CHAPTER XIXMARDI-GRAS
Onemorning—it was the day before Mardi-Gras—when Lady Jane entered Pepsie’s room, instead of finding her friend engaged in her usual occupation, the table was cleared of all that pertained to business, and on it was spread a quantity of pink cambric, which Pepsie was measuring and snipping with great gravity.
“Oh, Pepsie, what are you making?” cried Lady Jane, greatly surprised at this display of finery.
“It’s a domino,” replied Pepsie curtly, her mouth full of pins.
“A domino, a domino,” repeated Lady Jane. “What’s a domino? I never saw one.”
“Of course, you never saw one, because you never saw a Mardi-Gras,” said Pepsie, removing the pins, and smiling to herself as she smoothed the pattern on the cloth.
“Mardi-gras! Is it for Mardi-gras?” asked Lady Jane eagerly. “You might tell me all aboutit. I don’t know what it’s for,” she added, much puzzled, and somewhat annoyed at Pepsie’s air of secrecy.
“Well, it’s for some one to wear, Mardi-Gras,” replied Pepsie, still smiling serenely, and with an exasperating air of mystery.
“Oh, Pepsie—who,whois it for?” cried Lady Jane, pressing close, and putting both arms around her friend’s neck; “tell me, please, do! If it’s a secret I won’t tell.”
“Oh, it’s for a little girl I know,” said Pepsie, cutting and slashing the cambric with the greatest indifference, and evidently bent on keeping her own counsel.
Lady Jane stood still for a moment, letting her arms fall from Pepsie’s neck. Her face was downcast, and something like a tear shone on her lashes; then, a little slowly and thoughtfully, she climbed into her chair on the other side of the table, and, leaning on her elbows, watched the absorbed Pepsie silently.
Pepsie pinned, and snipped, and smoothed, all the while smiling with that little air of unconcern which so puzzled the child. Presently, without looking up, she said:
“Can’t you guess, Lady, who it’s for?”
“Isn’t it for Sophie Paichoux?” ventured Lady Jane.
“No, no,” said Pepsie decidedly; “the one I mean it for isn’t any relation to me.”
“Then, I don’t know any other little girl. Oh, Pepsie, I can’t guess.”
“Why, you dear, stupid, little goose!” cried Pepsie, laughing aloud.
“Oh, Pepsie. It isn’t! is it?” and Lady Jane’s eyes shone like stars, and her face broke into a radiant smile. “Do you mean it for me? Really, do you, Pepsie?”
“Why, certainly. Who do you think I’d make it for, if not for you?”
“Oh, you dear, darling Pepsie! But why didn’t you say so just at first? Why—why did you make me,” she hesitated for a word, and then added, “why did you make me—jealous?”
“I only wanted to tease you a little,” laughed Pepsie. “I wanted to see if you’d guess right off. I thought you’d know right away that I didn’t love any one else well enough to make a domino for her, and I wanted to try you, that was all.”
This rather ambiguous explanation was quite satisfactory,and after a great many caresses Pepsie went on to tell that Tante Modeste had been there very early, and that she had invited Lady Jane to go in her milk-cart, that afternoon, up on Canal Street to see the King of the Carnival arrive. The cans were to be taken out of the cart, and an extra seat was to be put in, so that all the young ones could take part in the glorious spectacle.
Then Pepsie waited for Lady Jane to get her breath before she finished telling her of Tante Modeste’s plans for the next day, the long-looked-for Mardi-gras.
The little Paichoux wanted Lady Jane to see everything; by some means she must take an active part in the festivities; she must be on Canal Street not as a spectator, but as an actor in the gay scene.
“Children don’t enjoy it half as well, at least mine don’t,” said Tante Modeste, “if they’re cooped up in a cart, or on a gallery, so the best way is to put a domino on them, and turn them in with the crowd.”
“But I’m afraid for Lady,” demurred Pepsie, “she might get frightened in such a crowd, or she might get lost.”
“You needn’t be afraid of that; Tiburce is going to take care of my young ones, and I’ve told himthat he must hold fast to the child all the time. Then, Tite can go too; I’ve got an old domino that’ll do for her, and she can keep the child’s hand fast on the other side. If they keep together, there’s no danger.”
“But perhaps Madame Jozain won’t allow her to go on Canal Street.”
“Yes, she will, she’ll be glad to get rid of the care of the child. I just met her coming from market, she had a cream cheese for the little one. I guess she’s pretty good to her, when it doesn’t put her out. She says Madame Hortense, the milliner, on Canal Street, is an old friend of hers, and she’s invited her to come and sit on her gallery and see the show, and there’s no room for children, so she’ll be very glad to have her niece taken care of, and it’s so good of me, and all that. Oh dear, dear! I can’t like that woman. I may be wrong, but she’s a dose I can’t swallow,” and Tante Modeste shrugged her shoulders and laughed.
“But Lady’s got no domino,” said Pepsie ruefully, “and I’m afraid Madame Jozain won’t make her one.”
“Never mind saying anything to her about it. Here’s two bits. Send Tite for some cambric, andI’ll cut you a pattern in a minute. I’ve made so many I know all about it, and, my dear, you can sew it up through the day. Have her ready by nine o’clock. I’ll be here by nine. I’m going to take them all up in the cart and turn them out, and they can come back to me when they’re tired.”
In this way Tante Modeste surmounted all difficulties, and the next morning Lady Jane, completely enveloped in a little pink domino, with a tiny pink mask carefully fastened over her rosy face, and her blue eyes wide with delight and wonder sparkling through the two holes, was lifted into the milk cart with the brood of little Paichoux, and with many good-byes to poor forlorn Pepsie and to Tony, who was standing dejectedly on one leg, the happy child was rattled away in the bright sunlight, through the merry, noisy crowd, to that center of every delight, Canal Street, on Mardi-gras.
There was no room for Tite Souris in the cart, so that dusky maiden, arrayed in the colors of a demon of darkness, an old red domino with black, bat-like wings, was obliged to take herself to the rendezvous, near the Clay statue, by whatever means of locomotion she could command. When the cart was passing Rue Royale, there was Tite in her uncanny disguise,flapping her black wings, and scuttling along as fast as her thin legs would carry her.
At last the excited party in the milk cart and the model for a diabolical flying machine were together under Tante Modeste’s severe scrutiny, listening with much-divided attention to her final instructions.
“Tiburce, attend to what I tell you,” she said impressively; “you are the eldest of the party, and you must take care of the little ones, especially of Lady Jane; keep her hand in yours all the time, mind what I say—don’t let go of her. And you, Tite, keep on the other side and hold her hand fast. Sophie, you can go in front with the two smallest, and the others can follow behind. Now keep together, and go along decently, no running or racketing on the street, and as soon as the procession passes, you had better come back to me. You will be tired and ready to go home. And Tite, remember what Miss Pepsie told you about Miss Lady. If you let anything happen to her, you’d better go and drown yourself.”
Tite, with her wings poised for flight, promised everything, even to drowning herself if necessary; and before Tante Modeste had climbed into her cart the whole brood had disappeared amongst the motley crowd.
At first, Lady Jane was a little frightened at the noise and confusion; but she had a brave little heart, and clung tightly to Tiburce on one side and Tite on the other. In a few moments she was quite reassured and as happy as any of the merry little imps around her.
It was delightful; she seemed to be carried along in a stream of riotous life, all disguised and decorated to suit their individual fancies. There were demons and angels, clowns and monks, imps and fairies, animals and birds, fish and insects—in fact, everything that the richest imagination could devise.
At first, Tite Souris ambled along quite decorously, making now and then a little essay at flying with her one free wing, which gave her a curious one-sided appearance, provoking much mirth among the little Paichoux; but at length restraint became irksome, and finally impossible. She could bear it no longer, even if she died for it. Ignoring all her promises, and the awful reckoning in store for her, with one bound for freedom she tore herself from Lady Jane’s clinging hand and, flapping her hideous wings, plunged into the crowd, and was instantly swallowed up in the vortex of humanity that whirled everywhere.
The procession was coming, the crowd grew very dense, and they were pulled, and pushed, and jostled; but still Tiburce, who was a strong, courageous boy, held his ground, and landed Lady Jane on a window-sill, where she could have a good view. The other Paichoux, under the generalship of Sophie, came up to form a guard, and so, in a very secure and comfortable position, in spite of Tite’s desertion Lady Jane saw the procession of King Rex, and his royal household.
When Tiburce told her that the beautiful Bœuf gras, decorated so gaily with flowers and ribbons, would be killed and eaten afterward, she almost shed tears, and when he further informed her that King Rex was no King at all, only a citizen dressed as a King in satin and velvet, and feathers, she doubted it, and still clung to the illusion that he must sit always on a throne, and wear a crown, according to the traditions of Mr. Gex.
Now that the procession was over, all might have gone well if Tiburce had held out as he began; but alas! in an evil moment, he yielded to temptation and fell.
They were on their way back to Tante Modeste, quite satisfied with all they had seen, when they cameupon a crowd gathered around the door of a fashionable club. From the balcony above a party of young men, who were more generous than wise, were throwing small change, dimes and nickels, into the crowd, that the rabble might scramble for them; and there right in the midst of the seething mass was Tite Souris, her domino hanging in rags, her wings gone, and her whole appearance very dilapidated and disorderly; but the demon of greed was gleaming in her eyes, and her teeth were showing in a fierce, white line, while she plunged and struggled and battled for the root of all evil.
Tiburce’s first intention was to make a detour of the crowd; but just as he was about to do so the gleam of a dime on the edge of the sidewalk caught his eye, and, overcome by the spirit of avarice, he forgot everything, and dropped Lady Jane’s hand to make a dive for it.
Lady Jane never knew how it happened, but in an instant she was whirled away from the Paichoux, swept on with the crowd that a policeman was driving before him, and carried she knew not where.
At first she ran hither and thither, seizing upon every domino that bore the least resemblance to hercompanions, and calling Tiburce, Sophie, Nanette, in heartrending tones, until quite exhausted she sank down in a doorway, and watched the crowd surge past her.