The snow was falling, and the Cat's fur was stiffly pointed with it, but he was imperturbable.
He sat crouched, ready for the death-spring, as he had sat for hours. It was night but that
made no difference, all times were as one to the Cat when he was in wait for prey. Then, too,
he was under no constraint of human will, for he was living alone that winter. Nowhere in the
world was any voice calling him; on no hearth was there a waiting dish. He was quite free
except for his own desires, which tyrannized over him when unsatisfied as now. The Cat was
very hungry. almost famished, in fact. For days the weather had been very bitter...and the
Cat's long hunt had availed him nothing. But he waited with the inconceivable patience and
persistency of his race; besides, he was certain. The Cat was a creature of absolute
convictions, and his faith in his deductions never wavered. The rabbit had gone in there
between those low-hung pine boughs. The Cat had seen her enter...so he sat down and
waited, and he waited still in the white night, listening angrily to the north wind starting in
the upper heights of the mountains with distant screams, then swelling into an awful
crescendo of rage, and swooping down with furious white wings of snow like a flock of
fierce eagles into the valleys and ravines. The Cat was on the side of a mountain, on a
wooded terrace. Above him, a few feet away towered the rock ascent as steep as the wall of a
cathedral. He had often looked with wonder at the rock, and miauled bitterly and resentfully
as man does in the face of a forbidding Providence. At his left was the sheer precipice.
Behind him...was the frozen perpendicular wall of a mountain stream. Before him was the
way to his home. When the rabbit came out she was trapped; her little cloven feet could not
scale such unbroken steeps. So the Cat waited. The tangle of trees and bushes clinging to the
mountain-side with a stern clutch of roots, the prostrate trunks and branches, the vines
embracing everything with strong knots and coils of growth, had a curious effect, as of things
which had whirled for ages in a current of raging water, only it was not water, but wind,
which had disposed everything in circling lines of yielding to its fiercest points of onset. It
was as if ice needles pricked his skin through his beautiful thick fur, but he never faltered and
never once cried. He had nothing to gain from crying, and everything to lose; the rabbit
would hear him cry and know he was waiting.
[Excerpts from a Short story, „The Cat‟ by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman]
1. Which of the following suggests a synonymous meaning to the words ‗Providence‘ and
‗Crescendo‘ respectively?a) Nemesis, Apex
b) Zenith, Nadir
c) Laxity, Prudence
d) Short-sightedness, Upsurge
2. The passage has been adorned with numerous figure of speeches. Which of the following
combinations is correct?a) Irony and Sarcasm
b) Alliteration and Pun
c) Simile and Personification
d) Metaphor and Onomatopoeia
3. The passage best demonstrates which one of the following motifs of Cat‘s Life?a) To satisfy the pangs of hunger
b) To survive the harsh winters
c) A never ending wait
d) To hunt for Rabbit
4. The Author‘s description of ―...he was under no constraint of human will, for he was
living alone...‖ implies:a) Cat‘s absolute freedom from everything
b) Cat‘s no association with human beings
c) Cat‘s loneliness
d) Cat‘s tyrannical demeanour
5. The lines, ―...but he never faltered and never once cried. He had nothing to gain from
crying, and everything to lose...‖, suggest that the Cat is:a) Reflective
b) Apologetic
c) Resilient
d) Frustrated