
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.
"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.
"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.
"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."
Comments
I really think I should read this short story over again,..
I really think I should read this short story over again, cause i cant see whats so amazing and incredible with this, in addition I have to write a presentation about it, damn.
o my gosh i loved this story! i really wish i knew exactly..
o my gosh i loved this story! i really wish i knew exactly what happened to Desiree and her baby after she left. I also would like to know what went threw Armoands mind when he found that letter. wow such an amazing story!
Is is a great story I really Like it :)
Is is a great story I really Like it :)
LOVE THE STORY LOVE THE GREAT SYMBOLISM!!! THE STONE..
LOVE THE STORY
LOVE THE GREAT SYMBOLISM!!!
THE STONE PILLAR WITH THE SHADOW= A TOMB STONE WHICH MEANS DEATH
AWESOME STORY!!!!
ASHLEY TOVIAS
I was surprised to read how the story ended. I have seen..
I was surprised to read how the story ended. I have seen prejudice just as we all have but had never really thought about it from this aspect.
hello, i really like this story because it is written by a..
hello, i really like this story because it is written by a woman.
Hey that story was AWESOME!! really hits home about racism..
Hey that story was AWESOME!! really hits home about racism and discriminations about women
this story takes place in slavery time. desiree was an..
this story takes place in slavery time. desiree was an orphan child and nobody knew exactly what she was. after she got married and had a baby with armand, she saw that there was a resmblance between the baby and the black slaveboy that was fanning it, and she asked armand what that meant. when he said that it meant that the baby wasnt white, that meant that one of them had to be black. and he told her that she was black. and she wouldnt have know because she was an orphan. but we come to find out that armand was the one who is actually the black one from the letter between his mother and father. his mother was black.
Can someone please comment a short summary about this..
Can someone please comment a short summary about this story. Ive read it over and over, and cant seem to fully understand it. --Why did he turn on Desiree? --What does it mean when he says, "the child is not white; it means that you are not white" ?? These things are not making sense to me. ?
I read this story for Engligh/Lit class and found the irony..
I read this story for Engligh/Lit class and found the irony to be funny. Arman was so worried that his wife was black and you could see black in his child. He married her not knowing anything about her. Racism and hatered have existed for many decades and will continue to exist until we wake up and love everyone.
this short storey is a very good story to me it has a lot..
this short storey is a very good story to me it has a lot of meningg
I love this short story. its sad how he put her through..
I love this short story. its sad how he put her through that much misery because of what he thought she was . he was supposely in so in love with her but fell out because of what of nothin. and now hes all alone because of his ignorance.
Retta Daniels
I was told to look at this peice for my speech team as a..
I was told to look at this peice for my speech team as a prose piece. However, this really hits home. Being a biracial (black w/ white) child growing up in southern kentucky had its own issues. I cant imagine doing it in those times
I loved the story butit leaves you hanging. Did desire die..
I loved the story butit leaves you hanging. Did desire die with her baby? and why didnt his father ever tell him?
I think its kinda like karma for him to be black to by how..
I think its kinda like karma for him to be black to by how he treated his wife.
omg i love this story. i actually cried over it.thanks to..
omg i love this story. i actually cried over it.thanks to Kate that made me cry ever since i was 2. i love you kate
Will someone please comment on the "setting" of the story?..
Will someone please comment on the "setting" of the story? Thank you. Itd be really appreciated and useful to me.
this story is awesome when i got really into it and..
this story is awesome when i got really
into it and actually read it several times
This is one hell of a short!! Louisiana was once the wild..
This is one hell of a short!! Louisiana was once the wild west of America and the influences of the French, the Spainards, and the African slave made it a unique place. The American blacks are a mixed people(mostly British, Spanish, French, and Asian). The flip side of the coin is that there are millions of "whites" in this country who are the direct decendents of the slave who, like Armand, have no idea, or it is a closely held family secret. This should be required reading!!
Brilliantly written. 1. In my opinion, Armand was aware..
Brilliantly written.
1. In my opinion, Armand was aware of his african heritage and had held on to the portion of the letter, which he was in the processing of retrieving from a drawer in her room, that was evidence of his ancestry. As a result of his anger for being black, he mistreated his slaves. Further, his mother, a black woman, was from France. Wasnt the french known for their "friendliness" towards blacks? Also, although Armand was aware of Desirees obscure origins he still married her. Maybe he was hoping that fingers would easily be pointed at her if their offspring showed black traits. However, its quite possible that she could be black (quadroon). Armand was a mulatto.
2. Desiree did not return to her mothers house with her baby. In her letter to her mom, Desiree stated that she couldnt be unhappy and live. She went to the bayou..."and she did not come back again."
This is crazy. at first i was like, well, they did find..
This is crazy. at first i was like, well, they did find her, maybe she aint white. but when i found out it was him, oh my. thats crazy
Did I miss it or did it say when the story was written?
Did I miss it or did it say when the story was written?
I love this story. for those who were a bit lost. Desiree..
I love this story. for those who were a bit lost. Desiree was not of African descent even though she did not know of her back ground (without a name). Aubignys was also unaware that he was in fact, the one who was of African descent due to his extremly fair skin and a secret kept from him to help preserve the good name of the family. what really gets me about this story is...upon studing this story in my college years we drew the conclusion that Desiree went off and killed herself and her child because of the sense of pride she couldnt bare to lose in baring the fact of being African origan. The irony of this story is none the less saddening because Aubignys love for Desiree could be so easily erased due to a small factor that weighed so heavily during that time. (Theresa Tyler)
this was a great story, a bit confusing at the end as it..
this was a great story, a bit confusing at
the end as it leaves you pondering. But it
made an excellent read :)
i like it is so intersting i love it but the questions are..
i like it is so intersting i love it but the questions are realy hard
how did armand change from the begining to the end of the..
how did armand change from the begining to the end of the story?
I TRUELY LOVE THIS STORY!.
I TRUELY LOVE THIS STORY!.
good story!!!! :0
good story!!!! :0
your right. love does not involve color. I know this..
your right. love does not involve color. I know this because my boyfriend is african american and I am white and i wouldnt have it any other way. I love him!
what is the primary conflict in the story?
what is the primary conflict in the story?
I wonder what "the yellow nurse" line 2 means...
I wonder what "the yellow nurse" line 2 means...
that was a very good story!!! i enjoyed read it over and..
that was a very good story!!! i enjoyed read it over and over man what are some other good stories
well, being Cambodian I cannot catch the exact meaning of..
well, being Cambodian I cannot catch the exact meaning of this story at all cuz lots of difficult words. By the way, I have to write reflection of this story. I really cannot figure out about character analysis. Whom should I decide to choose for my interest. Damn!!! misunderstand it... Moreover, can anyone here tell me about what u have learnt from this story.ur answer is really aprriciated. Thx u :)
AWESOME STORY! EVERY CHARACTER IS IMPORTANT
AWESOME STORY! EVERY CHARACTER IS IMPORTANT
Kate Chopin was so ahead of her time. This story as well as..
Kate Chopin was so ahead of her time. This story as well as so many more of hers leaves permanent smiles in a womans brain...
Im so distraught with the fact that I completely read this..
Im so distraught with the fact that I completely read this story and enjoying it so much until i Saw the word "NEGROES" why do people think this is o.k to continue to use this word i dont care if its a story or whatever but enough already!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! why not make up a story about something else ....?Im so disappointed that my lecturer at U of S would even think of us reading this as a part of our reading.
I read this story the 1st time almost 15 years ago and I..
I read this story the 1st time almost 15 years ago and I still love every detail. I think the Kate Chopin was definitely a woman ahead of her time.
Great story!
Great story!
LOVE IT!
LOVE IT!
this story was rude! this paragraph right here "But above..
this story was rude! this paragraph right here "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."
was way otta line
Loved this story! So beautiful! made me tear up :( i dont..
Loved this story! So beautiful! made me tear up :( i dont like the racism though. why cant it be afro-americans, americans, and asians? Overall, lovely! one of the best short stories i have ever read!
this story makes me sick,,yes i know back then in the..
this story makes me sick,,yes i know back then in the 1850,s slavery of the black kin was normal, but now adays we are all equally the same..
This is one of the best short stories ever written!
This is one of the best short stories ever written!
First off, I loved reading this short story and that it..
First off, I loved reading this short story and that it does convey a seemingly well message.
Secondly, for those few people of low intellectual levels who comment saying "oh, i hated the use of negroes" or "it was way out of line at the end". You have to think back in 1892 (this is when the poem was written) where slavery was still happening. The short story was appropriate for its time and editting a magnificent work of art is tampering with its history and the authors style of writing.
i loved this short story, the plot twist at the end was..
i loved this short story, the plot twist at the end was PERFECT.
I love this short story. Perfect !
I love this short story. Perfect !
This is a great short story!
This is a great short story!
For the people above condemning this story, you need to..
For the people above condemning this story, you need to remember that Chopin is writing about a time period where this terminology and thought process was the norm. I am not saying this is right, but it was what it was. Obviously this story is a statement against this sort of thinking. If you believe otherwise, you may want to reread the story through the eyes of someone that would have lived during the time this story was set in, so that you can see how progressive this story really is even now.
Im reading the comments and some people just dont get that..
Im reading the comments and some people
just dont get that this was written
during a time when slavery was still a
thing and racial prejudice was everywhere.
If you understand the context, youll
understand why the use of the word
"negroes" was not condemned.
Anyway, I had to write a research paper on
"The Story of an Hour" and came across
this one. I think its excellent. (Why are
people commenting that its boring?)
i love this story....this story is one of the best stories..
i love this story....this story is one of
the best stories i have ever read.....i
read this book at my school in class. this
story i readable.i could read this story a
thousand times.....the ending is very
sad......i just wish they got back
together...lol
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