The Awakening

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Chapter V

They formed a congenial group sitting there that summer afternoon—Madame Ratignolle sewing away, often stopping to relate a story or incident with much expressive gesture of her perfect hands; Robert and Mrs. Pontellier sitting idle, exchanging occasional words, glances or smiles which indicated a certain advanced stage of intimacy and camaraderie.

He had lived in her shadow during the past month. No one thought anything of it. Many had predicted that Robert would devote himself to Mrs. Pontellier when he arrived. Since the age of fifteen, which was eleven years before, Robert each summer at Grand Isle had constituted himself the devoted attendant of some fair dame or damsel. Sometimes it was a young girl, again a widow; but as often as not it was some interesting married woman.

For two consecutive seasons he lived in the sunlight of Mademoiselle Duvigne's presence. But she died between summers; then Robert posed as an inconsolable, prostrating himself at the feet of Madame Ratignolle for whatever crumbs of sympathy and comfort she might be pleased to vouchsafe.

Mrs. Pontellier liked to sit and gaze at her fair companion as she might look upon a faultless Madonna.

“Could any one fathom the cruelty beneath that fair exterior?” murmured Robert. “She knew that I adored her once, and she let me adore her. It was `Robert, come; go; stand up; sit down; do this; do that; see if the baby sleeps; my thimble, please, that I left God knows where. Come and read Daudet to me while I sew.'”

“Par exemple! I never had to ask. You were always there under my feet, like a troublesome cat.”

“You mean like an adoring dog. And just as soon as Ratignolle appeared on the scene, then it was like a dog. `Passez! Adieu! Allez vous-en!'”

“Perhaps I feared to make Alphonse jealous,” she interjoined, with excessive naivete. That made them all laugh. The right hand jealous of the left! The heart jealous of the soul! But for that matter, the Creole husband is never jealous; with him the gangrene passion is one which has become dwarfed by disuse.

Meanwhile Robert, addressing Mrs Pontellier, continued to tell of his one time hopeless passion for Madame Ratignolle; of sleepless nights, of consuming flames till the very sea sizzled when he took his daily plunge. While the lady at the needle kept up a little running, contemptuous comment:

“Blagueur—farceur—gros bete, va!”

He never assumed this seriocomic tone when alone with Mrs. Pontellier. She never knew precisely what to make of it; at that moment it was impossible for her to guess how much of it was jest and what proportion was earnest. It was understood that he had often spoken words of love to Madame Ratignolle, without any thought of being taken seriously. Mrs. Pontellier was glad he had not assumed a similar role toward herself. It would have been unacceptable and annoying.

Mrs. Pontellier had brought her sketching materials, which she sometimes dabbled with in an unprofessional way. She liked the dabbling. She felt in it satisfaction of a kind which no other employment afforded her.

She had long wished to try herself on Madame Ratignolle. Never had that lady seemed a more tempting subject than at that moment, seated there like some sensuous Madonna, with the gleam of the fading day enriching her splendid color.

Robert crossed over and seated himself upon the step below Mrs. Pontellier, that he might watch her work. She handled her brushes with a certain ease and freedom which came, not from long and close acquaintance with them, but from a natural aptitude. Robert followed her work with close attention, giving forth little ejaculatory expressions of appreciation in French, which he addressed to Madame Ratignolle.

“Mais ce n'est pas mal! Elle s'y connait, elle a de la force, oui.”

During his oblivious attention he once quietly rested his head against Mrs. Pontellier's arm. As gently she repulsed him. Once again he repeated the offense. She could not but believe it to be thoughtlessness on his part; yet that was no reason she should submit to it. She did not remonstrate, except again to repulse him quietly but firmly. He offered no apology.

The picture completed bore no resemblance to Madame Ratignolle. She was greatly disappointed to find that it did not look like her. But it was a fair enough piece of work, and in many respects satisfying.

Mrs. Pontellier evidently did not think so. After surveying the sketch critically she drew a broad smudge of paint across its surface, and crumpled the paper between her hands.

The youngsters came tumbling up the steps, the quadroon following at the respectful distance which they required her to observe. Mrs. Pontellier made them carry her paints and things into the house. She sought to detain them for a little talk and some pleasantry. But they were greatly in earnest. They had only come to investigate the contents of the bonbon box. They accepted without murmuring what she chose to give them, each holding out two chubby hands scoop-like, in the vain hope that they might be filled; and then away they went.

The sun was low in the west, and the breeze soft and languorous that came up from the south, charged with the seductive odor of the sea. Children freshly befurbelowed, were gathering for their games under the oaks. Their voices were high and penetrating.

Madame Ratignolle folded her sewing, placing thimble, scissors, and thread all neatly together in the roll, which she pinned securely. She complained of faintness. Mrs. Pontellier flew for the cologne water and a fan. She bathed Madame Ratignolle's face with cologne, while Robert plied the fan with unnecessary vigor.

The spell was soon over, and Mrs. Pontellier could not help wondering if there were not a little imagination responsible for its origin, for the rose tint had never faded from her friend's face.

She stood watching the fair woman walk down the long line of galleries with the grace and majesty which queens are sometimes supposed to possess. Her little ones ran to meet her. Two of them clung about her white skirts, the third she took from its nurse and with a thousand endearments bore it along in her own fond, encircling arms. Though, as everybody well knew, the doctor had forbidden her to lift so much as a pin!

“Are you going bathing?” asked Robert of Mrs. Pontellier. It was not so much a question as a reminder.

“Oh, no,” she answered, with a tone of indecision. “I'm tired; I think not.” Her glance wandered from his face away toward the Gulf, whose sonorous murmur reached her like a loving but imperative entreaty.

“Oh, come!” he insisted. “You mustn't miss your bath. Come on. The water must be delicious; it will not hurt you. Come.”

He reached up for her big, rough straw hat that hung on a peg outside the door, and put it on her head. They descended the steps, and walked away together toward the beach. The sun was low in the west and the breeze was soft and warm.

Frequently Asked Questions about Chapter V from The Awakening

What is the significance of Robert Lebrun's history of summer flirtations in Chapter V?

The narrator reveals that Robert Lebrun has spent every summer since age fifteen attaching himself to a different woman at Grand Isle—sometimes a young girl, a widow, or a married woman. This history initially frames Robert as a harmless social charmer whose attentions carry no real consequence in the permissive Creole culture of the resort. However, the chapter subtly distinguishes his relationship with Edna Pontellier from these earlier attachments: he never adopts his usual seriocomic, performative tone when alone with her. This signals that his feelings for Edna are developing into something genuine, setting the stage for the emotional affair that becomes the catalyst for Edna's awakening throughout Kate Chopin's novel The Awakening.

Why does Edna destroy her portrait of Madame Ratignolle?

After spending the afternoon sketching Madame Ratignolle, Edna finds that the finished portrait bears no resemblance to her subject. Despite others considering it “a fair enough piece of work, and in many respects satisfying,” Edna draws a broad smudge of paint across the surface and crumples the paper. This impulsive act of destruction reveals several things about Edna's character: her dissatisfaction runs deeper than the painting itself, reflecting a gap between her inner vision and her ability to express it. Art provides her a “satisfaction of a kind which no other employment afforded her,” yet she holds herself to an exacting standard she cannot yet meet. The moment foreshadows the pattern of frustrated aspiration and radical self-assertion that defines her journey in The Awakening.

How does Chapter V contrast Edna Pontellier and Madame Ratignolle?

Kate Chopin uses Chapter V to establish Madame Ratignolle as a deliberate foil to Edna Pontellier. Madame Ratignolle is described twice as a Madonna figure—first “faultless” and then “sensuous”—embodying the ideal “mother-woman” of late-nineteenth-century Creole society. She sews contentedly, departs surrounded by adoring children, and carries her baby despite doctor's orders, fully merging her identity with motherhood. Edna, by contrast, sits idle, takes up her sketching materials for personal satisfaction, and watches Madame Ratignolle's maternal performance with detached curiosity rather than envy. Where Ratignolle is complete in her domestic role, Edna is restless within hers—a distinction that deepens as the novel progresses.

What role does the sea play at the end of Chapter V?

The chapter closes with the Gulf's “sonorous murmur” reaching Edna “like a loving but imperative entreaty,” an image that personifies the sea as both tender and commanding. Edna initially declines Robert's invitation to swim, claiming fatigue, yet the sea's call proves irresistible and she yields. In The Awakening, the sea consistently symbolizes freedom, sensuality, and the pull of Edna's emerging desires. Its description here as “loving but imperative” captures the dual nature of Edna's awakening: it is at once pleasurable and inescapable, a force she cannot resist even when she tries. This moment foreshadows the sea's central role in the novel's climax.

What do the French phrases in Chapter V reveal about the social setting?

Chapter V is peppered with French expressions—“Par exemple!” “Passez! Adieu! Allez vous-en!” “Blagueur—farceur—gros bête, va!” and Robert's praise of Edna's painting, “Mais ce n'est pas mal! Elle s'y connaît.” These phrases serve multiple purposes in Kate Chopin's narrative. They establish the Creole cultural milieu of Grand Isle, where bilingualism is natural and conversation flows easily between languages. They also underscore Edna Pontellier's position as a cultural outsider—raised in a Kentucky Presbyterian household, she must navigate not only unfamiliar social codes around flirtation and marriage but a literal language she does not fully command. The French dialogue reinforces the sense that Edna is entering a world whose rules she is only beginning to understand.

Why is Edna's sketching important in The Awakening Chapter V?

Edna's decision to sketch Madame Ratignolle introduces the motif of art as self-expression that runs throughout The Awakening. The narrator notes that Edna dabbles “in an unprofessional way” but finds in it “satisfaction of a kind which no other employment afforded her.” This is a revealing statement: none of Edna's expected roles—wife, mother, hostess—provides the fulfillment that creative work does. She possesses “a natural aptitude” rather than formal training, suggesting raw talent that has gone undeveloped within the constraints of her life. Her subsequent destruction of the portrait shows that artistic satisfaction and artistic frustration are deeply intertwined for her—she wants more from herself than she has yet been allowed to become. This thread leads to her later commitment to painting as a path toward independence.