Mardi Gras Madness (Carnival of Love)

Chapter Ten

Robert saw nothing and heard nothing as he stumbled out of the obscure hotel onto the side street and turned toward Canal. The brilliantly lighted and fantastically decorated shop windows made no appeal to his senses. It was not until he stood upon the great width of the Canal Street sidewalk and was a part of the turbulent throng there that he opened his eyes to realize that he was gazing upon one of the greatest spectacles of modern times.

Canal Street has been called the widest business street in the world. Perhaps it is not that. But it is unique and incomparable. Pink paving is a bizarre note which holds one in stupefaction. More street car tracks than one cares to count; a brilliant lighting system which dazzles the onlooker; these are ordinary aspects of Canal Street.

The effect upon one on the eve of Mardi Gras is to give the impression that one has been literally transported from the commonplace world of humdrum monotony to a fantastic land of make-believe. It is sheer impossibility to describe Canal Street upon this occasion.

Robert was borne along with the sidewalk merrymakers, and his eyes were flatly disbelieving. This could not, of course, be true. It was all a mad dream. Soon he would awaken and laugh at the insane memory.

But the dream persisted. Canal Street is the huge central artery of New Orleans. On the eve of Mardi Gras it throbs and pulsates with the sheer glory of life. For life is glorious on Mardi Gras eve, and a half a million people are loudly acclaiming its glory.

This mass spirit of hilarious joy could not fail to have a certain effect upon Robert. He had stumbled from the hotel in the grip of an awful despair. His soul was dead and he welcomed death.

Canal Street scoffed at his despair. It jeered at death. It defied the premise that life is real and life is earnest. It shouted that there is a joy in living which transcends all mortality. It screamed that only the present matters; the past is dead, and the future nonexistent.

With a great roaring rumble of thunderous applause it proclaimed that here were a mighty host who dedicated this night to mirth and pleasure.

Robert’s step quickened. His face brightened and he tentatively smiled. A girl by his side caught the smile and held it as her own. She had flashing eyes and ruby lips. Her arms were about Robert’s neck before he realized what was occurring. The ruby lips were pressed close upon his own, and the girl’s breasts sent a surge of mad pleasure through his body.

The kiss lasted longer, than any kiss Robert had experienced, and he gasped as the girl swayed away from him. Her smile was flashingly exultant.

“I choose you,” she cried gayly. “Come on.” Her hand sought his and she tried to drag him from the hurrying throng.

“I’m sorry.” Robert drew his hand away gently. His pulses tingled at the promise which was in her touch.

“Already taken?” she laughed. “You would be.” Her admiring glance followed him as he moved on toward Claiborne.

Robert was strangely moved by the brief incident. To him it took on a vast significance. He held his head erect and brushed past the laggards impatiently.

A bold gypsy lass espied him as he neared her. She planted herself in his path so he bumped into her before he saw she was there.

“Watch out!” She stepped clear of his path and rubbed her sinewy arm ruefully.

“Did I hurt you?” Robert was aghast.

“Yes, you did,” she pouted. “Kiss the hurt away.” She held her arm out to him impudently.

Robert gingerly lowered his head and brushed her arm with his lips.

Her eyes were bright as they took in his clean Strength. Her arm encircled his neck and drew his head close to her bosom.

“You’re sweet,” she whispered in his ear. “And I’m all alone to-night... of all nights.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered inanely.

“Sorry?” she mocked. “Is that the best you can offer? Anything goes to-night. And I’ve got plenty.” She winked one dark lash at him and rubbed her body against him suggestively.

“I... I... I’m sorry,” Robert muttered. He loosed himself from her and hurried down the street.

She made a little face after him. “Off after some other wench!” she exclaimed angrily. “It’s his hard luck... but, Gawd, I coulda shown that han’some son-of-a-gun a thing or two.”

Robert looked neither to the right nor left as he turned into Claiborne and hurried westward. He was feverishly impatient to reach the Brinkley home, for he.had a feeling that Barbara would be awaiting him. Mr. Brinkley would have told her of his phone call, and he envisioned her waiting for him breathlessly at the front gate.

The two encounters on the street had given him new courage. He felt savagely capable of sweeping all Babs’ protestations away. The red wine of passion coursed through his veins for the first time in his life. And it was heady stuff.

He would teach Babs passion, he thought exultantly. How exceedingly wonderful it would be to teach her gently what he had learned this night.

Claiborne was much quieter than Canal Street. There were many groups of riotous couples, and Robert was accosted by several girls who strolled singly, but he did not pause to talk with any. His soul cried out that he must hurry to Babs.

He came to the street at last, and turned up it more slowly, looking for house numbers to locate the Brinkley home. This street was deserted and quiet. So much in contrast to the hurly-burly just quitted that it seemed endless leagues removed.

He found the house at last. A two-story home set back from the street in the center of a lawn. A thick hedge, shoulder-high, surrounded the yard. A dim light gleamed in the front window as he halted on the sidewalk and considered his course.

Somehow, the house seemed cold and lifeless. It was inconceivable that its bulk sheltered the vital spirit that was Babs. Perhaps she had not yet returned. A cold chill overtook him at the thought. He studied his watch in the dim glow from a street lamp on the corner and discovered that it was eleven-thirty. He could not believe she would still be out.

Cautiously he moved up the path until he stood directly before the front door. There was no sign of life within the dimly lit parlor. Only one floor lamp was burning.

He shook his head dismally and retraced his steps to the front gate. He knew that Babs had not returned. She would have waited expectantly for him if she had returned in the interim.

What to do? He considered swiftly. He could not return to the hotel without seeing her. Until he saw her there would be no rest for him.

He decided he would wait. Certainly, he thought, she would come at any moment. Never in all her life had he known of Babs being out later than ten o’clock. He would wait.

So he waited. For two hours he waited, tortured with jealousies and anxious with fears for her safety.

He was suddenly aware of the lights of an approaching automobile. Other automobiles had approached while his heart stood still... and passed on.

This was different. Some hidden sense, warned him that this was the automobile he had long awaited. He sat near the path in the dark shadow of the hedge, his knees drawn up beneath his chin — a picture of abject misery.

He felt strangely lethargic as the car ground to a halt in front of the house. There were light voices and Barbara’s clear laugh. It was, indeed, she.

He made no move to arise. He saw that a man drove the car. And Ethel was with them. He breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving as he noted there were only the three. What a fool he had been! Of course Babs had just gone out for a ride with Ethel and her friend.

Then occurred that terrible scene which Robert was never wholly to efface from his memory. Ethel stepped from the car first and helped Barbara to alight. The driver leaped from the seat and hurried around the car to murmur indistinguishable words.

Ethel moved away and the man had his arm about Babs’ waist!

Barbara’s voice:

“I’ve always thought I’d feel terrible after doing this the first time... I don’t... I’m not a bit ashamed.”

The world stood still for Robert.

The stranger’s voice:

“I’m so glad... never cease calling myself a dog...”

Barbara! Stopping at the gate not five feet from Robert. Lifting her arms to the stranger. Her voice, warm and vibrant:

“Kiss me. I want to thank you... for — everything...”

Robert heard nothing more. A merciful blackness descended which shut out the remainder of the horrible scene.

He was not conscious that the automobile sped away. He did not hear Barbara and Ethel go up the front steps and slam the door behind them.

He did not know that he stumbled and fell as he ran from the hideous thing he had overheard.

He knew only that he must escape... and that there could be no escape from the black phantom which pursued him.