For this was Mardi Gras. What had gone before had been but preparation for the final festival. The atmosphere seemed surcharged with delighted anticipation.
For weeks the city had moved riotously toward this culmination. Since early daybreak the entire area had seethed with feverish activity. Mardi Gras Day!
Barbara flung back the covers and skipped out of bed. A quick shower, and she was glowingly ready for anything the day might bring forth. She refused to remember the confused sensations of the preceding night. That was past. Today was hers.
The door opened as she dressed, and Ethel stood on the threshold.
“Hello,” she called happily. “You’re up and about mighty early after the scene you put on last night.”
“Wasn’t it terrible?” Barbara laughed. “Were you horribly disgusted with me?”
“Not disgusted. Worried for a time. You picked a hell of a place to do your passing out,” Ethel told her severely. “Next time please make an attempt to stagger out of the man’s room before we have to call the medico to revive you.”
“Was Frank … angry?”
“No. Only disappointed,” Ethel said serenely.
“I’ll be ready in a moment,” Barbara said hastily. “Are we missing anything yet?”
“No. We’re not missing anything.” Ethel smiled tolerantly. “The real excitement doesn’t start till eleven o’clock when Rex’s day pageant begins. I’ve got a swell place picked to watch the parade. Come on. We’ll go down for breakfast if you’re ready.”
“All ready,” Barbara said hastily. She dabbed some powder on her nose and ran a comb through her hair. Then followed Ethel sedately down the stairs.
“Hello, Dad,” she heard Ethel greet her father. “You going to step out to give some frustrate lady a thrill to-day?”
“I’m going to stay close indoors,” Mr. Brinkley assured her. “You’ll not catch me risking my limbs in the mad capers of carnival.”
“So you say,” Ethel laughed. “I’ll bet a five-spot you’re out among ’em before sundown to-night.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Brinkley began indignantly. Then he caught sight of Barbara as she descended the stairs.
“Good morning,” he called to her. “Did your young man find you last night?”
“My young man?” she asked lightly. “Which of my young men? I didn’t know one was looking for me.”
“He sounded rather desperate over the telephone,” Mr. Brinkley said humorously. “He must be a very naïve young man to be calling up at eleven o’clock on Mardi Gras eve and expecting to find a young lady at home. He should have realized that was the last place in the world to look for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Ethel asked. “What young man wanted whom?”
“Someone who acted as though the end of the world had come when I told him Barbara wasn’t here,” Mr. Brinkley said. “Come on in to breakfast and we’ll talk about it,” he added. “Mardi Gras is the one day in the year that you’re up early enough to eat breakfast with me.”
“Didn’t he say who he was?” Barbara asked. “I can’t imagine who was calling me last night.”
“He mumbled some name,” Mr. Brinkley said disgustedly. “Robert something-or-other.… I couldn’t understand him very well.”
“Robert?” both the girls echoed in unison. They gazed at each other in dismay. Barbara’s eyes were distended.
“Do you suppose it could have been …?”
“Of course not,” Ethel said impatiently. “Probably one of Frank’s drunken friends.”
“But … but … if it was.…” Barbara faltered.
“Was his last name anything like Sutler?” Ethel demanded of her father.
“Now let me see.” He wrinkled his forehead thoughtfully. “It might have been Sutler,” he acknowledged. “Though I couldn’t say positively.”
“What did he say?” Barbara asked tensely. “Did he leave any message?”
“He left no message,” Mr. Brinkley assured her. “He merely asked for you … and gasped when I told him you were out and I had no idea when you would return.”
“Oh!” Barbara bit her lip fiercely and stared at Ethel. “I … I … Excuse me,” she stammered, jumping up from the table and hurrying from the room.
“What on earth?” Mr. Brinkley began stupidly.
“Why didn’t you tell her his name wasn’t Sutler?” Ethel asked angrily. “Her whole day will be spoiled now.”
“But … how was I to know?” Mr. Brinkley said helplessly. “Who is Robert Sutler, and why should a call from him spoil her day?”
“He’s a brawny nincompoop from the farm back home that she thinks she’s in love with,” Ethel told him swiftly. “If that hick has followed her here to spoil her vacation, I’ll … I’ll shoot him,” she said savagely. “Just when she was beginning to snap out of it too,” she muttered. “You’ll have to excuse me, Dad. I’ll go up to keep her from tearing out her hair.”
Mr. Brinkley stared after Ethel in bewilderment. He shook his head sadly and muttered something between his teeth.
Ethel found Barbara sitting in her room staring out the window.
“Don’t start moping.” Ethel crossed the room quickly and laid her hand on Barbara’s shoulder.
“But suppose it was Bob?” Barbara began tragically.
“You’ll do better to suppose it wasn’t,” Ethel told her practically. “He refused to come when you begged him to, didn’t he? What makes you think he’d change his mind?”
“But if he did? And I … Oh, Ethel! What shall I do?”
“Don’t turn on the waterworks,” Ethel said impatiently. “I thought you were through with that guy. Suppose he is here? Are you going to let him ruin your fun? Going to let him be a killjoy? He did his best to keep you from coming. Going to let him pull his dog-in-the manger stuff again?”
“Oh but … but you don’t understand.”
“The devil I don’t. I understand his type all right,” Ethel told her viciously. “It gripes his soul to see anybody have a good time. But I bet he wouldn’t turn down anything if he thought he could get away with it.”
“Oh no! Not Bob!” Barbara defended him quickly. “He’s too fine and good. That’s why … last night.…” She began to sob unhappily.
“Forget it.” Ethel shook her roughly. “Ten to one it wasn’t Bob. And suppose it was? You haven’t anything to be ashamed of. You’re still pure. You’ve still got your virginity, if that’s what you’re worrying about.…”
“It’s no credit to me that I’m not … not ruined,” Barbara sobbed. “I just the same as gave myself to Frank last night. I tried to … and wanted to. I just … happened to … to lose consciousness before it … it happened.”
“What of it? He doesn’t need to know that,” Ethel comforted her. “You’ve still got your cherished purity to hand over to him, if you persist in marrying the yokel. So dry those tears and let’s go out to make whoopee.”
“But what about Bob?” Barbara protested. “He may call up again.”
“If it was Bob and if he wanted to find you he would have left a message for you. I’ll tell mom to get his phone number if he calls again, and we can call here any time you get impatient to see if he’s called. You can’t sit around all Mardi Gras with just the thin suspicion that it’s Bob,” she ended angrily.
“All right.” Barbara dried her eyes and essayed a smile. “Dumb of me,” she conceded. “But I’m all right now.”
“Come on then.” Ethel arose quickly. “I’ll go tell mom to be sure and check on any telephone calls that come. You get your face fixed and come on. It’s time we were getting down to where we can see the parade. An hour from now we’ll not be able to move on the streets for the crush.”
Chapter Fifteen
Mr. Brinkley drove the two girls downtown. He had arranged to drop them on St. Charles Avenue near Lee Circle, and return for Mrs. Brinkley who would go with him to view the Rex pageant from their parked automobile.
> Ethel told Barbara that the reason her father and mother didn’t want to stay with them on St. Charles was because of the impossibility of driving a car through the streets for hours after the procession.
Barbara sat tensely in the automobile and was all eyes as Mr. Brinkley drove them downtown. The streets presented a thunderous spectacle which totally eclipsed the more subdued gayety of the preceding day.
Every house and every automobile was draped with flags, banners, and all manner of Carnival decorations. The hordes of people who pressed eagerly to obtain a point of vantage along the line of the parade were tremendous. Everywhere the Carnival spirit was evident.
Fully two-thirds were garbed in fantastic costume, and masked with dominoes or grotesque caricatures. All of New Orleans was at play to-day, and it seemed that every soul in the city was in the streets, dancing, capering, shouting, giving full rein to the holiday spirit of reckless merriment.
There would be street dancing after the pageant, Ethel told her. And the Druids would present their pageant and tableau after Rex had passed by. Throughout the city during the afternoon and evening there would be local gatherings for masked street dancing and reviews of masqueraders for the award of prizes.
But King Rex, the Merry Monarch of the Carnival was the focal point of interest now. After he passed the throngs would turn more to localized and group gayety.
St. Charles Avenue was a seething maelstrom of expectant humanity. Police were everywhere, directing traffic as best they could, keeping the route of the parade open good-naturedly and with laughing insistence.
Ethel and Barbara got out of the car a block away from St. Charles and plunged into massed watchers to worm their way through to a reserved point of vantage on a first story balcony overlooking the avenue. The building was owned by Mr. Brinkley, and the balcony was kept cleared each year for those of Ethel’s friends whom she invited to join her for the spectacle.
She and Barbara were breathless and disheveled when they finally gained the stairway leading to the balcony. Barbara’s face was flushed and her eyes were starry. The magnificent spectacle of which she was a part had driven all thought of Robert from her mind. She was determined to grasp the present and hug it to her heart.
Yesterday’s madness seemed far away. The morrow did not exist. Only the present mattered. An exultant and tremendous present. The Carnival spirit flowed through her and exalted her. One could not be a portion of that throng without knowing that only happiness mattered. And happiness was fragmentary and fleeting.
The balcony was massed with costumed and masked revelers. Ethel moved among them, shouting greetings and bandying gay repartee. She held tightly to Barbara’s arm and introduced her impartially to all.
Barbara recognized none as having been among those she had met at Frank’s party … nor was Frank present. But it didn’t seem to matter. They accepted her as one of themselves, and she was happy to be so gladly accepted.
“Oh! There’s Sonia,” Ethel exclaimed suddenly. “I hoped she’d be here. I want you to meet her. You could learn a lot from Sonia.”
“Which one is she?” Barbara asked.
“Over on the edge,” Ethel whispered. “Surrounded by all the best-looking men. She’s not in costume. See? Wearing the sport dress and beret.”
Barbara saw a tall girl sitting in a chair with half a dozen young men hanging about her. She was very dark and very beautiful. The simple sport dress was arrestingly different from the fancy costumes worn by the others.
“She knows her stuff,” Ethel whispered enviously. “She’s the only one up here not in costume.”
“Who is she?” Barbara asked again. “She looks … exotic … and foreign.”
“She’s quite the wickedest wanton in New Orleans,” Ethel told her. “Come on. There’s two empty chairs right behind her. Her name’s Sonia Jenson,” she went on as they moved closer. “The men are all wild about her. All she has to do is crook her finger. She lives alone in a little cottage in the suburbs … and there’s been some pretty rotten rumors of the sort of orgies she pulls out there. But only rumors. The participants don’t talk. Get Frank to tell you about her,” she ended quickly. “He was the wick in her candle all last spring.”
They settled in seats behind Sonia. Barbara was thrilled to her very soul as she gazed out over the expanse of watchers who lined the avenue as far as the eye could reach. It was almost eleven o’clock, the witching hour when Rex was scheduled to start the parade from St. Charles Avenue and Calliope.
A shout of laughter went up from the youths surrounding Sonia. She heard her vibrantly husky voice:
“I pretty near ruined things when I said that. Cousin Hattie’s face turned as red as the wattle on a turkey gobbler.”
Barbara shook her head and stared at the back of Sonia’s beret. Cousin Hattie? She listened tensely.
“… so I told them I’d order some Dervish Delight. I swore on my honor there wasn’t any alcohol in it. Just absinthe, vermouth, and a few harmless ingredients like that.…”
A gale of laughter made her miss the next few words. She glanced sidewise at Ethel and saw she was listening to Sonia too.
“… you can imagine what happened after they wrapped themselves around two pitchers of Dervish Delight. Cousin Hattie was hell-bent on moving about and seeing things. She was so far gone by that time that I got her a bottle of benedictine, and she killed it. When it mixed with the absinthe, she got rather hotcha. You should have seen her squirming around in her chair, trying to keep her hands off that poor old worn-out hulk she’d picked up. There was a gleam in her eye that said, ‘Wait’ll I get you alone, and I’ll show you some tricks these youngsters don’t know’.…”
Another gale of laughter interrupted her. Barbara had forgotten everything in the world except Sonia’s deeply flowing voice. She knew it was absurd to think of Robert’s Cousin Hattie in connection with Sonia’s story. But the thought persisted, and she leaned forward eagerly to hear the end of it.
“… then she remembered that her dear Cousin Robert was going to meet her.…”
The world went black before Barbara’s eyes. She shrank back as though she had been struck in the face. Then Robert was in New Orleans! He must have followed her there. It had been he who phoned when she was out. Happiness followed her dismay. Sonia had seen him perhaps. Perhaps she knew where he was. She leaned forward again to speak to her, but Ethel’s fingers clawed at her shoulder to drag her back.
“Shut up,” Ethel whispered in her ear. “Get a load of this. It may straighten out some goofy ideas you’ve got about your precious Robert.” Her tone was vindictive. Her hand gripped Barbara’s shoulder and counseled silence.
“… he’d come down from a farm upstate to rescue his milkmaid sweetheart from the nasty influence of the city. I was getting such a kick out of them that I couldn’t bear to see their fun spoiled. I’m like that, you know. Big-hearted Sonia. So I told her to go out into the byways with her boy friend and I’d stay to glad-hand the dirt farmer and tell him his Cousin Hattie was all fixed up. She described him to me … and in he walks after a bit. I don’t want to discourage you boys, but believe you me, there weren’t any straws in that boy’s hair.…”
Barbara leaned against Ethel for support. She seemed to have gone all soft inside. The world reeled about, and she closed her eyes to shut out the dizzying spectacle. Through a shrouding mist she heard Sonia’s concluding words:
“… a he-virgin. Don’t get me wrong. I might have laughed yesterday. But I learned something. He was the sweetest damned boy friend I ever had … that’s taking in a lot of territory too. Believe me, I’m off you wise city slickers from now on. I’m going to spend my time plucking cherries from the farm. He stayed all night … and I’ve got a date with him for the dance and carousal at Brierly Manor to-night.” Sonia’s full voice ended abruptly. Laughing questions were showered upon her while Barbara shrank back against Ethel’s comforting arm.
The world had come to an end and she
welcomed the void. She was glad she couldn’t think. And she was fiercely glad she had tried to give herself to Frank last night. She regretted only that she had not known fulfillment. She felt no anger toward Sonia … only a vague envy. Somehow, Sonia’s disregard of morals seemed magnificent. Her own doubts and fears were childish and laughable. She was resolved that she would teach herself to laugh at them as they deserved.
Suddenly there was a blare of exultant music in the distance. A cheer swept along the crowded street. Heads were turned and necks craned for a first glimpse of the long-awaited parade. All along the line of march was restless movement as banners were brought forth and the host swayed forward with thunderous acclaim. Far down the avenue the sunlight was caught by the brilliant color of the first float. King Rex! The merry monarch of the madly festive Carnival! Riding upon a gem-bedecked throne atop a magnificent float irradiating every splendid color of the rainbow!
“All right.” Ethel’s voice spoke in her ear. “Here comes King Rex. Snap out of it, Babs. Mardi Gras is just beginning. This is something you’ll never see again. Rex is proclaiming the end of dull care and the reign of license.”
Barbara set her teeth and swallowed hard. Her hand groped for Ethel’s and held it hard. Then she opened her eyes, and leaned forward with a gasp of wonderment.
The parade of King Rex defies description. Twenty huge floats in splendid cavalcade, each drawn by gayly caparisoned steeds led by mantled footmen. Every colorful detail of each float worked out in meticulous detail, bewildering the onlooker and stunning the imagination with the vivid beauty of the procession.
King Rex rode in state upon the first float, a great bird making a colorful canopy with brilliant plumage. The Monarch bows to the throngs and raises his scepter in joyous gesture.
The cheers were thunderous as he passed down the avenue. Numerous brass bands were interspersed with the floats to add their crashing symphony to the occasion.
Barbara leaned forward with eyes alight to see the second float. It was impossible to think of anything else.
Mardi Gras Madness Page 12
