NYS CC ELA Regents January 2024 Part I

Reading Comprehension Passage A The Accursed House In this excerpt from a short story, the landlord of an apartment building lowers the rent and the tenants react in an unexpected manner.

The Vicomte (1) de B—, an amiable and charming young man, was peacefully enjoying an income of 30,000 livres yearly, when, unfortunately for him, his uncle, a miser of the worst species, died, leaving him all his wealth, amounting to nearly two millions.

In running through the documents of succession, the Vicomte de B— learned that he (5) was the proprietor of a house in the Rue de la Victoire. He learned, also, that the unfurnished building, bought in 1849 for 300,000 francs, now brought in, clear of taxes, rentals of 82,000 francs a year.

“Too much, too much, entirely,” thought the generous vicomte, “my uncle was too hard; to rent at this price is usury, (2) one can not deny it. When one bears a great name like mine, (10) one should not lend himself to such plundering. I will begin tomorrow to lower rents, and my tenants will bless me.”

With this excellent purpose in view, the Vicomte de B— sent immediately for the concièrge3 of the building, who presented himself as promptly, with back bent like a bow.

“Bernard, my friend,” said the vicomte, “go at once from me and notify all your tenants (15) that I lower their rents by one-third.”

That unheard-of word “lower” fell like a brick on Bernard’s head. But he quickly recovered himself; he had heard badly; he had not understood.

“Low—er the rents!” stammered he. “Monsieur le Vicomte deigns to jest. Lower! Monsieur, of course means to raise the rents.”

(20) “I was never more serious in my life, my friend,” the vicomte returned; “I said, and repeat, lower the rents.”

This time the concièrge was surprised to the point of bewilderment—so thrown off his balance that he forgot himself and lost all restraint.

“Monsieur has not reflected,” persisted he. “Monsieur will regret this evening. Lower (25) the tenants’ rents! Never was such a thing known, monsieur! If the lodgers should learn of it, what would they think of monsieur? What would people say in the neighborhood? Truly—” …

Staggering like a drunken man, Monsieur Bernard went out from the house of his proprietor. …

(30) Next morning, Bernard, buttoning himself into his best frock coat, made the rounds of the three-and-twenty apartments to announce his great news.

Ten minutes afterward the house in the Rue de la Victoire was in a state of commotion impossible to describe. People who, for forty years had lived on the same floor, and never honored each other with so much as a tip of the hat, now clustered together and chatted (35) eagerly.

“Do you know, monsieur?” “It is very extraordinary.” “Simply unheard of!” “The proprietor’s lowered my rent!” (40) “One-third, is it not? Mine also.” “Astounding! It must be a mistake!” … Three of them actually wrote to the proprietor to tell him what had passed, and to charitably warn him that his concièrge had wholly lost his mind. The proprietor responded to these skeptics, confirming what Bernard had said.

(45) Then began reflections and commentaries. “Why had the proprietor lowered his rents?” “Yes, why?” “What motives,” said they all, “actuate this strange man? For certainly he must have grave reasons for a step like this! An intelligent man, a man of good sense, would never (50) deprive himself of good fat revenues, well secured, for the simple pleasure of depriving himself. One would not conduct himself thus without being forced, constrained (4) by powerful circumstances.”

And each said to himself: “There is something under all this!” (55) “But what?” And from the first floor to the sixth they sought and conjectured (5) and delved in their brains. Every lodger had the preoccupied air of a man who strives with all his wits to solve an impossible cipher, (6) and everywhere there began to be a vague disquiet, as it happens when one finds himself in the presence of a sinister mystery.

(60) Some one went so far as to hazard: “This man must have committed a great and still hidden crime; remorse pushes him to philanthropy.” (7) It was not a pleasant idea, either, the thought of living thus side by side with a rascal; no, by no means; he might be repentant, and all that, but suppose he yielded to temptation (65) once more!

“The house, perhaps, was badly built?” questioned another, anxiously.

Hum-m, so-so! no one could tell; but all knew one thing—it was very old!

“True! and it had been necessary to prop it when they dug the drain last year in the month of March.”

(70) “Maybe it was the roof, then, and the house is top-heavy?” suggested a tenant on the fifth floor.

“Or perhaps,” said a lodger in the garret, (8) “there is a press for coining counterfeit money in the cellar; I have often heard at night a sound like the dull, muffled thud of a coin-stamper.” …

(75) Then began to happen, as they all declared, extraordinary and even frightful things. On the sixth and mansard floors (9) it appeared that strange and absolutely inexplicable noises were heard. Then the nurse of the old lady on the fourth story, going one night to steal wine from the cellar, encountered the ghost of the defunct proprietor—he even held in his hand a receipt for rent.

(80) And the refrain from aloft to cellar was:

“There is something under all this!”

From disquietude (10) it had come to fright; from fright it quickly passed to terror. So that the gentleman of the first floor, who had valuables in his rooms, made up his mind to go, and sent in notice by his clerk. …

(85) From that moment it was a general rout. (11) By the end of the week, everybody had given notice. Every one awaited some frightful catastrophe. They slept no more. They organized patrols. The terrified domestics swore that they too would quit the accursed house and remained temporarily only on tripled wages.

Bernard was no more than the ghost of himself; the fever of fear had worn him to a (90) shadow. …

Meanwhile three-and-twenty “For Rent” placards swung against the façade of the house, drawing an occasional applicant for lodgings.

Bernard—never grumbling now—climbed the staircase and ushered the visitor from apartment to apartment.

(95) “You can have your choice,” said he “the house is entirely vacant; all the tenants have given notice as one man. They do not know why, exactly, but things have happened, oh! yes, things! a mystery such as was never before known—the proprietor has lowered his rents!”

And the would-be lodgers fled away affrighted.

The term ended, three-and-twenty vans carried away the furniture of the three-and-twenty (100) tenants. Everybody left. From foundations to garret, the house lay empty of lodgers. …

And now on the Rue de la Victoire stands the abandoned house, “The Accursed House,” whose history I have told you. Dust thickens upon the closed slats, grass grows in the court. No tenant ever presents himself now; and in the quarter, where stands this Accursed House, so funereal is its reputation that even the neighboring houses on either side of it (105) have also depreciated in value.

Lower one’s rents!! Who would think of such a thing!!!

—Emile Gaboriau excerpted from “The Accursed House” Famous Stories, June 1937 Review of Reviews Corporation

1: Vicomte- a French title of nobility 2: usury- robbery 3: concierge- superintendent 4: constrained- controlled 5: conjectured- guessed 6: cipher- code 7: philanthropy- helping others 8: garret- attic 9: mansard floors- top story 10: disquietude- uneasiness 11: rout- retreat