Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage. No one was acquainted with her family name.
with her family name. Her first work The beauty of the sky, the enthusiasm of these Romans, and
Chapter 6.1
The following is an excerpt from Corinne (1807) by Madame De
Steel.
I awoke in Rome. My first looks were saluted by the brilliancy of
an Italian sun, and my soul was penetrated with a sentiment of
love and gratitude towards that Power which seemed
manifested in its resplendent beams. I heard the church bells;
the firing of a cannon at intervals announced some great
solemnity. I demanded the cause of it, and was informed that
that morning was to be crowned, at the Capitol, the most
celebrated woman in Italy: Corinne, to poetess, writer, and one
of the greatest beauties of Rome. I made some enquiries
respecting this ceremony and all the answers that I received
strongly excited my curiosity.
I made my way to the public square, where I heard everybody
speaking of the genius and talents of Corinne. The streets
through which she was to pass had been decorated; the people,
who rarely assemble together except to pay their homage to
fortune or power, were, upon this occasion, almost in a tumult
to behold a female whose mind was her only claim to
distinction. In the actual state of the Italians the field of glory is
only open to them in the fine arts, and they possess a sensibility
for genius in that department. Everywhere I heard her name
accompanied with some anecdote, which implied the
possession of all those talents that captivate the imagination.
One said that her voice was the most touching in Italy; another,
that nobody played tragedy like her, somebody else, that she
danced like a nymph, and designed with as much taste as
invention: all said that nobody had ever written or improvised
such fine verses, and that, in habitual conversation she
possessed by turns, a grace and an eloquence which charmed
every mind.
had appeared five years before, and only bore the name of
Corinne; nobody knew where she had lived, nor what she had
been before that time: she was, however, nearly twenty-six
years of age. This mystery and publicity both at the same time,
this woman of whom everybody spoke, but whose real name
was known to nobody, appeared to me one of the wonders of
the singular country I had just come to live in.
Very fine and brilliant music preceded the arrival of the
triumphal procession. Any event, whatever it may be, which is
announced by music, always produces emotion. A way was
made through the crowd for the four white horses that drew
the car of Corinne which was constructed upon an antique
model; young girls, dressed in white, walked on each side of
her. Wherever she passed an abundance of perfumes was
thrown into the air; the windows, decorated with flowers and
scarlet tapestry, were crowded with spectators; everybody
cried, "Long five Corinne!" "Long live Genius and Beauty!" The
emotion was general but I did not yet share it, until at last, I
beheld Corinne.
She was dressed like the Sybil of Domenichino; her dress was
white, with blue drapery from her bosom downwards, and her
costume was very picturesque, at the same time without
departing so much from established modes as to savor of
affectation. Her attitude on the car was noble and modest: it
was easily perceived that she was pleased with being admired.
but a sense of timidity was mingled with her joy, and seemed
to ask pardon for her triumph. The expression of her
physiognomy, of her eyes, of her smile, interested all in her
favor, and the first look made me her friend, even before that
sentiment was subdued by a warmer impression. She gave at
once the idea of a priestess of Apollo advancing towards the
temple of the Sun, and of a woman of perfect simplicity in the
common relations of life.
above all Corinne, electrified my imagination. I had often, in
my own country, seen statesmen carried in triumph by the
people, but this was the first time I had been a witness of the
honors paid to a woman-a woman illustrious only by the gifts
of genius. Her chariot of victory was not purchased at the cost
of the tears of any human being, and no regret, no terror
overshadowed that admiration which the highest endowments
of nature, imagination, sentiment and mind, could not fail to
excite.
It was at the foot of the flight of steps which leads to the
Capitol, that the car finally stopped. Corinne stepped out of
the car and made a genuflection with so much nobleness and
modesty, so much gentleness and dignity, that in that moment
I felt my eyes moist with tears: I was astonished at my own
tenderness, but in the midst of all her pomp and triumph it
seemed to me that Corinne had implored, by her looks, the
protection of a friend--that protection which no woman,
however superior, can dispense with; and how sweet, said I
within myself, would it be to become the support of her to
whom sensibility alone renders that support necessary.
1. Over the course of the passage, the main focus shifts from
A) a general discussion of the narrator's surroundings to
specific detail.
B) a recounting of the narrator's anticipation of an event to
the event's effect on him.
C) a portrayal of the narrator's idol to an analysis of her role in
society.
D) a description of a tradition to an anecdote about a
celebration of that tradition.
2. The narrator's description of Rome in the first paragraph
primarily serves to
A) provide context for the purpose of the narrator's visit.
B) identify the nationality of a celebrated character.
C) establish a mood of anticipation and festivity.
D) characterize the narrator as naturally inquisitive.
Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.
Chapter 6.1
The following is an excerpt from Corinne (1807) by Madame De
Steel.
I awoke in Rome. My first looks were saluted by the brilliancy of
an Italian sun, and my soul was penetrated with a sentiment of
love and gratitude towards that Power which seemed
manifested in its resplendent beams. I heard the church bells;
the firing of a cannon at intervals announced some great
solemnity. I demanded the cause of it, and was informed that
that morning was to be crowned, at the Capitol, the most
celebrated woman in Italy: Corinne, to poetess, writer, and one
of the greatest beauties of Rome. I made some enquiries
respecting this ceremony and all the answers that I received
strongly excited my curiosity.
I made my way to the public square, where I heard everybody
speaking of the genius and talents of Corinne. The streets
through which she was to pass had been decorated; the people,
who rarely assemble together except to pay their homage to
fortune or power, were, upon this occasion, almost in a tumult
to behold a female whose mind was her only claim to
distinction. In the actual state of the Italians the field of glory is
only open to them in the fine arts, and they possess a sensibility
for genius in that department. Everywhere I heard her name
accompanied with some anecdote, which implied the
possession of all those talents that captivate the imagination.
One said that her voice was the most touching in Italy; another,
that nobody played tragedy like her, somebody else, that she
danced like a nymph, and designed with as much taste as
invention: all said that nobody had ever written or improvised
such fine verses, and that, in habitual conversation she
possessed by turns, a grace and an eloquence which charmed
every mind.
No one was acquainted with her family name. Her first work
had appeared five years before, and only bore the name of
Corinne; nobody knew where she had lived, nor what she had
been before that time: she was, however, nearly twenty-six
years of age. This mystery and publicity both at the same time,
this woman of whom everybody spoke, but whose real name
was known to nobody, appeared to me one of the wonders of
the singular country I had just come to live in.
Very fine and brilliant music preceded the arrival of the
triumphal procession. Any event, whatever it may be, which is
announced by music, always produces emotion. A way was
made through the crowd for the four white horses that drew
the car of Corinne which was constructed upon an antique
model; young girls, dressed in white, walked on each side of
her. Wherever she passed an abundance of perfumes was
thrown into the air; the windows, decorated with flowers and
scarlet tapestry, were crowded with spectators; everybody
cried, "Long five Corinne!" "Long live Genius and Beauty!" The
emotion was general but I did not yet share it, until at last, I
beheld Corinne.
She was dressed like the Sybil of Domenichino; her dress was
white, with blue drapery from her bosom downwards, and her
costume was very picturesque, at the same time without
departing so much from established modes as to savor of
affectation. Her attitude on the car was noble and modest: it
was easily perceived that she was pleased with being admired.
but a sense of timidity was mingled with her joy, and seemed
to ask pardon for her triumph. The expression of her
physiognomy, of her eyes, of her smile, interested all in her
favor, and the first look made me her friend, even before that
sentiment was subdued by a warmer impression. She gave at
once the idea of a priestess of Apollo advancing towards the
temple of the Sun, and of a woman of perfect simplicity in the
common relations of life.
The beauty of the sky, the enthusiasm of these Romans, and
above all Corinne, electrified my imagination. I had often, in
my own country, seen statesmen carried in triumph by the
people, but this was the first time I had been a witness of the
honors paid to a woman-a woman illustrious only by the gifts
of genius. Her chariot of victory was not purchased at the cost
of the tears of any human being, and no regret, no terror
overshadowed that admiration which the highest endowments
of nature, imagination, sentiment and mind, could not fail to
excite.
It was at the foot of the flight of steps which leads to the
Capitol, that the car finally stopped. Corinne stepped out of
the car and made a genuflection with so much nobleness and
modesty, so much gentleness and dignity, that in that moment
I felt my eyes moist with tears: I was astonished at my own
tenderness, but in the midst of all her pomp and triumph it
seemed to me that Corinne had implored, by her looks, the
protection of a friend--that protection which no woman,
however superior, can dispense with; and how sweet, said I
within myself, would it be to become the support of her to
whom sensibility alone renders that support necessary.
3. Which choice best describes a technique the narrator uses to
represent Corinne's character during the procession?
A) The narrator emphasizes the complexity of Corinne's character
by describing the various paradoxes within her persona.
B) The narrator hints at the insecurity reflected in Corinne's
character by depicting her as searching for the protection of a
friend.
C) The narrator demonstrates the enigmatic nature of Corinne's
character by referencing the mystery surrounding her identity.
D) The narrator underscores the unpretentious nature of
Corinne's character by portraying her distaste for public attention.
Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.
Chapter 6.1
The following is an excerpt from Corinne (1807) by Madame De
Steel.
I awoke in Rome. My first looks were saluted by the brilliancy of
an Italian sun, and my soul was penetrated with a sentiment of
love and gratitude towards that Power which seemed
manifested in its resplendent beams. I heard the church bells;
the firing of a cannon at intervals announced some great
solemnity. I demanded the cause of it, and was informed that
that morning was to be crowned, at the Capitol, the most
celebrated woman in Italy: Corinne, to poetess, writer, and one
of the greatest beauties of Rome. I made some enquiries
respecting this ceremony and all the answers that I received
strongly excited my curiosity.
I made my way to the public square, where I heard everybody
speaking of the genius and talents of Corinne. The streets
through which she was to pass had been decorated; the people,
who rarely assemble together except to pay their homage to
fortune or power, were, upon this occasion, almost in a tumult
to behold a female whose mind was her only claim to
distinction. In the actual state of the Italians the field of glory is
only open to them in the fine arts, and they possess a sensibility
for genius in that department. Everywhere I heard her name
accompanied with some anecdote, which implied the
possession of all those talents that captivate the imagination.
One said that her voice was the most touching in Italy; another,
that nobody played tragedy like her, somebody else, that she
danced like a nymph, and designed with as much taste as
invention: all said that nobody had ever written or improvised
such fine verses, and that, in habitual conversation she
possessed by turns, a grace and an eloquence which charmed
every mind.
No one was acquainted with her family name. Her first work
had appeared five years before, and only bore the name of
Corinne; nobody knew where she had lived, nor what she had
been before that time: she was, however, nearly twenty-six
years of age. This mystery and publicity both at the same time,
this woman of whom everybody spoke, but whose real name
was known to nobody, appeared to me one of the wonders of
the singular country I had just come to live in.
Very fine and brilliant music preceded the arrival of the
triumphal procession. Any event, whatever it may be, which is
announced by music, always produces emotion. A way was
made through the crowd for the four white horses that drew
the car of Corinne which was constructed upon an antique
model; young girls, dressed in white, walked on each side of
her. Wherever she passed an abundance of perfumes was
thrown into the air; the windows, decorated with flowers and
scarlet tapestry, were crowded with spectators; everybody
cried, "Long five Corinne!" "Long live Genius and Beauty!" The
emotion was general but I did not yet share it, until at last, I
beheld Corinne.
She was dressed like the Sybil of Domenichino; her dress was
white, with blue drapery from her bosom downwards, and her
costume was very picturesque, at the same time without
departing so much from established modes as to savor of
affectation. Her attitude on the car was noble and modest: it
was easily perceived that she was pleased with being admired.
but a sense of timidity was mingled with her joy, and seemed
to ask pardon for her triumph. The expression of her
physiognomy, of her eyes, of her smile, interested all in her
favor, and the first look made me her friend, even before that
sentiment was subdued by a warmer impression. She gave at
once the idea of a priestess of Apollo advancing towards the
temple of the Sun, and of a woman of perfect simplicity in the
common relations of life.
The beauty of the sky, the enthusiasm of these Romans, and
above all Corinne, electrified my imagination. I had often, in
my own country, seen statesmen carried in triumph by the
people, but this was the first time I had been a witness of the
honors paid to a woman-a woman illustrious only by the gifts
of genius. Her chariot of victory was not purchased at the cost
of the tears of any human being, and no regret, no terror
overshadowed that admiration which the highest endowments
of nature, imagination, sentiment and mind, could not fail to
excite.
It was at the foot of the flight of steps which leads to the
Capitol, that the car finally stopped. Corinne stepped out of
the car and made a genuflection with so much nobleness and
modesty, so much gentleness and dignity, that in that moment
I felt my eyes moist with tears: I was astonished at my own
tenderness, but in the midst of all her pomp and triumph it
seemed to me that Corinne had implored, by her looks, the
protection of a friend--that protection which no woman,
however superior, can dispense with; and how sweet, said I
within myself, would it be to become the support of her to
whom sensibility alone renders that support necessary.
4. The passage indicates that what makes the tribute to Corinne
important to those in Italy is that she is celebrated
A) as a woman who has triumphed in a field dominated by men.
B) as a person with qualities of a purely artistic nature.
C) as an unassuming idol who is humble and accessible to her
adorers.
D) as an artist who has accomplished more than others of her
age.
7. As used in line 23, "a sensibility" most nearly means
A) an awareness.
B) a sensitivity.
C) an intuition.
D) an affinity.
Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.
Chapter 6.1
The following is an excerpt from Corinne (1807) by Madame De
Steel.
I awoke in Rome. My first looks were saluted by the brilliancy of
an Italian sun, and my soul was penetrated with a sentiment of
love and gratitude towards that Power which seemed
manifested in its resplendent beams. I heard the church bells;
the firing of a cannon at intervals announced some great
solemnity. I demanded the cause of it, and was informed that
that morning was to be crowned, at the Capitol, the most
celebrated woman in Italy: Corinne, to poetess, writer, and one
of the greatest beauties of Rome. I made some enquiries
respecting this ceremony and all the answers that I received
strongly excited my curiosity.
I made my way to the public square, where I heard everybody
speaking of the genius and talents of Corinne. The streets
through which she was to pass had been decorated; the people,
who rarely assemble together except to pay their homage to
fortune or power, were, upon this occasion, almost in a tumult
to behold a female whose mind was her only claim to
distinction. In the actual state of the Italians the field of glory is
only open to them in the fine arts, and they possess a sensibility
for genius in that department. Everywhere I heard her name
accompanied with some anecdote, which implied the
possession of all those talents that captivate the imagination.
One said that her voice was the most touching in Italy; another,
that nobody played tragedy like her, somebody else, that she
danced like a nymph, and designed with as much taste as
invention: all said that nobody had ever written or improvised
such fine verses, and that, in habitual conversation she
possessed by turns, a grace and an eloquence which charmed
every mind.
No one was acquainted with her family name. Her first work
had appeared five years before, and only bore the name of
Corinne; nobody knew where she had lived, nor what she had
been before that time: she was, however, nearly twenty-six
years of age. This mystery and publicity both at the same time,
this woman of whom everybody spoke, but whose real name
was known to nobody, appeared to me one of the wonders of
the singular country I had just come to live in.
Very fine and brilliant music preceded the arrival of the
triumphal procession. Any event, whatever it may be, which is
announced by music, always produces emotion. A way was
made through the crowd for the four white horses that drew
the car of Corinne which was constructed upon an antique
model; young girls, dressed in white, walked on each side of
her. Wherever she passed an abundance of perfumes was
thrown into the air; the windows, decorated with flowers and
scarlet tapestry, were crowded with spectators; everybody
cried, "Long five Corinne!" "Long live Genius and Beauty!" The
emotion was general but I did not yet share it, until at last, I
beheld Corinne.
She was dressed like the Sybil of Domenichino; her dress was
white, with blue drapery from her bosom downwards, and her
costume was very picturesque, at the same time without
departing so much from established modes as to savor of
affectation. Her attitude on the car was noble and modest: it
was easily perceived that she was pleased with being admired.
but a sense of timidity was mingled with her joy, and seemed
to ask pardon for her triumph. The expression of her
physiognomy, of her eyes, of her smile, interested all in her
favor, and the first look made me her friend, even before that
sentiment was subdued by a warmer impression. She gave at
once the idea of a priestess of Apollo advancing towards the
temple of the Sun, and of a woman of perfect simplicity in the
common relations of life.
The beauty of the sky, the enthusiasm of these Romans, and
above all Corinne, electrified my imagination. I had often, in
my own country, seen statesmen carried in triumph by the
people, but this was the first time I had been a witness of the
honors paid to a woman-a woman illustrious only by the gifts
of genius. Her chariot of victory was not purchased at the cost
of the tears of any human being, and no regret, no terror
overshadowed that admiration which the highest endowments
of nature, imagination, sentiment and mind, could not fail to
excite.
It was at the foot of the flight of steps which leads to the
Capitol, that the car finally stopped. Corinne stepped out of
the car and made a genuflection with so much nobleness and
modesty, so much gentleness and dignity, that in that moment
I felt my eyes moist with tears: I was astonished at my own
tenderness, but in the midst of all her pomp and triumph it
seemed to me that Corinne had implored, by her looks, the
protection of a friend--that protection which no woman,
however superior, can dispense with; and how sweet, said I
within myself, would it be to become the support of her to
whom sensibility alone renders that support necessary.
5. It can be reasonably inferred from the passage that the
narrator reacts to the frenzy preceding Corinne's appearance
with
A) skepticism, but not complete disbelief.
B) intrigue, but not complete captivation.
C) excitement, but not complete abandon.
D) respect, but not complete worship.
6. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to
the previous question?
A) Lines 11-13 ("I made...curiosity)
B) Lines 24-26 ("Everywhere l...imagination")
C) Lines 44-46 ("Any event… emotion")
D) Lines 54-56 ("The emotion...Corinne")
Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.
Chapter 6.1
The following is an excerpt from Corinne (1807) by Madame De
Steel.
I awoke in Rome. My first looks were saluted by the brilliancy of
an Italian sun, and my soul was penetrated with a sentiment of
love and gratitude towards that Power which seemed
manifested in its resplendent beams. I heard the church bells;
the firing of a cannon at intervals announced some great
solemnity. I demanded the cause of it, and was informed that
that morning was to be crowned, at the Capitol, the most
celebrated woman in Italy: Corinne, to poetess, writer, and one
of the greatest beauties of Rome. I made some enquiries
respecting this ceremony and all the answers that I received
strongly excited my curiosity.
I made my way to the public square, where I heard everybody
speaking of the genius and talents of Corinne. The streets
through which she was to pass had been decorated; the people,
who rarely assemble together except to pay their homage to
fortune or power, were, upon this occasion, almost in a tumult
to behold a female whose mind was her only claim to
distinction. In the actual state of the Italians the field of glory is
only open to them in the fine arts, and they possess a sensibility
for genius in that department. Everywhere I heard her name
accompanied with some anecdote, which implied the
possession of all those talents that captivate the imagination.
One said that her voice was the most touching in Italy; another,
that nobody played tragedy like her, somebody else, that she
danced like a nymph, and designed with as much taste as
invention: all said that nobody had ever written or improvised
such fine verses, and that, in habitual conversation she
possessed by turns, a grace and an eloquence which charmed
every mind.
No one was acquainted with her family name. Her first work
had appeared five years before, and only bore the name of
Corinne; nobody knew where she had lived, nor what she had
been before that time: she was, however, nearly twenty-six
years of age. This mystery and publicity both at the same time,
this woman of whom everybody spoke, but whose real name
was known to nobody, appeared to me one of the wonders of
the singular country I had just come to live in.
Very fine and brilliant music preceded the arrival of the
triumphal procession. Any event, whatever it may be, which is
announced by music, always produces emotion. A way was
made through the crowd for the four white horses that drew
the car of Corinne which was constructed upon an antique
model; young girls, dressed in white, walked on each side of
her. Wherever she passed an abundance of perfumes was
thrown into the air; the windows, decorated with flowers and
scarlet tapestry, were crowded with spectators; everybody
cried, "Long five Corinne!" "Long live Genius and Beauty!" The
emotion was general but I did not yet share it, until at last, I
beheld Corinne.
She was dressed like the Sybil of Domenichino; her dress was
white, with blue drapery from her bosom downwards, and her
costume was very picturesque, at the same time without
departing so much from established modes as to savor of
affectation. Her attitude on the car was noble and modest: it
was easily perceived that she was pleased with being admired.
but a sense of timidity was mingled with her joy, and seemed
to ask pardon for her triumph. The expression of her
physiognomy, of her eyes, of her smile, interested all in her
favor, and the first look made me her friend, even before that
sentiment was subdued by a warmer impression. She gave at
once the idea of a priestess of Apollo advancing towards the
temple of the Sun, and of a woman of perfect simplicity in the
common relations of life.
The beauty of the sky, the enthusiasm of these Romans, and
above all Corinne, electrified my imagination. I had often, in
my own country, seen statesmen carried in triumph by the
people, but this was the first time I had been a witness of the
honors paid to a woman-a woman illustrious only by the gifts
of genius. Her chariot of victory was not purchased at the cost
of the tears of any human being, and no regret, no terror
overshadowed that admiration which the highest endowments
of nature, imagination, sentiment and mind, could not fail to
excite.
It was at the foot of the flight of steps which leads to the
Capitol, that the car finally stopped. Corinne stepped out of
the car and made a genuflection with so much nobleness and
modesty, so much gentleness and dignity, that in that moment
I felt my eyes moist with tears: I was astonished at my own
tenderness, but in the midst of all her pomp and triumph it
seemed to me that Corinne had implored, by her looks, the
protection of a friend--that protection which no woman,
however superior, can dispense with; and how sweet, said I
within myself, would it be to become the support of her to
whom sensibility alone renders that support necessary.
8. As compared to other personalities whose triumphant
celebrations have been witnessed by the narrator, Corinne is
portrayed as
A) having more beauty.
B) deserving greater fame .
C) possessing less dignity.
D) arousing less fear.
9. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the
previous question?
A) Lines 57-59 ("She was...picturesque" )
B) Lines 62-65 ("it was...triumph")
C) Lines 76-79 (“this was...genius“)
D) Lines 79-81 ("Her chariot...admiration")
Questions 1-10 are based on the following passage.
Chapter 6.1
The following is an excerpt from Corinne (1807) by Madame De
Steel.
I awoke in Rome. My first looks were saluted by the brilliancy of
an Italian sun, and my soul was penetrated with a sentiment of
love and gratitude towards that Power which seemed
manifested in its resplendent beams. I heard the church bells;
the firing of a cannon at intervals announced some great
solemnity. I demanded the cause of it, and was informed that
that morning was to be crowned, at the Capitol, the most
celebrated woman in Italy: Corinne, to poetess, writer, and one
of the greatest beauties of Rome. I made some enquiries
respecting this ceremony and all the answers that I received
strongly excited my curiosity.
I made my way to the public square, where I heard everybody
speaking of the genius and talents of Corinne. The streets
through which she was to pass had been decorated; the people,
who rarely assemble together except to pay their homage to
fortune or power, were, upon this occasion, almost in a tumult
to behold a female whose mind was her only claim to
distinction. In the actual state of the Italians the field of glory is
only open to them in the fine arts, and they possess a sensibility
for genius in that department. Everywhere I heard her name
accompanied with some anecdote, which implied the
possession of all those talents that captivate the imagination.
One said that her voice was the most touching in Italy; another,
that nobody played tragedy like her, somebody else, that she
danced like a nymph, and designed with as much taste as
invention: all said that nobody had ever written or improvised
such fine verses, and that, in habitual conversation she
possessed by turns, a grace and an eloquence which charmed
every mind.
No one was acquainted with her family name. Her first work
had appeared five years before, and only bore the name of
Corinne; nobody knew where she had lived, nor what she had
been before that time: she was, however, nearly twenty-six
years of age. This mystery and publicity both at the same time,
this woman of whom everybody spoke, but whose real name
was known to nobody, appeared to me one of the wonders of
the singular country I had just come to live in.
Very fine and brilliant music preceded the arrival of the
triumphal procession. Any event, whatever it may be, which is
announced by music, always produces emotion. A way was
made through the crowd for the four white horses that drew
the car of Corinne which was constructed upon an antique
model; young girls, dressed in white, walked on each side of
her. Wherever she passed an abundance of perfumes was
thrown into the air; the windows, decorated with flowers and
scarlet tapestry, were crowded with spectators; everybody
cried, "Long five Corinne!" "Long live Genius and Beauty!" The
emotion was general but I did not yet share it, until at last, I
beheld Corinne.
She was dressed like the Sybil of Domenichino; her dress was
white, with blue drapery from her bosom downwards, and her
costume was very picturesque, at the same time without
departing so much from established modes as to savor of
affectation. Her attitude on the car was noble and modest: it
was easily perceived that she was pleased with being admired.
but a sense of timidity was mingled with her joy, and seemed
to ask pardon for her triumph. The expression of her
physiognomy, of her eyes, of her smile, interested all in her
favor, and the first look made me her friend, even before that
sentiment was subdued by a warmer impression. She gave at
once the idea of a priestess of Apollo advancing towards the
temple of the Sun, and of a woman of perfect simplicity in the
common relations of life.
The beauty of the sky, the enthusiasm of these Romans, and
above all Corinne, electrified my imagination. I had often, in
my own country, seen statesmen carried in triumph by the
people, but this was the first time I had been a witness of the
honors paid to a woman-a woman illustrious only by the gifts
of genius. Her chariot of victory was not purchased at the cost
of the tears of any human being, and no regret, no terror
overshadowed that admiration which the highest endowments
of nature, imagination, sentiment and mind, could not fail to
excite.
It was at the foot of the flight of steps which leads to the
Capitol, that the car finally stopped. Corinne stepped out of
the car and made a genuflection with so much nobleness and
modesty, so much gentleness and dignity, that in that moment
I felt my eyes moist with tears: I was astonished at my own
tenderness, but in the midst of all her pomp and triumph it
seemed to me that Corinne had implored, by her looks, the
protection of a friend--that protection which no woman,
however superior, can dispense with; and how sweet, said I
within myself, would it be to become the support of her to
whom sensibility alone renders that support necessary.
10. The main idea of the last paragraph is that
A) the celebration culminates in Corinne's greeting of the
audience.
B) the narrator is encouraged by the connection between him
and Corinne.
C) the narrator is moved by Corinne's display of virtue and
vulnerability.
D) Corinne is overwhelmed by the tumultuous gathering around
her.
Question 1-10 are based on the following passage.
This passage is excerpted from Jules Verne, Around the
World in Eighty Days. Originally published in 1873.
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was
exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were
such as to demand but little from the sole domestic. but
Phileas Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly
prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had
dismissed James Forster. because that luckless youth had
brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees
Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six: and he was awaiting his
successor, who was due at the house between eleven and
half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet
close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his
hands resting on his knees, his body straight. his head
erect: he was steadily watching a complicated clock which
indicated the hours, the minutes. the seconds, the days.
the months. and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr.
Fogg would. according to his daily habit. quit Saville Row.
and repair to the Reform.1
Amp at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy
apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James
Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.
“The new servant,” said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
“You are a Frenchman, I believe,” asked Phileas Fogg,
“and your name is John?”
“Jean, if monsieur pleases” replied the newcomer,
“Jean Passepartout. a surname which has clung to me
because I have a natural aptness for going out of one
business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur,
but, to be outspoken. I've had several trades. I've
been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to
vault like Leotard2 and dance on a rope like Blondin 3.
Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics. so as to
make better use of my talents: and then I was a
sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big
fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing
to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a
valet here in England. Finding myself out of place. and
hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most
exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom. I
have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him
a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of
Passepartout?”
“Passepartout suits me.” responded Mr. Fogg. “You
are well recommended to me: I hear a good report of
you. You know my conditions?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Good! What time is it?”
“Twenty-two minutes after eleven,” returned
Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from
the depths of his pocket.
“You are too slow,” said Mr. Fogg.
“Pardon me. monsieur, it is impossible.”
“You are four minutes too slow. No matter- it's enough to
mention the error. Now from this moment. twenty-nine
minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you
are in my service.”
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his
head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once: it was his new
master going out. He heard it shut again: it was his so
predecessor. James Forster. departing in his turn.
Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.
1
A private members' club in London
2 A French acrobat
3
A French tightrope walker and acrobat
1 Over the course of the passage. the main focus shifts from
A) a description of one character to an illustration of that
character's interactions with another character.
B) a characterization of the upper classes to an exposure of
problems with the social order.
C) a depiction of a particular place and time to a prediction
about one man's future.
D) opinions held by an employer to the views asserted by a
potential employee.
Question 1-10 are based on the following passage.
This passage is excerpted from Jules Verne, Around the
World in Eighty Days. Originally published in 1873.
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was
exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were
such as to demand but little from the sole domestic. but
Phileas Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly
prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had
dismissed James Forster. because that luckless youth had
brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees
Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six: and he was awaiting his
successor, who was due at the house between eleven and
half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet
close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his
hands resting on his knees, his body straight. his head
erect: he was steadily watching a complicated clock which
indicated the hours, the minutes. the seconds, the days.
the months. and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr.
Fogg would. according to his daily habit. quit Saville Row.
and repair to the Reform.1
Amp at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy
apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James
Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.
“The new servant,” said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
“You are a Frenchman, I believe,” asked Phileas Fogg,
“and your name is John?”
“Jean, if monsieur pleases” replied the newcomer,
“Jean Passepartout. a surname which has clung to me
because I have a natural aptness for going out of one
business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur,
but, to be outspoken. I've had several trades. I've
been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to
vault like Leotard2 and dance on a rope like Blondin 3.
Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics. so as to
make better use of my talents: and then I was a
sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big
fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing
to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a
valet here in England. Finding myself out of place. and
hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most
exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom. I
have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him
a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of
Passepartout?”
“Passepartout suits me.” responded Mr. Fogg. “You
are well recommended to me: I hear a good report of
you. You know my conditions?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Good! What time is it?”
“Twenty-two minutes after eleven,” returned
Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from
the depths of his pocket.
“You are too slow,” said Mr. Fogg.
“Pardon me. monsieur, it is impossible.”
“You are four minutes too slow. No matter- it's enough to
mention the error. Now from this moment. twenty-nine
minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you
are in my service.”
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his
head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once: it was his new
master going out. He heard it shut again: it was his so
predecessor. James Forster. departing in his turn.
Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.
1
A private members' club in London
2 A French acrobat
3
A French tightrope walker and acrobat
2 The narrator describes the circumstances under which James
Forster was fired most likely in order to
A) emphasize the standards that Phileas Fogg demands from his
employees.
B) demonstrate the unfairness of Phileas Fogg's methods.
C) represent social conditions that Phileas Fogg perpetuates.
D) show Phileas Fogg's random acts of cruelty.
3 In paragraph two (lines 10-17), the narrator characterizes Mr.
Fogg as someone who
A) lacks friends and unwillingly spends most of his time in
solitude.
B) has become jaded and predictable after time spent in the
military.
C) has high standards for both comportment and punctuality.
D) becomes bored easily because of his lack of interests.
Question 1-10 are based on the following passage.
This passage is excerpted from Jules Verne, Around the
World in Eighty Days. Originally published in 1873.
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was
exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were
such as to demand but little from the sole domestic. but
Phileas Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly
prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had
dismissed James Forster. because that luckless youth had
brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees
Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six: and he was awaiting his
successor, who was due at the house between eleven and
half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet
close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his
hands resting on his knees, his body straight. his head
erect: he was steadily watching a complicated clock which
indicated the hours, the minutes. the seconds, the days.
the months. and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr.
Fogg would. according to his daily habit. quit Saville Row.
and repair to the Reform.1
Amp at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy
apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James
Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.
“The new servant,” said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
“You are a Frenchman, I believe,” asked Phileas Fogg,
“and your name is John?”
“Jean, if monsieur pleases” replied the newcomer,
“Jean Passepartout. a surname which has clung to me
because I have a natural aptness for going out of one
business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur,
but, to be outspoken. I've had several trades. I've
been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to
vault like Leotard2 and dance on a rope like Blondin 3.
Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics. so as to
make better use of my talents: and then I was a
sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big
fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing
to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a
valet here in England. Finding myself out of place. and
hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most
exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom. I
have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him
a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of
Passepartout?”
“Passepartout suits me.” responded Mr. Fogg. “You
are well recommended to me: I hear a good report of
you. You know my conditions?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Good! What time is it?”
“Twenty-two minutes after eleven,” returned
Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from
the depths of his pocket.
“You are too slow,” said Mr. Fogg.
“Pardon me. monsieur, it is impossible.”
“You are four minutes too slow. No matter- it's enough to
mention the error. Now from this moment. twenty-nine
minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you
are in my service.”
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his
head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once: it was his new
master going out. He heard it shut again: it was his so
predecessor. James Forster. departing in his turn.
Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.
1
A private members' club in London
2 A French acrobat
3
A French tightrope walker and acrobat
4 As used in line 22, "advanced" most nearly means
A) promoted.
B) approached
C) loaned.
D) supported
5 In the seventh paragraph (lines 33-40). the words "sweets,"
"settled," and "tranquil" primarily serve to
A) characterize Passepartout’s past.
B) reveal Passepartout's harsh and manipulative side.
C) describe Passepartout’s approach to all of his career choices.
D) describe Passepartout's ideal work environment.
Question 1-10 are based on the following passage.
This passage is excerpted from Jules Verne, Around the
World in Eighty Days. Originally published in 1873.
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was
exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were
such as to demand but little from the sole domestic. but
Phileas Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly
prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had
dismissed James Forster. because that luckless youth had
brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees
Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six: and he was awaiting his
successor, who was due at the house between eleven and
half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet
close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his
hands resting on his knees, his body straight. his head
erect: he was steadily watching a complicated clock which
indicated the hours, the minutes. the seconds, the days.
the months. and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr.
Fogg would. according to his daily habit. quit Saville Row.
and repair to the Reform.1
Amp at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy
apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James
Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.
“The new servant,” said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
“You are a Frenchman, I believe,” asked Phileas Fogg,
“and your name is John?”
“Jean, if monsieur pleases” replied the newcomer,
“Jean Passepartout. a surname which has clung to me
because I have a natural aptness for going out of one
business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur,
but, to be outspoken. I've had several trades. I've
been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to
vault like Leotard2 and dance on a rope like Blondin 3.
Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics. so as to
make better use of my talents: and then I was a
sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big
fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing
to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a
valet here in England. Finding myself out of place. and
hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most
exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom. I
have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him
a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of
Passepartout?”
“Passepartout suits me.” responded Mr. Fogg. “You
are well recommended to me: I hear a good report of
you. You know my conditions?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Good! What time is it?”
“Twenty-two minutes after eleven,” returned
Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from
the depths of his pocket.
“You are too slow,” said Mr. Fogg.
“Pardon me. monsieur, it is impossible.”
“You are four minutes too slow. No matter- it's enough to
mention the error. Now from this moment. twenty-nine
minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you
are in my service.”
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his
head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once: it was his new
master going out. He heard it shut again: it was his so
predecessor. James Forster. departing in his turn.
Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.
1
A private members' club in London
2 A French acrobat
3
A French tightrope walker and acrobat
6 Mr. Fogg's 'conditions' (line 43) can reasonably be inferred to
include
A) the exacting and precise standards he expects of his
employees.
B) his employee's willingness to take on a variety of different
jobs.
C) excellent references from former employers.
D) a name that he finds suitable.
7 Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the
previous question?
A) lines 4-5 ("Phileas ... regular")
B) lines 26-28 ("I ... another")
C) line 41 ("Passepartout ... me")
D) lines 41-42 ("You are ... you")
Question 1-10 are based on the following passage.
This passage is excerpted from Jules Verne, Around the
World in Eighty Days. Originally published in 1873.
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was
exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were
such as to demand but little from the sole domestic. but
Phileas Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly
prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had
dismissed James Forster. because that luckless youth had
brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees
Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six: and he was awaiting his
successor, who was due at the house between eleven and
half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet
close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his
hands resting on his knees, his body straight. his head
erect: he was steadily watching a complicated clock which
indicated the hours, the minutes. the seconds, the days.
the months. and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr.
Fogg would. according to his daily habit. quit Saville Row.
and repair to the Reform.1
Amp at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy
apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James
Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.
“The new servant,” said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
“You are a Frenchman, I believe,” asked Phileas Fogg,
“and your name is John?”
“Jean, if monsieur pleases” replied the newcomer,
“Jean Passepartout. a surname which has clung to me
because I have a natural aptness for going out of one
business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur,
but, to be outspoken. I've had several trades. I've
been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to
vault like Leotard2 and dance on a rope like Blondin 3.
Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics. so as to
make better use of my talents: and then I was a
sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big
fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing
to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a
valet here in England. Finding myself out of place. and
hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most
exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom. I
have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him
a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of
Passepartout?”
“Passepartout suits me.” responded Mr. Fogg. “You
are well recommended to me: I hear a good report of
you. You know my conditions?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Good! What time is it?”
“Twenty-two minutes after eleven,” returned
Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from
the depths of his pocket.
“You are too slow,” said Mr. Fogg.
“Pardon me. monsieur, it is impossible.”
“You are four minutes too slow. No matter- it's enough to
mention the error. Now from this moment. twenty-nine
minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you
are in my service.”
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his
head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once: it was his new
master going out. He heard it shut again: it was his so
predecessor. James Forster. departing in his turn.
Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.
1
A private members' club in London
2 A French acrobat
3
A French tightrope walker and acrobat
8 At the end of the passage, the discussion about the time
suggests that Mr. Fogg's attitude towards his new employee will
be
A) strict and harshly unforgiving.
B) exacting but initially lenient.
C) pleasant and constantly relaxed.
D) annoyed but frequently fatherly.
9 Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the
previous question?
A) line 49 ("You ... Fogg")
B) line 50 ("Pardon ... impossible")
C) line 51 ("You ... slow")
D) lines 51-52 ("No ... error")
Question 1-10 are based on the following passage.
This passage is excerpted from Jules Verne, Around the
World in Eighty Days. Originally published in 1873.
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was
exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were
such as to demand but little from the sole domestic. but
Line Phileas Fogg required him to be almost
superhumanly prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of
October he had dismissed James Forster. because that
luckless youth had brought him shaving-water at eighty-
four degrees Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six: and he was
awaiting his successor, who was due at the house
between eleven and half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet
close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his
hands resting on his knees, his body straight. his head
erect: he was steadily watching a complicated clock which
indicated the hours, the minutes. the seconds, the days.
the months. and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr.
Fogg would. according to his daily habit. quit Saville Row.
and repair to the Reform.1
Amp at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy
apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James
Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.
“The new servant,” said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
“You are a Frenchman, I believe,” asked Phileas Fogg,
“and your name is John?”
“Jean, if monsieur pleases” replied the newcomer,
“Jean Passepartout. a surname which has clung to me
because I have a natural aptness for going out of one
business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur,
but, to be outspoken. I've had several trades. I've
been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to
vault like Leotard2 and dance on a rope like Blondin 3.
Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics. so as to
make better use of my talents: and then I was a
sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big
fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing
to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a
valet here in England. Finding myself out of place. and
hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most
exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom. I
have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him
a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of
Passepartout?”
“Passepartout suits me.” responded Mr. Fogg. “You
are well recommended to me: I hear a good report of
you. You know my conditions?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Good! What time is it?”
“Twenty-two minutes after eleven,” returned
Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from
the depths of his pocket.
“You are too slow,” said Mr. Fogg.
“Pardon me. monsieur, it is impossible.”
“You are four minutes too slow. No matter- it's enough to
mention the error. Now from this moment. twenty-nine
minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you
are in my service.”
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his
head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once: it was his new
master going out. He heard it shut again: it was his so
predecessor. James Forster. departing in his turn.
Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.
1
A private members' club in London
2 A French acrobat
3
A French tightrope walker and acrobat
10 In the final two paragraphs (lines 55-61). the description of
Mr. Fogg's departure mainly serves to
A) show that Passepartout already has full control over Fogg's
household.
B) demonstrate Fogg's rudeness towards anyone of a lower
class.
C) highlight the plight of the previous servant.
D) emphasize the abrupt decision Fogg has made to hire
Passepartout.