1
"The Storm" was written by Kate Chopin on July 19, 1898. The short story was first
published in The Complete Works of Kate Chopin in 1969. The story is set in the
late nineteenth century at Friedheimer's store in Louisiana, and at the nearby house
of Calixta and Bobinôt. Read the complete text here...
THE STORM
I
The leaves were so still that even Bibi thought it was going to rain. Bobinôt, who
was accustomed to converse on terms of perfect equality with his little son, called
the child's attention to certain sombre clouds that were rolling with sinister
intention from the west, accompanied by a sullen, threatening roar. They were at
Friedheimer's store and decided to remain there till the storm had passed. They sat
within the door on two empty kegs. Bibi was four years old and looked very wise.
"Mama'll be 'fraid, yes, he suggested with blinking eyes.
"She'll shut the house. Maybe she got Sylvie helpin' her this evenin'," Bobinôt
responded reassuringly.
"No; she ent got Sylvie. Sylvie was helpin' her yistiday,' piped Bibi.
Bobinôt arose and going across to the counter purchased a can of shrimps, of
which Calixta was very fond. Then he retumed to his perch on the keg and sat
stolidly holding the can of shrimps while the storm burst. It shook the wooden store
and seemed to be ripping great furrows in the distant field. Bibi laid his little hand
on his father's knee and was not afraid.
II
Calixta, at home, felt no uneasiness for their safety. She sat at a side window
sewing furiously on a sewing machine. She was greatly occupied and did not
notice the approaching storm. But she felt very warm and often stopped to mop her
face on which the perspiration gathered in beads. She unfastened her white sacque
at the throat. It began to grow dark, and suddenly realizing the situation she got up
hurriedly and went about closing windows and doors.
Out on the small front gallery she had hung Bobinôt's Sunday clothes to dry and
she hastened out to gather them before the rain fell. As she stepped outside, Alcée
Laballière rode in at the gate. She had not seen him very often since her marriage,
and never alone. She stood there with Bobinôt's coat in her hands, and the big rain
drops began to fall. Alcée rode his horse under the shelter of a side projection
where the chickens had huddled and there were plows and a harrow piled up in
