Mardi Gras Madness (Carnival of Love)

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.

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.”