S e c o n d e d I t I o n 1 Reading for the Real World 1

veins
, and a 
clammy
moisture gathered upon her face. She stayed motionless, with her 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. “Armand,” she called to him. But he did not notice. 
“Armand,” she said again. Then she rose and 
tottered
toward him. “Armand,” she panted once more, clutching his 
arm, “look at our child. What does it mean? Tell me.”
“It means,” he answered lightly, “that the child is not 
white; it means that you are not white.”
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. For God’s sake, tell them it is not 
true. I will 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.
He said nothing. “Shall I go, Armand?” she asked in tones sharp with 
agonized suspense.
2
La Blanche --- the name of the head slave
2
quadroon --- a person with one-quarter black ancestry
5
vein --- a vessel that carries blood toward the heart
5
clammy --- damp, sticky, and cool
11
totter --- to walk unsteadily
Track 27

---

85
30
35
40
45
50
55
“Yes, go.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“Yes, I want you to go.”
She turned away like one stunned by a blow and walked slowly toward the 
door, hoping he would call her back.
“Good-bye, Armand,” she moaned.
He did not answer her.
Desiree went in search of her child. Zandrine was pacing the 
gallery
with 
it. She took the little one from the nurse’s arms and, descending the steps, 
walked away.
Desiree had not changed the thin white dress nor the slippers which she 
wore. She did not take the broad road which led to the far-off 
plantation
of 
Valmonde. She walked across a deserted field, where the stubble bruised her 
tender feet and tore her thin gown to shreds. She disappeared among the reeds 
and willows that grew thick along the banks; and she did not come back again.
Some weeks later there was a curious scene enacted at 
L’Abri
. In the center 
of the backyard 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.
The last thing to go was a tiny bundle of 
letters 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, “
I thank the good God for having so arranged 
our lives that our dear Armand will never know that his mother belongs to the 
race that is cursed with the