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Desiree's Baby

As the day was pleasant, Madame Valmonde drove over to L'Abri to see Desiree and the baby.

It made her laugh to think of Desiree with a baby. Why, it seemed but yesterday that Desiree was little more than a baby herself; when Monsieur in riding through the gateway of Valmonde had found her lying asleep in the shadow of the big stone pillar.

The little one awoke in his arms and began to cry for "Dada." That was as much as she could do or say. Some people thought she might have strayed there of her own accord, for she was of the toddling age. The prevailing belief was that she had been purposely left by a party of Texans, whose canvas-covered wagon, late in the day, had crossed the ferry that Coton Mais kept, just below the plantation. In time Madame Valmonde abandoned every speculation but the one that Desiree had been sent to her by a beneficent Providence to be the child of her affection, seeing that she was without child of the flesh. For the girl grew to be beautiful and gentle, affectionate and sincere - the idol of Valmonde.

It was no wonder, when she stood one day against the stone pillar in whose shadow she had lain asleep, eighteen years before, that Armand Aubigny riding by and seeing her there, had fallen in love with her. That was the way all the Aubignys fell in love, as if struck by a pistol shot. The wonder was that he had not loved her before; for he had known her since his father brought him home from Paris, a boy of eight, after his mother died there. The passion that awoke in him that day, when he saw her at the gate, swept along like an avalanche, or like a prairie fire, or like anything that drives headlong over all obstacles.

Monsieur Valmonde grew practical and wanted things well considered: that is, the girl's obscure origin. Armand looked into her eyes and did not care. He was reminded that she was nameless. What did it matter about a name when he could give her one of the oldest and proudest in Louisiana? He ordered the corbeille from Paris, and contained himself with what patience he could until it arrived; then they were married.

Madame Valmonde had not seen Desiree and the baby for four weeks. When she reached L'Abri she shuddered at the first sight of it, as she always did. It was a sad looking place, which for many years had not known the gentle presence of a mistress, old Monsieur Aubigny having married and buried his wife in France, and she having loved her own land too well ever to leave it. The roof came down steep and black like a cowl, reaching out beyond the wide galleries that encircled the yellow stuccoed house. Big, solemn oaks grew close to it, and their thick-leaved, far-reaching branches shadowed it like a pall. Young Aubigny's rule was a strict one, too, and under it his negroes had forgotten how to be gay, as they had been during the old master's easy-going and indulgent lifetime.

The young mother was recovering slowly, and lay full length, in her soft white muslins and laces, upon a couch. The baby was beside her, upon her arm, where he had fallen asleep, at her breast. The yellow nurse woman sat beside a window fanning herself.

Madame Valmonde bent her portly figure over Desiree and kissed her, holding her an instant tenderly in her arms. Then she turned to the child.

"This is not the baby!" she exclaimed, in startled tones. French was the language spoken at Valmonde in those days.

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"I knew you would be astonished," laughed Desiree, "at the way he has grown. The little cochon de lait! Look at his legs, mamma, and his hands and fingernails - real finger-nails. Zandrine had to cut them this morning. Isn't it true, Zandrine?"

The woman bowed her turbaned head majestically, "Mais si, Madame."

"And the way he cries," went on Desiree, "is deafening. Armand heard him the other day as far away as La Blanche's cabin."

Madame Valmonde had never removed her eyes from the child. She lifted it and walked with it over to the window that was lightest. She scanned the baby narrowly, then looked as searchingly at Zandrine, whose face was turned to gaze across the fields.

"Yes, the child has grown, has changed," said Madame Valmonde, slowly, as she replaced it beside its mother. "What does Armand say?"

Desiree's face became suffused with a glow that was happiness itself.

"Oh, Armand is the proudest father in the parish, I believe, chiefly because it is a boy, to bear his name; though he says not - that he would have loved a girl as well. But I know it isn't true. I know he says that to please me. And mamma," she added, drawing Madame Valmonde's head down to her, and speaking in a whisper, "he hasn't punished one of them - not one of them - since baby is born. Even Negrillon, who pretended to have burnt his leg that he might rest from work - he only laughed, and said Negrillon was a great scamp. Oh, mamma, I'm so happy; it frightens me."

What Desiree said was true. Marriage, and later the birth of his son had softened Armand Aubigny's imperious and exacting nature greatly. This was what made the gentle Desiree so happy, for she loved him desperately. When he frowned she trembled, but loved him. When he smiled, she asked no greater blessing of God. But Armand's dark, handsome face had not often been disfigured by frowns since the day he fell in love with her.

When the baby was about three months old, Desiree awoke one day to the conviction that there was something in the air menacing her peace. It was at first too subtle to grasp. It had only been a disquieting suggestion; an air of mystery among the blacks; unexpected visits from far-off neighbors who could hardly account for their coming. Then a strange, an awful change in her husband's manner, which she dared not ask him to explain. When he spoke to her, it was with averted eyes, from which the old love-light seemed to have gone out. He absented himself from home; and when there, avoided her presence and that of her child, without excuse. And the very spirit of Satan seemed suddenly to take hold of him in his dealings with the slaves. Desiree was miserable enough to die.

She sat in her room, one hot afternoon, in her peignoir, listlessly drawing through her fingers the strands of her long, silky brown hair that hung about her shoulders. The baby, half naked, lay asleep upon her own great mahogany bed, that was like a sumptuous throne, with its satin-lined half-canopy. One of La Blanche's little quadroon boys - half naked too - stood fanning the child slowly with a fan of peacock feathers. Desiree's eyes had been fixed absently and sadly upon the baby, while she was striving to penetrate the threatening mist that she felt closing about her. She looked from her child to the boy who stood beside him, and back again; over and over. "Ah!" It was a cry that she could not help; which she was not conscious of having uttered. The blood turned like ice in her veins, and a clammy moisture gathered upon her face.

She tried to speak to the little quadroon boy; but no sound would come, at first. When he heard his name uttered, he looked up, and his mistress was pointing to the door. He laid aside the great, soft fan, and obediently stole away, over the polished floor, on his bare tiptoes.

She stayed motionless, with gaze riveted upon her child, and her face the picture of fright.

Presently her husband entered the room, and without noticing her, went to a table and began to search among some papers which covered it.

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"Armand," she called to him, in a voice which must have stabbed him, if he was human. But he did not notice. "Armand," she said again. Then she rose and tottered towards him. "Armand," she panted once more, clutching his arm, "look at our child. What does it mean? Tell me."

He coldly but gently loosened her fingers from about his arm and thrust the hand away from him. "Tell me what it means!" she cried despairingly.

"It means," he answered lightly, "that the child is not white; it means that you are not white."

A quick conception of all that this accusation meant for her nerved her with unwonted courage to deny it. "It is a lie; it is not true, I am white! Look at my hair, it is brown; and my eyes are gray, Armand, you know they are gray. And my skin is fair," seizing his wrist. "Look at my hand; whiter than yours, Armand," she laughed hysterically.

"As white as La Blanche's," he returned cruelly; and went away leaving her alone with their child.

When she could hold a pen in her hand, she sent a despairing letter to Madame Valmonde.

"My mother, they tell me I am not white. Armand has told me I am not white. For God's sake tell them it is not true. You must know it is not true. I shall die. I must die. I cannot be so unhappy, and live."

The answer that came was brief:

"My own Desiree: Come home to Valmonde; back to your mother who loves you. Come with your child."

When the letter reached Desiree she went with it to her husband's study, and laid it open upon the desk before which he sat. She was like a stone image: silent, white, motionless after she placed it there.

In silence he ran his cold eyes over the written words.

He said nothing. "Shall I go, Armand?" she asked in tones sharp with agonized suspense.

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"Yes, go."

"Do you want me to go?"

"Yes, I want you to go."

He thought Almighty God had dealt cruelly and unjustly with him; and felt, somehow, that he was paying Him back in kind when he stabbed thus into his wife's soul. Moreover he no longer loved her, because of the unconscious injury she had brought upon his home and his name.

She turned away like one stunned by a blow, and walked slowly towards the door, hoping he would call her back.

"Good-by, Armand," she moaned.

He did not answer her. That was his last blow at fate.

Desiree went in search of her child. Zandrine was pacing the sombre gallery with it. She took the little one from the nurse's arms with no word of explanation, and descending the steps, walked away, under the live-oak branches.

It was an October afternoon; the sun was just sinking. Out in the still fields the negroes were picking cotton.

Desiree had not changed the thin white garment nor the slippers which she wore. Her hair was uncovered and the sun's rays brought a golden gleam from its brown meshes. She did not take the broad, beaten road which led to the far-off plantation of Valmonde. She walked across a deserted field, where the stubble bruised her tender feet, so delicately shod, and tore her thin gown to shreds.

She disappeared among the reeds and willows that grew thick along the banks of the deep, sluggish bayou; and she did not come back again.

Some weeks later there was a curious scene enacted at L'Abri. In the centre of the smoothly swept back yard was a great bonfire. Armand Aubigny sat in the wide hallway that commanded a view of the spectacle; and it was he who dealt out to a half dozen negroes the material which kept this fire ablaze.

A graceful cradle of willow, with all its dainty furbishings, was laid upon the pyre, which had already been fed with the richness of a priceless layette. Then there were silk gowns, and velvet and satin ones added to these; laces, too, and embroideries; bonnets and gloves; for the corbeille had been of rare quality.

The last thing to go was a tiny bundle of letters; innocent little scribblings that Desiree had sent to him during the days of their espousal. There was the remnant of one back in the drawer from which he took them. But it was not Desiree's; it was part of an old letter from his mother to his father. He read it. She was thanking God for the blessing of her husband's love:--

"But above all," she wrote, "night and day, I thank the good God for having so arranged our lives that our dear Armand will never know that his mother, who adores him, belongs to the race that is cursed with the brand of slavery."

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Average: 4.3 (3 votes)

Comments

Submitted by admin on Thu, 02/02/2006 - 00:16

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I find this short story astonishing. I must admit that I figured out that the child must have been black from the plot of the story and the details given in the beginning. The mere topic leads one to speculate on that thought. What really amazes me is the fact that he, who is mixed despises those who he is actually related to-the slaves. Who are we to know that he didnt always know and brought out this thrilling truth out on his slaves. Just as Hitler who had a trail of Jew in his blood persecuted them. He may have done so at such a harsh degree to not make his origin and race a question, especially to his wife who saw that he was reall harsh to black people and even even moreso to her know that she could be black. I think this is all an act to hide the truth, the truth that he could have possible known. Even though Ive read this story only once I still havent caught on to the fact that she killed herself and the child. I guess I should read it again.......

Submitted by admin on Wed, 03/29/2006 - 12:15

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um i read the story, but i thought she HAD went home. i didnt read that she killed herself. anyway it WAS AN ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT PIECE OF WORK, then and even now. i def. think someone should make do a movie out of this. but probably not, because they might take away from the stories brilliance and true essence.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 03/30/2006 - 21:12

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Great a short story. Thanks for Chopin.I got an idea for my final project from Desirees Baby. I know that the story try to tell about racial discrimination which makes social conflict in society at that time.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 04/06/2006 - 09:57

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i really liked the stories and even i didnt figure that she killed herself and the baby. i dont think armand knew of his origins i thought he really loved desiree but his love was not a match for his hatred.

Submitted by admin on Fri, 05/12/2006 - 18:57

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I LOVED this one! Who knows if the child was not black because of Armands mother? Sometimes those traits skip several generations. Prejudice is a powerful thing with the potential to destroy...

Submitted by admin on Wed, 06/07/2006 - 23:08

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im not sure about a one thing, though. Its not really clear if she killed herlself or not. Is it up for self interpretation???? I believe that she did kill herself. However, it is not directly stated. Btw, can anyone help em with the general theme of this story? Racism is too obvious and too general. Maybe how race affects a love relationship???

Submitted by admin on Tue, 09/05/2006 - 03:41

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Armand knew about Desirees "obscure origin". He should have realized that there was a possiblity that she was not white. But all he cared about was only the physical beauty that he saw. She probably was white and the baby came out colored just because of him. But his parents should have told him about his race. That way he could have grown up respecting blacks just like his father. I guess his actions were also the result of bad parenting. Its all about the name. Armand loved his name more than his own wife and child.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 09/07/2006 - 18:31

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Armand is a very sad man. All in all this is a great and wonderfully written, but I have to admit that I had to read the first couple of paragraphs twice in order to get what was going on. It kind of confused me, but in the end I got the point.

Submitted by admin on Mon, 10/02/2006 - 11:51

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This was a great piece of work that required an intelligent thought to create this! The story states that desiree did not go back to her mother, hell, I wouldnt either, I would have so much resentment towards her. The story also didnt state that she killed herself and her child, that was left up to the reader, but I personally did not think she killed the both of them. Whats so great about the ending is that Chopin left it up to the reader to create your own ending. If you think about it, yes it was obvious that Armand had black ancestry in his genes, but maybe Desiree was from the same orgin also. That was up to the reader. This is a awesome story with a great ending!

Submitted by admin on Mon, 03/05/2007 - 01:01

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ye i must say that the ending is a goodun, weldone. i mean i aint gon lie i really dont think that this story is at all interesting. but there is so much symbolism and attitudes and value that are expressed through cleverly contrusted use of lexis and syntax nd for that i applaud you. there is some real depth to racim, relationships between men and women, slavery, stauts, society.etc

peace"

Submitted by admin on Mon, 04/16/2007 - 10:05

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wow isnt that inersting how her baby is black and she is white

i think its messed up tho that she says But above all," she wrote, "night and day, I thank the good God for having so arranged our lives that our dear Armand will never know that his mother, who adores him, belongs to the race that is cursed with the brand of slavery."

he should be proud he is black i dunno hwy people alwaysz talk about dem like they is hell

thats messed up

dont no body call mii a black gurl now cuz im dominican, a hispanic/latina and luvin it!

Submitted by admin on Wed, 04/18/2007 - 15:37

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thatz so messed up iwould never leave my baby id get ajob n still go 2 school 2 take care of my baby i dont have 1 buti would take care of it n not leave in the middle of tha road. april 18,2007 gotta bounce here lil blue

Submitted by admin on Sat, 09/22/2007 - 15:16

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I very like this short story. I didnt think it will end like that. I spoze the theme is about racism, but can it be love too? Real lovell stay even if the origin isnt like we thought..May be Armand was too proud of his own family name. But he didnt know is origin as well as he thought. Good story!

Submitted by admin on Fri, 11/09/2007 - 13:50

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I am having to do a 10 page research paper over this story and I love it. Its not boring you just have to appreciate the literature. Kate Chopin is one of the best writers that was out there in her time. You have to understand whats going on in the story to fully get the meaning behind it. They arent talking bad about African Americans, but in those times, there was slavery. You cant just judge someone but their skin color, you never know where your ancestry leads you.

Submitted by admin on Mon, 11/12/2007 - 19:19

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I thought this story was realllllyyyy interesting, and its not often that you find stories that are so honest about racism in that time period. Both of my great-grandmothers were products of slavery, and because of that were "outcasts" in the black and white community. I only wish I could write some of their stories.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 11/28/2007 - 03:29

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Im a composer living in Atlanta. I ran across this wonderful story and knew that I must set it to music.

Kate Chopins writing style is a perfect jewl of concission. She says everything that needs to be said, only once, and with the best words for her intent, and all then arranged in the most effective and compact order. Brilliantly composed.

Many of you seem to have some confusion about certain elements of the tale. Yes, Desiree goes off with her child to drown in the bayou, dazed by her husbands rejection. This does not mean that she makes stupid choices, or that she is not a strong woman. She is a product of her times. But what is happening here is that Kate Chopin is making a statement about lost love. She and Armand were drawn as completely happy together. She loves him despirately. If youve ever felt such love before, and had it pulled away from you for nothing youve done wrong, youd know that she was still very in love, and completely crushed. Moreover, she now had the accusations against her which she could not prove wrong (and which held tremendous implications in her day), and her babys future was also doomed by his own race. A misery awaited them both should they have continued to live on.

Armand does find the letter in the back of a drawer. But it is not known to him. He inherrited the plantation from his father remember, and this remnant of a letter was never discovered by him until he was clearing away from his life all that was Desiree.

Themes? Someone had it right when they used the word "folly". And someone else had it right when they said race, prejudice and rejection. This story is not depicting blacks as lowly at all! Quite the opposite. They are real and alive; and Armands mother is portrayed in an unquestionably sympathetic light. And before we learn about Armands heritage, and still believe that Desiree is the one with black parantage, we feel very strongly for her, regardless of her race (as Armand should). Armands dicovery at the end is not some kind of punnishment he must suffer as the storys villain. Hes not really a villain, but another (although unlikeable) product of his times. Hes a trajic figure as is Desiree, used by Chopin to point out the foolishness of allowing prejudicial conceptions foisted upon us by society to override what she depicts as "true", that being the love that was real between them before. He loved her so much that he just had to marry her, no matter what. His ultimate realization leaves us with serious questions about how he can then continue his life: feeling as he does about blackness, and knowing that he is one, and as master to his slaves. Nothing could possibly be the same for him, and he might likely committ suicide as well.

Chopins themes are saying that this sort of blindness to ones true heart is a real shame. There is a heavy statement of humanity and brotherhood as an ideal state, and that the lack of it in the world leads to so much needless (and silly) suffering and trajedy. What the story says is that "we are all the same; we are people, each who love and want to be loved -- and who should love eachother.

Perhaps some of you will one day run across my music inspired by the story. It will be a cantata, called Desiree, and will be kind of like a short musical with a gospel choir in the background to support setting and period.

I hope that each of you who read this story come away asking questions about yourselves, and hopeful for a more embracing world. We have come a long way.

MalcolmCaluori.com

Submitted by admin on Thu, 02/28/2008 - 01:34

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I had a hard time to understand it for myself. I am also doing a report on this story , and what makes it wores is that i need to compare the character "Desiree" with the character from the House of Mirth "Lilly Barton", however it has to be the way they dressed within the ear of the book.

Submitted by admin on Sat, 03/15/2008 - 18:13

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Ok, I get the theme of the story, but what theory can you analyze this short story on? I think Marxixts and historical theory can be used to analyze this paper, but I am still needing a little help!

Submitted by admin on Fri, 04/11/2008 - 15:01

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It was a great story im doing an essay on kate chopin and the story desirees baby i was sitting in the library thinking of who was i going to write about my teacher mrs comte came and ssaid a good story for you would be "desirees baby" she start telling me about the story and ever since then iv been very intreseted in this story yeah it might be confusing to others because try to get in the book but after all its really great i love this story!!! from ya girl ashley from that woodville texas

Submitted by admin on Tue, 05/06/2008 - 06:26

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Please! Its amazing how many people misunderstood everything about the story. Pay attention when you read. Let all details factor into your comprehension.
1) The letter was a shock and surprise to Armand. It was the house in which his parents lived their lives: it was old, as was the furniture. Armand probably took the "best" room in the house (his fathers). The letter was jammed in back of the drawer, so old that only a portion of the letter remained. It was a horrible revelation to him. Most readers likely consider it "poetic justice.
2) The color of Armonds mothers skin was not black. She probably was a quadroon (1/4 African). A lot of quadroons "passed" for white, so little was the difference. She likely lived her life as a white woman. Armand would have been a mulatto (1/8 African), even lighter than his mother, with even more subtle African features. No, Armand never suspected that he was not completely a white man!
3) The baby had features from his distant ancestors, but his skin was not black. He looked white, but began to take on stronger African features, which is how Armand and the servants made the discovery. Even Desirees mother saw tthe change in him after a 4-week absence. The suggestion of African blood in Desiree is superflous. The story ended with Armonds discovery.
Thanks for listening.

Submitted by admin on Fri, 07/11/2008 - 12:41

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I am teaching this to some students as a story of power. Power in this society is derived from "nature," from the then-current ideas of purity of blood. Power exists to keep society going and to safeguard the family. Desiree is doubly powerless as a woman and as an outsider in the community. Her only position comes from the ability to bear children and continue nature and society. The child is therefore seen as a threat to society, and Desirees "infidelity" as not only immoral, but as endangering the whole community. But this "natural" society only exists because of hiding certain facts. There is no White or Black blood. Armand only has power because of the societys secrets, and his own.

Submitted by admin on Sun, 09/21/2008 - 08:49

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I loved the story,I do believe she kiled herself and the child, but i do not find that to be selfish. I think she realized being "mixed" would never be accepted and her child would live in a cruel world. I respect the fact that she died with her child instead of just getting rid of the evidence! I understand armand he was raised ignorant as shown in the story by the way he treated his slaves, although I felt so angry with him for his treatment of a woman he supposedly loved!!

Submitted by admin on Fri, 09/26/2008 - 10:55

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This story reveals so many things that arent known to many black people out there. Me being a black person, is not ashamed or hearing how it was in the old days because if there was none of that, we would not be as we are now. we have to just appreciate where we come from. Wonderful story, but i think the girl should have just went to her mother and stayed there as her mother said.

Submitted by admin on Mon, 11/24/2008 - 12:19

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Definitly a great story, shows how trying it was at that time being black. Its hard to imagine killing your child and yourself for what they are, i like to belive that desiree didnt kill herself rather she learned to accept the baby and maybe accept herself even thought she wasnt black. one thing that seems hard to connect is how love affects desirees ultimate decision, which is what im trying to write an essay about rite now.

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