The title float illustrated the theme of the pageant. This year Rex has chosen “The Conquest of the Air” as the theme to be presented by the various floats.
The earth glittering and spinning amongst clouds and gem-like flowers. A superb float which promises wonders to come.
The next was the flying horse of India. The Oriental splendor of the East is gloriously portrayed on the float as the prince exhibits his wonderful horse to the multitudes.
The Flight of Dædalus and Icarus: father and son flying with wings of feathers.
A Persian legend: Hausa, the Fire Bird. A more beautiful conception could not have been created.
Barbara was breathless as the exquisite floats passed down the avenue. Thousands of dollars and the skill and ingenuity of many men are represented in the Rex Pageant each year. No human can view the magnificent array without carrying away some small feeling that laughter and merriment are good.
Phaeton and the Sun Horses followed swiftly. Pegasus: The Magic Carpet of Bagdad: the Dragon Prince: Perseus and the Gorgon’s Head: The Flying Stool: The Flight of the Viking’s Soul: The Flight of Sinbad; and of Beelzebub.
One could grasp only the salient points of each float before the next appeared to dim the splendor of the preceding. The crowds were hoarse with excessive cheering. Each declared to his neighbor that this year’s pageant far surpassed anything seen before.
Barbara had forgotten Sonia. Robert did not matter. Her soul was lifted above mundane considerations by the glittering spectacle in the avenue below. Each float was a vision of such loveliness that she could only gasp as they came on and on.
The Flight of the Observation Balloons brought the first modern note of the parade. A beautiful tableau of varicolored balloons wafted in the air and surrounded by golden-tinted clouds. A group of soldiers in every glittering uniform of the past and present.
The Witch’s Flight on Halloween followed the balloons. Perhaps the most fantastic and weird of all the floats.
The Nuptial Flight of the Bee was in beautiful contrast with the foregoing. Here the designer had given full and free hand to his imagination in depicting the tragic wedding journey of the Queen Bee and her mate.
A tear streamed down Barbara’s cheek as she turned from the tableau of the Flight from which only one will return. It seemed to her, somehow, symbolic of the tragedy she was finding in discovering passion.
The Flight of Sound Through Air was the next float. Radio and its marvelous development.
The Flight of Santa Claus was the fantasy which made up the next float to the last.
The end of the gorgeous procession was a float which drew a new burst of thunderous applause from the wearied throats of the spectators. The cheers swelled in volume until the very buildings seemed to vibrate with the sound.
A superb concept of the thrilling adventure which stirred the world. Lindbergh! The Flight of The Lone Eagle. A heroic tableau showing the tiny plane poised in mid-ocean while the airman stands in the conflicting elements and watches.
Barbara sank back and her hand went to her bosom as the procession was ended.
“We can stay here and see it go back,” Ethel offered. “They’ll go down St. Charles to Canal and swing around back this way, if you want to wait.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Barbara breathed. “I don’t know whether I want to see it again. I think I’d rather hold the memory I have. Seeing it again might take away some of the beauty by giving me too many details. I … I feel as though I want to hide away and just remember it forever.” She grasped at this memory as a straw to keep her mind from the thing which she had heard before the parade.
Ethel gazed at her understandingly. Her heart ached for her. She knew how Barbara had regarded her love for Robert. It had been something sublime. A thing apart from material considerations.
Now that she had discovered Robert had feet of clay?
What now?
Ethel turned her gaze to the throng below and uttered a little cry. “There’s Frank!” she, exclaimed.
“Oh, Frank! Yoo-hoo!” She leaned over the balcony.
“Where is he?” Barbara was by her side eagerly. Her animation was forced, but her voice rang out eagerly, “I see him. Frank!”
Her voice cut through the shouting and babble about him to Frank’s ears. He looked upward smilingly and saw them on the balcony above.
“Hello,” he called gayly. “You going to wait for Rex to come back?”
Barbara knew, suddenly, what she was going to do. It was as though a voice spoke to her and made her course clear. There was no doubting. No hesitation. There would be no regrets.
“Not if you can get me out of this bedlam,” she called to Frank.
“Nothing easier,” he laughed back. “My car’s parked a few blocks away … out of the jam. Come on down.” He stepped directly beneath the balcony and held out his arms laughingly.
“All right,” Barbara said composedly. She turned to Ethel. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. Frank is exactly what you need. Don’t forget you’re going to the dance at Brierly to-night. That is …” Ethel hesitated in momentary confusion. She remembered that Sonia had said she was going with Robert. She held her breath as she waited to see Barbara’s reaction.
“Of course I’m going,” Barbara told her impatiently. “And I’ll get Frank to bring me home in time for dinner.”
“Come on,” Frank called impatiently. “I’ll catch you.”
Without hesitation Barbara kissed Ethel swiftly and swung her body over the rail. Ethel gasped and clutched at her hand, but Barbara swung clear. She hung there momentarily, her feet some two yards above the sidewalk, and she remembered that she wore nothing whatever beneath the wide skirt.
Her cheeks flamed scarlet as she looked down into Frank’s dancing eyes, and a little burst of laughing applause came from those who stood grouped about him.
Then she let go her grip on the railing and dropped, plummet-like, into his arms.
The skirt flared up above her head as she dropped, and Frank’s arms encircled her nude loins. He held her thus as the costume wafted down about her limbs.
Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him. She hoped Sonia was watching … and she hoped Ethel would tell Sonia who she was … and she wished Robert might see her thus.
Frank’s hands disengaged themselves reluctantly from behind her back, and came away with a lingering caress which made her more wholly his.
“Take me home with you,” she said desperately. “I won’t drink anything this time.” Her eyes promised him while her lips smiled.
“Come on,” he muttered gruffly. “Follow me while I give an imitation of a snow plow as I break a path for you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ethel turned to Sonia as Barbara dropped from the rail into Frank’s arms.
“Hello, Ethel,” Sonia greeted her. “Have you been sitting behind me all the time?”
“Yes. Sitting behind you and listening,” Ethel said pointedly.
“My, my,” Sonia mocked. “I do hope you weren’t shocked. Who is the little maenad who flings herself into the gallant arms of Frank Dupree?” she asked as Frank and Barbara moved away together.
“Her name is Barbara,” Ethel said slowly.
“Barbara?” Sonia wrinkled her brows attractively. “Should that mean anything to me?”
“Did your he-virgin tell you the name of his sweetheart last night?”
“For God’s sake!” Sonia looked her astonishment. “Don’t tell me that’s the Babs whom the poor dear denounced so because she, as he so naïvely put it, had been unfaithful to him.”
“None other,” Ethel said shortly.
“What a small world this is,” Sonia chuckled. “The two babes from the woods certainly are learning city ways with a vengeance. When Frank and I teach them all we know they should be ready to go through marriage without boring each other.”
“I don’t think Babs will ever look at Bob
again,” Ethel said slowly. “They’ll probably both be so ashamed when they get home that they won’t speak to each other.”
“Don’t be silly!” Sonia said vehemently. “This’ll be the best thing in the world that could happen to either one. They both had to learn what it’s all about. Your Babs will be around with a reward for me some day.”
“Tell me about Robert,” Ethel interjected. “How did he seem to feel about Babs?”
“He didn’t say a whole lot about it,” Sonia admitted. “We found more interesting things to do than talk about his sweetheart. He wanted to be all broken up about her, but I snapped him out of his gloom.”
“And he’s taking you to the ball at Brierly Manor to-night?” Ethel asked slowly.
“Circumstances permitting,” Sonia said huskily. She leaned forward so her lips were close to Ethel’s ear and spoke guardedly:
“I’m throwing a thing at my house in his honor this afternoon. We’ll be at the dance if we survive,” she added hopefully. Her eyes were bright and her lips twitched.
Ethel turned to look at her and surprised a strangely furtive gleam of passion in the slumbrous depths of Sonia’s eyes. She flicked her red tongue out to moisten her dry lips.
Ethel drew in her breath sharply and looked away. She had heard whispers of the orgiastic things Sonia sometimes arranged at her home.
“Would you like to come?” Sonia touched her shoulder. “A few extra girls are always in order,” she went on avidly. “Everyone will be masked … until the lights go out. After that it doesn’t matter.”
Her smile suggested a wild abandonment.
“And Robert will be there?” Ethel questioned queerly.
“He doesn’t know what I’ve arranged for him,” Sonia admitted complacently. “I told him I’d throw a little party. Better join us.”
“I will.” Ethel breathed faster. Sonia’s gaze held hers with hypnotic force. Her eyes spoke of mysteries which they would probe together. Of secrets which they would mutually comprehend.
“I’ll be there,” she said quickly. “But tell me more about Cousin Hattie. I know her too. I can’t imagine her at Mardi Gras.”
“I haven’t seen her since she wandered off with her Mr. Simpson,” Sonia admitted smilingly. “The Lord only knows where they ended up.”
“Mr. Simpson?” Ethel asked sharply. She laughed gayly. Could it be the same man? She remembered that was the name of the fellow whom Barbara had asked her to pick up at the station.
“Is he a widower?” she asked.
“I think so,” Sonia told her. “Cousin Hattie’s likely to get her eyes clawed out if he has a wife lurking in ambush. I know he spoke of a couple of kids … Boots and Buddie.” I remember the names because it seemed so funny to hear him say them.”
“That’s the same man.” Ethel laughed helplessly. “To think of those two together at Mardi Gras!”
“You couldn’t appreciate them without seeing them last night,” Sonia told her serenely. She arose. “I’ll expect you this afternoon,” she said with a meaning glance. “I’ve got to get away and prepare things a little bit.”
“I’ll be there,” Ethel promised. “And with a mask on.”
Chapter Seventeen
“We’ll have lunch in the garden,” Frank decided as he held the front door open for Barbara to enter. “You haven’t seen my garden,” he went on quietly. “I want you to. I think you’ll appreciate it. There’s a fountain and a great deal of shade. It’s quite a rendezvous for mocking birds, and I’ve had very good luck with my early flowers.”
Barbara drew in a deep breath and faced him candidly. “I’m sure that lunch in the garden will be quite nice … as a prelude,” she said softly.
“Exactly. I want this afternoon to be … perfection,” Frank said slowly. “I want it to be a jewel in your store of memories. A gleaming pearl which you can take out to fondle if life seems ever dreary to you.”
“You’re … quite understanding.” Barbara smiled at him bravely. “I … I think you’re the most … understanding person I ever met.”
“And you are the sweetest.” Frank smiled at her as he pulled a bell rope. “I’ll have Julia take you up and show you where you can freshen up a bit. Please get rid of that mask … and select anything you like if you wish to change.”
“You seem to have every facility for feminine comfort here in your bachelor abode,” Barbara said challengingly.
“Of course,” Frank acknowledged. “No use remaining a bachelor if one is not prepared to take full advantage of one’s estate. Oh, Julia,” he added as a trimly uniformed mulatto maid stood smiling in the doorway. “Take Miss Barbara up to the green room. See that she has anything she wants. And don’t be too long,” he warned Barbara. “I’ll go into conference with the cook and see what sort of Olympian luncheon can be arranged on the spur of the moment.”
“I’ll hurry,” Barbara assured him. She blew him a kiss as she followed the maid from the room and up the stairs which she had climbed the foregoing night.
Her heart was very light. The afternoon promised much. She refused to consider Bob. She thought only of herself and Frank. Frank had not asked her a single question on the ride to his house. Everything seemed to move toward a perfect adjustment.
She smiled happily at Julia as the girl opened a door and motioned her to enter. Then she gave a little gasp of delighted astonishment. The interior was a symphony in pastel shades of green. A boudoir of enchanted beauty. Walls, rugs, ceiling, furniture, decorations, all had been selected with the utmost discrimination to softly harmonize and achieve an effect of fairy-like splendor.
“It’s beautiful,” she exclaimed to Julia, clasping her hands and trying to see everything at once.
“Yas’m. Hit sho is.” Julia chuckled throatily. She moved sinuously across the room to open a paneled door. “Dis heah am de bafroom,” she announced. “An’ heah am sum things effen youall wants tuh change.” She stepped to another corner and drew back a drape of turquoise satin to disclose a vivid array of dainty gowns, lounging pajamas, robes, and negligees.
Barbara’s eyes sparkled recklessly as she stood in the center of the room. It was like being transported to a land of fantastic enchantment. There was a low vanity with triple mirrors at her left. An assortment of beauty lotions and perfumes were exquisitely displayed before the mirrors. She crossed to a chaise longue and dropped to its softness with a happy sigh.
“If you’ll draw me a bath,” she said slowly, “that’s all I’ll need you for.”
“Yas’m.” Julia smiled broadly and disappeared into the bathroom.
Barbara kicked off her slippers and peeled hosiery off slim legs. The oriental rug beneath her feet was luxuriously soft. She wriggled her toes appreciatively and sighed.
Julia’s beaming face appeared in the doorway. She held two crystal jars of bath salts in her brown hands! “Which youall like?” she asked dubiously.
“Let me smell them,” Barbara said eagerly. She felt like a small child suddenly set down in the midst of toyland.
Julia brought the jars smilingly and held them for Barbara’s inspection. One of rose quartz exuded a sweet and dreamy fragrance. The other was frosty green, giving forth a suggestion of piney woods and sunlight upon lush meadows.
“The green one,” Barbara said quickly.
“Yas’m. I laks dat one too.”
Barbara unfastened the domino and tossed it into the center of the room. It was an incongruous note in the fastidious boudoir. Mardi Gras seemed far away. Yet, inexplicably, the madness of Mardi Gras was the keynote of the bizarre situation.
It had touched her deeply, Barbara reflected. Changed her. Twisted her ideas and her ideals. Changed her character, her personality, her very being. Turned the course of her life from a serene future to a turbulent uncertainty.
She wondered how many others had been so dominated and changed by the festival. Robert, of course, and Hattie. Her mind dwelt upon them broodingly as she stood erect and slipped
off the tight costume. Julia had gone out and closed the door softly behind her. The green boudoir was a miraculous sanctuary.
She stood before the triple mirrors and peered curiously at her nude body. White, slim, virginal. Chastely beautiful. She studied the phrases mockingly. Her body was the same. Remembered curves, straight, clean limbs.
She clasped her arms behind her head and turned lazily to study her profile over a smooth shoulder. Her breasts were thrown out and upward. Proudly. Expectantly. A little quiver passed over her young body and something flamed in her eyes as she studied the firm ovals which lifted from her body as though straining to be away. Ovals of alabaster, flame-tipped and vibrant.
She closed her eyes and shuddered as she felt, once more, Frank’s moist lips as they had seared her white body the preceding night.
Then she sternly pressed such fancies away and hurried to the bathroom. It was exquisite, with sunken tub and softly gleaming marble. She sighed and relaxed in the tantalizing warmth of the fragrant water.
Later she stood before the rack of beautiful garments to choose something to wear in the garden. The nightgowns and negligees were entrancing, but she put them aside with a little smile. She considered, flashingly, what other girls had stood thus and made a selection to please Frank’s sybaritic fancies.
But she put the thought away as displeasing and of little moment. What mattered the past?
She selected a suit of lounging pajamas of sheer silk. A two-piece ensemble of lovely green and burnt umber. She gasped doubtfully as she studied the effect in the mirrors. The garments flowed about her voluptuously and revealingly. The exquisite silk clung to her flesh, and each time she moved the perfection of her figure was wholly revealed. The loose blouse was so designed that the clinging stuff was molded about her breasts as though in passionate embrace.
But she lifted her head proudly as she turned from the mirrors and passed from the room. Why not? Why should she blush to make evident her charms? Had she not come with Frank for this? She had not come with shame, nor with downcast head. She had come willingly … freely. He understood that. Then why shrink from displaying herself to him?
Mardi Gras Madness Page 13
