The Awakening

by Kate Chopin


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Chapter XXXV


The morning was full of sunlight and hope. Edna could see before her no denial—only the promise of excessive joy. She lay in bed awake, with bright eyes full of speculation. “He loves you, poor fool.” If she could but get that conviction firmly fixed in her mind, what mattered about the rest? She felt she had been childish and unwise the night before in giving herself over to despondency. She recapitulated the motives which no doubt explained Robert's reserve. They were not insurmountable; they would not hold if he really loved her; they could not hold against her own passion, which he must come to realize in time. She pictured him going to his business that morning. She even saw how he was dressed; how he walked down one street, and turned the corner of another; saw him bending over his desk, talking to people who entered the office, going to his lunch, and perhaps watching for her on the street. He would come to her in the afternoon or evening, sit and roll his cigarette, talk a little, and go away as he had done the night before. But how delicious it would be to have him there with her! She would have no regrets, nor seek to penetrate his reserve if he still chose to wear it.

Edna ate her breakfast only half dressed. The maid brought her a delicious printed scrawl from Raoul, expressing his love, asking her to send him some bonbons, and telling her they had found that morning ten tiny white pigs all lying in a row beside Lidie's big white pig.

A letter also came from her husband, saying he hoped to be back early in March, and then they would get ready for that journey abroad which he had promised her so long, which he felt now fully able to afford; he felt able to travel as people should, without any thought of small economies—thanks to his recent speculations in Wall Street.

Much to her surprise she received a note from Arobin, written at midnight from the club. It was to say good morning to her, to hope she had slept well, to assure her of his devotion, which he trusted she in some faintest manner returned.

All these letters were pleasing to her. She answered the children in a cheerful frame of mind, promising them bonbons, and congratulating them upon their happy find of the little pigs.

She answered her husband with friendly evasiveness, —not with any fixed design to mislead him, only because all sense of reality had gone out of her life; she had abandoned herself to Fate, and awaited the consequences with indifference.

To Arobin's note she made no reply. She put it under Celestine's stove-lid.

Edna worked several hours with much spirit. She saw no one but a picture dealer, who asked her if it were true that she was going abroad to study in Paris.

She said possibly she might, and he negotiated with her for some Parisian studies to reach him in time for the holiday trade in December.

Robert did not come that day. She was keenly disappointed. He did not come the following day, nor the next. Each morning she awoke with hope, and each night she was a prey to despondency. She was tempted to seek him out. But far from yielding to the impulse, she avoided any occasion which might throw her in his way. She did not go to Mademoiselle Reisz's nor pass by Madame Lebrun's, as she might have done if he had still been in Mexico.

When Arobin, one night, urged her to drive with him, she went—out to the lake, on the Shell Road. His horses were full of mettle, and even a little unmanageable. She liked the rapid gait at which they spun along, and the quick, sharp sound of the horses' hoofs on the hard road. They did not stop anywhere to eat or to drink. Arobin was not needlessly imprudent. But they ate and they drank when they regained Edna's little dining-room—which was comparatively early in the evening.

It was late when he left her. It was getting to be more than a passing whim with Arobin to see her and be with her. He had detected the latent sensuality, which unfolded under his delicate sense of her nature's requirements like a torpid, torrid, sensitive blossom.

There was no despondency when she fell asleep that night; nor was there hope when she awoke in the morning.

Frequently Asked Questions about Chapter XXXV from The Awakening

What happens in Chapter 35 of The Awakening?

Edna Pontellier wakes optimistic that Robert Lebrun loves her despite his reserve the night before. She receives three letters—from her son Raoul, her husband Léonce, and Alcée Arobin—and responds to each differently: warmly to the children, evasively to her husband, and not at all to Arobin. She paints productively and negotiates a commission with a picture dealer, but Robert does not visit that day or for several days after. When Arobin invites her for a drive along the Shell Road, she accepts, and the chapter ends with Arobin staying late at her house, his attentions replacing Edna’s emotional turmoil with a kind of sensual numbness.

Why does Robert not visit Edna in Chapter 35 of The Awakening?

The chapter never provides an explicit reason for Robert’s absence, which is precisely the point. Edna spends the morning inventing explanations—Creole propriety, respect for her marriage, simple shyness—but none are confirmed. His failure to appear that day, the next, or the day after forces Edna into a cycle of hope each morning and despondency each night. Kate Chopin uses the silence to show that Edna’s romantic fantasy depends entirely on Robert’s initiative; she disciplines herself not to seek him out, revealing both her pride and the limits of her newly claimed independence.

What three letters does Edna receive in Chapter 35 of The Awakening?

Edna receives three letters that represent the competing claims on her identity. Raoul, her young son, sends a charming note asking for bonbons and describing ten tiny white pigs found beside Lidie’s big pig. Léonce Pontellier writes that he will return in March and that they can now afford a European trip thanks to his Wall Street profits. Alcée Arobin sends a midnight note from his club declaring his devotion. Edna answers the children cheerfully, responds to Léonce with “friendly evasiveness,” and burns Arobin’s note under Celestine’s stove-lid—three responses that chart her emotional detachment from all three relationships.

What does the ending of Chapter 35 mean in The Awakening?

The chapter’s final line—“There was no despondency when she fell asleep that night; nor was there hope when she awoke in the morning”—marks a pivotal emotional shift. Earlier, Edna oscillated between hope (mornings) and despair (nights) as she waited for Robert. After spending the evening with Arobin, that cycle breaks: the physical pleasure he provides neither satisfies her deeper longing nor causes guilt. The result is a flattened emotional landscape—numbness rather than feeling—foreshadowing the existential emptiness that will drive the novel’s final chapters.

What is Arobin’s role in Chapter 35 of The Awakening?

Alcée Arobin serves as a foil to Robert Lebrun throughout the novel, and Chapter 35 crystallizes the contrast. Where Robert withdraws, Arobin pursues. He sends a flattering midnight note, persuades Edna to drive to the lake along the Shell Road, and stays late in her dining room. Kate Chopin writes that Arobin has “detected the latent sensuality” in Edna, which unfolds under his attention “like a torpid, torrid, sensitive blossom.” His growing attachment fills the void Robert leaves, but it provides only physical comfort, not the emotional or intellectual connection Edna craves.

How does Edna respond to her husband’s letter in Chapter 35?

Edna answers Léonce’s letter with “friendly evasiveness”—not to deliberately deceive him, Chopin specifies, but because “all sense of reality had gone out of her life.” Léonce has written excitedly about returning in March and taking the European trip he promised, newly affordable thanks to Wall Street speculation. Edna does not refuse or accept; she simply cannot engage with the marital future he envisions. She has “abandoned herself to Fate, and awaited the consequences with indifference,” a phrase that captures how completely she has drifted from the role of dutiful wife and the conventional life it demands.

 

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