Volume I Part 1 (2/2)
It is true that there are these exceptions, and that you have a chance of falling in with one of these ladies. Indeed, it would distress me to rob you of the many illusions in which the charm of a masquerade consists; but I must remind you that these _comme il faut_ ladies are not at the ball to enter into an intrigue; it is always an intrigue already begun that brings them there. And then, what probability is there that one of them will come to you, take your arm, and say: ”I know you!” when she does not know you and has not come to the ball on your account? Are you not convinced now that you will not intrigue with one of these ladies?
No, you are not, because in your heart you consider yourself a sufficiently attractive youth to take the eye of a n.o.bly-born dame, who may not have come on your account, but who would be very glad to make your acquaintance. That is your idea; it is very pleasant to you to believe that! Very well, believe it! If it makes you happy, you are wise. Cradle yourself in the sweetest illusions, let your imagination run riot, though you have nothing to show for your stick of candy.
On a certain night, in the year eighteen hundred and fifty-six--it was Mi-Careme, and consequently the last day of license permitted after the Carnival. It was therefore the last Opera masquerade, and so it was magnificent in respect to numbers, uproar and eccentric costumes. There were, as always, numbers of pretty little women dressed as _debardeurs_,[A] that is to say, in high-necked s.h.i.+rts, velvet or satin breeches with broad bands of brilliant colors, sash tied behind, and on their heads a sort of foraging-cap covered with flowers and worn over the ear in the true swaggering style.
There were Pierrots of all colors and sizes, a few ladies dressed a la Pompadour, many gypsies, and some of those young men who are determined to attract notice at any cost, and for that purpose adopt a costume to which it is difficult to give a name. One, dressed in knee-breeches of spangled satin, wore high postilion's boots and a Turkish jacket; on his back he had a quiver, on his head a saucepan by way of helmet, and fastened to the saucepan, a plume of enormous size. This plume, which waved in the air three feet above the crowd, could be seen from one end of the hall to the other. It must have been fatiguing to have that immense thing on one's head; but what do not people do at a masquerade, to attract attention?
Another represented a savage or a bear, it was hard to tell which. He had made himself a sort of crown with those little brooms which are sold for three sous. He carried an umbrella in one hand and a fan in the other. The more extravagant one's costume, the more trouble one takes to be seen by the mult.i.tude.
But the orchestra gave the signal for a quadrille. As a general rule, all those maskers who are costumed in character dance, for they aim to display as much extravagance in their dancing as in their costumes.
Unluckily for them, there are officials whose duty it is to moderate their enthusiasm and to call them to order when they put too much _laissez-aller_ into their steps. In heaven's name, what would they do if they were not watched!
The quadrille almost always ends in a general galop. Thereupon everyone joins in and is whirled away in the vortex. The innumerable sets are confounded in a resistless torrent of gallopers which roars around the ball-room, in five, six, sometimes seven rows at once; all galloping and jumping and running! Woe to the unlucky wight who stumbles! the torrent stops only with the music, and he would inevitably be trampled under the feet of the dancers.
But do not be alarmed, n.o.body falls; they all are sure-footed and agile performers; and those pretty little female _debardeurs_, who seemed to you but now so slender and delicate, are often the most intrepid of all in that mad galop in which one must not pause.
Toward the end, the orchestra quickens the time; then it ceases to be a dance; it is a genuine delirium, a frenzy; shouts and singing blend with the music, and the whirling ma.s.s pa.s.ses before you like a railroad train. At that moment, the sight is truly miraculous, truly interesting to watch; and we know many people who go to the Opera ball solely to sit in a box and watch the galop at their ease. In truth, I doubt whether anything similar can be seen elsewhere.
Two dominos had just entered one of the proscenium boxes. The first, pearl-gray, trimmed with rich lace, was worn by a tall, slender woman whose well-developed figure it outlined sharply. Despite her disguise, one could divine that the costume covered a person well accustomed to the noisy demonstrations of the maskers and to the eccentricities of the dancers. There was something bold and determined in her manner, and, as she watched the galop which was then at its height, the gray domino seemed neither surprised nor fascinated; she gazed at that rus.h.i.+ng torrent, not like a person enjoying an entertaining spectacle, but like a person at the theatre who pays no attention to the play that is in progress, but is solely occupied in looking for someone among the audience.
The second domino was black; it was worn by a person of medium height and decent demeanor, in whose appearance there was nothing to attract attention. She, however, seemed to take much pleasure in watching the galop, and from time to time uttered exclamations eloquent of the surprise which that frenzied dance caused her.
The two ladies had seated themselves at the front of the box, where, in all probability, their seats had been engaged. The gray domino, whose eyes were fastened on the dancing throng, was certainly looking for someone; the black domino, who was looking for no one, cried from time to time:
”Oh! look there, my dear! how they push one another! See! that tall Pierrot has taken his partner in his arms and away he dances with her!
Mon Dieu! suppose he should fall! And see that Marquise Pompadour with her wig half off; she's going to lose her wig! look, Thelenie!”
”Yes, yes, I see; but I beg you, my dear Helose, not to make so many exclamations; anyone would think you had never seen anything.”
”But I haven't ever seen the Opera ball. I've been to Valentino, Sainte-Cecile, and the Salle Barthelemy.”
”Enough, enough! for heaven's sake, keep quiet, and above all things, remember not to call me by name when you speak to me. You must see that it isn't worth while for me to disguise myself carefully if you are going to shout my name in the ears of everybody who pa.s.ses.”
”I only mentioned your given name.”
”And that's just the one that people know best; and as it isn't so common as yours, anybody would know it was I.”
”That's so; your name's a very pretty one--like a name in a novel; did your parents give it to you, or did you take it?”
The gray domino did not think it best to answer this question except by a slight shrug, which clearly signified: ”Mon Dieu! how stupid you are!”
But the black domino, who perhaps did not understand pantomime, went on talking none the less.
”For my part, I'd rather be named Thelenie than Helose: Helose is very common, and then it seems there's some story about a Helose and her lover, a Monsieur Abelard. I don't know it myself, it must be an old story, for I've never read it in the papers. But it seems that it's laughable, for the men who make love to me say: 'O lovely Helose, I'd like to be your lover, but not your Abelard!'--I always pretend to understand, for I don't want to seem ignorant; I wouldn't dare ask them to tell me about the adventures of those two, so I just laugh and say: 'Tell me, why don't you want to be my Abelard? you're very hard to suit!' Then they laugh harder than ever.--I say, Thelenie, you know such a lot of things, you've had an education--tell me that story, won't you?”
Tall Thelenie, for we know now the pearl-gray domino's name, thanks to her companion's prattle, suddenly placed her hand on the black domino's and said:
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