: include the names of the main characters and some
description from the story
 Plot page: Introduction with conflict, rising action, turning point/climax,
falling action, and resolution
 Mood page: the different emotions the characters feel at different points
in the story
 Theme page: The lessons to be learned or the main idea(s) that the author
is trying to get across to the reader
5. Final page: you will give your opinion about the story on the last page of
the PowerPoint. Did you like it? What did you like? Did you dislike it?
What didn’t you like? Would you recommend the book to someone else?
Why?
6. Your PowerPoint should be at least 7 pages but no longer than 10 pages.
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