Desiree's Baby
MAKE TEN CONNECTIONS TO EXCERPT USING COMMENT BOXES. ©
ASK FIVE QUESTIONS OF THE EXCERPT. (?)
HIGHLIGHT THREE QUOTES THAT
REVEAL CHARACTERIZATION and discuss what these quotes reveal. J
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."
Name ______________________
DesireeÕs Baby Questions
|
|
|
|
|
1.1 What is the meaning of the following words in the
context in which they appear: a)
Riveted (top page 1) b)
Suffused (bottom page 2) c)
Plantation (middle page 1) d)
Beneficient (middle page 1) e) Bayou
(bottom page 5) f)
Peignoir (bottom page 3) g)
Quadroon (bottom page 3) 1.2 What is the meaning of the phrase "He was
reminded that she was nameless." in the context in which it appears?
(bottom page 1) 1.3 The answers to the following questions can be found
in the text: a) Where
had Madame Valmonde found Desiree for the first time when she was a baby? b) Why
had Armand's mother never left France? c) What
was Madame Valmonds's reply to Desiree's letter? d)
During which month were they picking cotton at L'Abri? e) What
did Armand have put on the bonfire? 1.4 In your own words: a)
Describe Desiree. a)
Describe how Desiree and Armand met and fell in love. |
|
|
|
|
|
2.1 Describe and explain the changes in Armand Aubigny's
behaviour as the story unfolds. 2.2 Why do you think there was an "air of mystery
among the blacks" (middle page 3) and frequent 2.3 Why was it assumed that Desiree was the reason her
child was not white? 2.4 Why do you think Armand did not consider Desiree's
origins before marrying her? 2.5 Before the last few lines of this story, are there
any clues given by the author which hint at the true cause of the baby's
appearance? 2.6 Why do you think "La Blanche" (bottom page
2) had that name? |
|
|
|
|
|
3.1 Continue the story, describing what became of
Armand, Desiree and their baby. 3.2 Do you think Armand burnt the last letter together
with the rest? 3.3 Would Armand's treatment of his wife be condoned by
society today? Give reasons for your answer. 3.4 Do you believe there are circumstances in which
Armand would behave in the same way today? 3.5 Write a contemporary version of Desiree's Baby but
set your story in a different part of the world. 3.6 Why did Desiree ask her husband if he wanted her to
go and then act on his decision? Do you think this merely
reflected her character, or society at the time of the story? 3.7 Why was French the language spoken in Valmonde? 3.8 Discuss Desiree's, Armand's or Madame Valmonde's
knowledge of the situation through the story and how it affects their
actions or lack of action. You may like to consider the following: - When Armand reads the
letter at the end, is this new knowledge? How can you explain his changing attitudes towards Desiree
and the slaves? - What does Madame
Valmonde realise about the child's origins? Why would she not take action
early on? - Is it likely that
Desiree had realised that her child was of mixed race before seeing the
quadroon boy fanning the baby? 3.9 Discuss the relationship between Armand's mother and
father. 3.10 Discuss why a person's race has been such a divisive
issue. |