Mardi Gras Madness (Carnival of Love)

Chapter Twenty-one

“I’ll have to stay well in the background to-night,” Ethel mused. “If Bob saw me it might start him thinking about you and looking for you. Though I don’t think there’s a chance in the world of him recognizing you in that outfit.” It was later in the evening and they were driving swiftly toward Brierly Manor.

“I feel so thrilled and funny,” Barbara exclaimed. Her eyes peered out from the slits in the full mask and were full of dancing lights. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I meet Bob. I feel as though I might explode when he looks at me.”

“Don’t lose your head,” Ethel cautioned. “Remember this is your night and you’re on masquerade. Don’t forget to change your voice as much as you can... and say just as little as possible. The quiet and demure pose is always intriguing.”

“Yes, I know.” Barbara laughed gayly. “How’s this?” She spoke throatily, in tones totally unlike her natural voice: “You’re doin’ things to my heart, big boy. How’s for steppin’ into the garden where we can cut loose?”

“Fine,” Ethel applauded. “He’ll never know you in a thousand years if you can remember to talk like that. Gee, I’m all thrilled myself to watch how it turns out.” She sighed wistfully and stepped on the accelerator.

“We’re almost there,” she muttered. “And just late enough to make an imposing entrance.”

“Is that it?” Barbara asked eagerly, pointing ahead to a subdued glow showing through a grove of trees.

“That’s it,” Ethel said complacently. “Keep a tight hold on everything, and remember you’re the Comtesse Du Barry tonight.”

She swerved the heavy car between stone pillars which flanked a concrete driveway. The subdued glow became a blaze of light. Large globes at the top of high poles illuminated a parking area nearly filled with massed automobiles.

Beyond, the mansion was a blaze of light. A uniformed attendant guided them to a parking place and helped them to alight. Soft strains of music came from the house and beyond. Muted laughter and the murmur of voices.

Barbara clutched desperately at Ethel’s arm as they passed up the walk together. For an instant she was desperately afraid. She felt an intruder, a fraud. Certainly they would find her out. A country girl daring to masquerade as the Comtesse Du Barry! It was absurd.

But Ethel pushed her away with mock viciousness. “Go it alone,” she said between her teeth. “You have your invitation in your bag. I’ll hang around outside until you conquer the receiving line. Strut your stuff and hold your head up.” She thrust her forward to climb the steps of the wide veranda alone.

Barbara drew on some hidden strength to move up the stairs and across the porch to the masked group in the doorway. She held her beaded bag fiercely and searched for the engraved invitation with nerveless fingers. A statuesque lady greeted her first. She wore a domino and a pleasant smile. That was all Barbara saw. She pushed the invitation toward her helplessly, and the lady passed it to a robust gentleman without a glance.

Barbara hesitated in the doorway as the statuesque lady took her hand warmly. She had a confused impression of a huge room crowded with people in fantastic regalia who paid her no heed.

Then the robust gentleman announced her in stentorian tones:

“The Comtesse Du Barry!” reading from the invitation where Ethel had scrawled the words.

It seemed to Barbara that every tongue in the crowded room was silenced, and that every eye was upon her. Through opened doors she could see the ballroom beyond. The strains of the orchestra came to her, and she could see couples moving to the slow rhythm of the waltz.

Bob would be there... and Sonia!

She started forward impulsively. She shook hands with strangers and murmured meaningless words in response to meaningless words as she moved down the receiving line toward the wide doors of the ballroom. She heard admiring comments, but paid them no heed. There was room for only one thought in her mind. One hope. One overwhelming necessity.

She must find Bob. The faces about her faded into an indistinguishable blur. Her lips moved mechanically behind the mask, and her eyes smiled impartially at all.

Then she was standing on the threshold of the ballroom. It was a blaze of light and of vivid color. A row of stags stood against the wall. The entire row surged toward her as one man. An emaciated person in a devil’s costume outstripped the others. His arm was about her and swung her toward the polished dance floor.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” she protested.

“Nor am I.” He laughed down at her. They were in the midst of other gyrating couples. Barbara let him draw her close as they took up the smooth step. She wasn’t thinking about him... nor about the dance. Every fiber of her body was fired with the need to find Bob among the dancers.

She peered into every face as she passed, seeking any one of the three... Frank, Sonia, or Bob.

“Looking for someone?” Her partner had noticed her questing eyes. He smiled down at her tolerantly.

“Yes,” she admitted breathlessly. “Someone I must find.”

“He or she?” he asked quickly.

“He,” Barbara admitted with a quickly tossed, coquettish glance.

“As I thought,” the emaciated devil said mournfully. “I might have known you were too good to be true. Something like you happens once every thousand years... and you’re always looking for the other man. Tell me how he’s costumed so I can steer you away from him if I’m lucky enough to see him first.”

“I will not,” Barbara retorted. “For the perfectly good reason that I don’t know myself. And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.” She smiled at him to take the sting from her words.

“Nothing could be fairer,” he admitted. The dance ended abruptly, and he clapped his hands with others for an encore.

They danced again, and Barbara’s eyes continued their anxious seeking. Perhaps the others were outside at one of the other two dance pavilions. But she did not think so. Sonia had definitely promised to give Bob to her. Surely she would contrive to remain where they could be found.

A strange fear took hold of Barbara and the gayety died from her eyes. Perhaps Sonia and Bob had not come. Suppose Sonia had reconsidered after promising? Suppose she had promised only to stop Barbara’s importunities? Perhaps she had not meant to come at all. Bob might, even now, be at her cottage with her. Behind those white walls which must hold so many secrets.

Barbara’s heart seemed to cease beating, and she missed a step.

“Anything wrong?” her tall partner asked quickly. “I suppose you’ve found him,” he went on angrily.

Barbara swallowed a sob and made her lips smile. “That’s exactly the trouble,” she admitted. “I don’t see him.”

Then she saw Frank, and the world righted itself. He stood against the wall, dressed in a natty sailor costume. Barbara recognized him instantly. He surveyed the dancers moodily and his face looked wearied beneath its half mask.

“There,” Barbara breathed exultantly. “Let’s dance over to him.” She indicated Frank to her partner.

“Is that the reprobate you’re looking for?”

“One of them,” Barbara said nervously.

“One of them?” He sighed moodily, but dexterously steered a way among the moving couples to Frank’s side.

Barbara stopped before him and hesitated. His shoulders were drooped and his face was positively haggard. He stared at Barbara listlessly.

“Introduce me,” Barbara commanded her partner in the husky voice she had chosen. “Mr. Frank Dupree.”

Frank drew himself up with quickened interest as the fiend from the lower regions intoned:

“Mr. Dupree... may I have the exalted honor... the Comtesse Du Barry.”

Barbara made a graceful curtsy before Frank and extended her hand in Old World fashion.

She saw that Frank did not recognize her, though his eyes gleamed and he smiled.

“Delighted,” he murmured, bowing and kissing the back of her hand punctiliously. His gaze took her in boldly, and his smile became warmer.

“I guess that ends my usefulness,” the emaciated man murmured dolefully. He backed away and disappeared among the dancers.

“You don’t recognize me... after this afternoon?” Barbara spoke in her natural tone.

“Barbara!” Frank started violently and peered at her masked face. “Is it really you?” he asked unbelievingly.

“I should think I was nearly enough undressed so you’d recognize me even with my face hidden,” Barbara taunted. She wasn’t afraid any more. She felt that Frank would surely know where Sonia and Bob were.

“You’re exquisite,” Frank stammered. “Why you’re... you’re like a reincarnation of a beautiful old painting.”

“You didn’t find those things out this afternoon?” Barbara asked gravely. “Then the clothes do make the courtesan.”

“I’m speechless,” Frank admitted. “I could go into rhapsodies if I permitted myself. You’re desire incarnate. A dream of loveliness such as to take any man’s breath away.”

“Then you don’t think... Bob will recognize me?”

“Bob? Oh yes.” Frank swallowed quickly. His eyes flickered about nervously and did not meet Barbara’s. “I... I’m sure he won’t recognize you,” he said with attempted lightness.

“Where is he?” Barbara asked the question tensely.

“See here, dear.” Frank took her hand gently. “You’re sure you want to go through with this mad scheme? Certain you want Bob after... after all? You... won’t reconsider?”

“Isn’t he here?” Barbara asked wildly. “Is that what you’re trying to say? Tell me! Tell me!”

“He’s here,” Frank said tonelessly. “He and Sonia are out on the porch. Sonia told me what she had promised you... and I stayed here to find you and take you to her.” He hesitated and wet his lips. Words of love came surging to his lips. But he beat them back. His lips twisted sardonically as he considered his predicament. For the first time in his life he had found a meaning to love. He felt like a stammering schoolboy as he faced Barbara’s splendid beauty. His lips trembled with a sudden avowal of his love. But he did not speak. He saw in her eyes that his love was hopeless. Her beauty and the maidenly wonder of her body were all for another. His own love seemed coarse and unworthy in the light of dawning hope which flamed from her eyes as she understood Bob was near.

“Come.” He felt wearied and disillusioned. He linked his arm in hers and led her toward the dimly lit porch.

Barbara did not speak again until they faced Sonia and Bob as they stood apart from the others on the porch. Her heart was too full for words. She understood Frank’s unspoken meaning, and she understood the gallantry which prompted him to remain silent and take her to Bob.

It seemed to her that the whole world was more radiant with the happiness of knowing that she and Bob were to be brought together again. It seemed to her that all of the Mardi Gras Festival had been arranged unerringly to bring about this consummation.

She pitied Frank, yet in her heart she knew he should not be pitied. She had done well if she had taught him love. He would forget the girl who taught him... but he would not forget the new meaning which love gave to life. Both she and Frank had gained in the interchange. Both would carry away something from the experience which would make their lives more complete.

She drew in her breath happily as she saw Sonia and Bob dimly outlined against the lights from the grove. Her hand stole into Frank’s... to give and receive comfort as they advanced toward the couple.

Sonia was in gypsy costume. All flamboyant colors and radiating a self-assured boldness which fitted the masquerade she had assumed.

But Barbara’s eyes went quickly to Bob as she and Frank halted before him. He had elected to wear his old clothes and a battered straw hat. A “piney-woods” farmer from the sparsely settled districts upstate.

The straw hat shaded his face so Barbara could not see him very well. But a great surge of pity swept over her as she noted his drawn cheeks and pitiably grim mouth.

Mardi Gras had hurt him. Terribly. Had wrought changes upon his body and his soul which could never be wholly effaced. Flashingly, Barbara saw herself as entirely to blame. The fault was hers, and she knew she would sacrifice the remainder of her life to ridding him of the memories Mardi Gras had given him.

“Allow me.” Frank was bowing gracefully and his voice came to Barbara as though he spoke from a great distance.

“May I present you to the Comtesse Du Barry?”

Sonia’s breath was quickly indrawn, and she regarded Barbara queerly. She did not move, but a violent antagonism seemed to flow from her. She made a protective motion toward Bob, but Barbara checked her calmly.

“Thank you.” She did not forget her new rôle, and she automatically assumed the voice she had chosen for the part.

She swayed toward Bob and grasped his hand in hers. It felt cold and lifeless. She wanted, desperately, to warm it, to fire him with the same flame which flowed through her veins.

“Shall we dance?” Her face was very close to Bob’s, and she willed with all the strength of her youth and love that he should follow her.

Bob hesitated listlessly and half turned toward Sonia.

Barbara moved closer to him and lifted his hand to place it on the smooth flesh of her back where the material did not come together.

“Come with me,” she whispered huskily in his ear. Her body was against him and the vital force of her love was communicated to him. She felt him tremble, and she knew she had won the first engagement with the forces which had cast their net about him.

He turned to Sonia: “You don’t mind?”

Sonia shrugged her shoulders elaborately. “No,” she said quietly, “I don’t mind.”

Barbara moved away, holding tightly to Bob’s hand. She must face the bright lights of the ballroom, and her heart almost failed her. Suppose he should recognize her before she had an opportunity to break the spell which held him?

But Bob solved that problem for her. “How about dancing outdoors?” he muttered thickly. “Cooler out here and not so crowded.”

“All right.” Barbara did not trust herself to say more. Hand in hand they went down the steps toward the colorful dancing pavilion.

Frank cleared his throat and stared after them. “Lucky kids,” he muttered with a queer huskiness in his tone. “They make me feel a hundred years old.”

“Shut up, you damn fool,” Sonia snapped at him. “Give me a handkerchief quick... and if you ever tell anyone you saw me cry... I’ll... I’ll shoot you.” The last words were muffled as Frank handed her a handkerchief and slipped his arm about her shoulders comfortingly.