The evening before that of the ball gave us lively disappointment. A fine
rain began to fall. But Celeste came to assure us that in St. Martinville
a storm had never prevented a ball, and if one had to go by boat, still
one had to go. Later the weather improved, and several young gentlemen
came to visit us.... "Will there be a supper, chevalier?" asked the
baroness of her future son-in-law.--"Ah, good! For me the supper is the
best part of the affair."
Alas! man proposes. The next morning she was in bed suffering greatly with
her throat. "Neither supper nor ball for me this evening," she said. "The
Countess de la Houssaye will take care of you and Celeste this evening."...
At last our toilets were complete....
When Madame de la Houssaye opened the door and saw us, instead of
approaching, she suddenly stopped with her hands clasped convulsively, and
with eyes dilated and a pallor and look of astonishment that I shall never
forget. I was about to speak when she ran to Suzanne and seized her by the
arm.
"Child! for pity answer me! Where did that dress--these jewels, come
from?"
"Madame!" said my sister, quickly taking offense.
"Françoise!" cried the countess, "you will answer me. Listen. The last
time I saw the Countess Aurélie de Morainville, six years ago, was at a
reception of Queen Marie Antoinette, and she wore a dress exactly like
that of Suzanne's. My child, pity my emotions and tell me where you bought
that toilet." I answered, almost as deeply moved as she:
"We did not buy it, madame. These costumes were given to us by Madame
Carpentier."
"Given! Do you know the price of these things?"
"Yes; and, moreover, Madame du Clozel has told us."
"And you tell me a poor woman, the wife of a gardener, made you these
presents. Oh! I must see this Madame Carpentier. She must have known Alix.
And who knows--oh, yes, yes! I must go myself and see her."
"And I must give her forewarning," I said to myself. But, alas! as I have
just said, "Man proposes, God disposes." About six months after our return
to St. James we heard of the death of the Countess de la Houssaye, which
had occurred only two months after our leaving St. Martinville....
* * * * *
Oh, how my heart beat as I saw the lights of the ball-room and heard its
waves of harmony! I had already attended several dances in the
neighborhood of our home, but they could not compare with this. The walls
were entirely covered with green branches mingled with flowers of all
colors, especially with magnolias whose odor filled the room. Hidden among
the leaves were millions of fantastically colored lampions seeming like
so many glow-worms.[21] To me, poor little rustic of sixteen, it seemed
supernaturally beautiful. But the prettiest part--opposite the door had
been raised a platform surmounted by a dais made of three flags: the
French, Spanish, and Prussian--Prussia was papa's country. And under these
colors, on a pedestal that supported them, were seen, in immense letters
composed of flowers, the one German word, _Bewillkommen_! Papa explained
that the word meant "Welcome." On the platform, attired with inconceivable
elegance, was the master of ceremonies, the handsome Neville Déclouet
himself, waiting to wish us welcome anew.
It would take volumes, my daughter, to describe the admirable toilets,
masculine as well as feminine, of that memorable night. The thing is
impossible. But I must describe that of the king of the festival, the
young Neville, that you may understand the immense difference between the
toilets of 1795 and those of 1822.
Neville had arranged his hair exactly as on the day we first saw him. It
was powdered white; his pigeon-wings were fastened with the same pins of
gold, and his long queue was wrapped with a rose-colored ribbon. His coat
was of frosted rose silk with broad facings of black velvet. His vest came
down nearly to his knees. It also was of rose silk, but covered with black
buttons. His breeches, also rose, were fastened at the knees with black
velvet ribbons escaping from diamond buckles and falling upon silk
stockings shot alternately with black and rose. Diamonds sparkled again on
his lace frill, at his wrists, on his cravat of rose silk, and on the
buckles of his pumps.
I cast my eye around to find Tonton, but she had not come. Some one near
me said, "Do you know who will escort Madame du Rocher to the ball?" And
another said, "Here is Neville, so who will replace him at the side of the
pretty widow?"
As we entered the room the Baron du Clozel passed his arm under papa's and
conducted him to the platform, while his sons, following, drew us forward
to receive the tributes prepared for us. Neville bowed low and began his
address. At first he spoke with feeling and eloquence, but by and by he
lost the thread. He cast a look of despair upon the crowd, which did not
conceal its disposition to laugh, turned again quickly towards us, passed
his hand twice across his forehead, and finished with:
"Yes, I repeat it, we are glad to see you; you are welcome among us,
and--I say to you only that!"
There was a general burst of laughter. But my father pitied the young
man's embarrassment. He mounted the platform, shook his hand, and thanked
him, as well as all the people of St. Martinville, for his gracious
welcome and their warm hospitality. Then, to our great joy, the ball
opened.
It began with a minuet danced by twelve couples at once, six on each side.
The minuet in vogue just then was well danced by but few persons. It had
been brought to St. Martinville by émigrés who had danced it at the
French court ... But, thanks to the lessons given us by Alix, we had the
pleasure to surprise them.
Now I ought to tell you, my daughter, that these male costumes, so
effeminate, extravagant, and costly, had met great opposition from part of
the people of St. Martin parish. They had been brought in by the French
émigrés, and many had adopted them, while others had openly revolted
against them. A league had been formed against them. Among its members
were the Chevalier de Blanc, the elder of the d'Arbys, the Chevalier de la
Houssaye, brother of the count, Paul Briant, Adrian Dumartrait, young
Morse, and many others. They had thrown off entirely the fashionable dress
and had replaced it with an attire much like what men wear now. It was
rumored that the pretty Tonton favored the reform of which her brother was
one of the chiefs.
Just as the minuet was being finished a loud murmur ran through the hall.
All eyes were turned to the door and some couples confused their steps in
the dance. Tonton had come. She was received with a cry of surprise; not
for her beauty, not for her exquisite toilet, but because of him who
entered with her.
"Great God!" exclaimed Celeste du Clozel, "it is Tréville de Saint
Julien!"--"Oh!" cried Madame de la Houssaye, "Tonton is a fool, an
arch-fool. Does she want to see bloodshed this evening?"--"The Countess
Madelaine is going to faint!" derisively whispered Olivier in my ear.
"Who," asked Suzanne, "is Tréville de Saint Julien?"
"He is 'the hermit of Bayou Tortue,'" responded the gentle Celeste de
Blanc.
"What pretense of simplicity, look you!" said Charles du Clozel, glancing
towards him disdainfully.
"But look at Madame du Rocher," cried a girl standing on a bench, "how she
is dressed. What contempt of fashion and propriety! It is positively
shameful."
And Tonton, indifferent to these remarks, which she heard and to which she
was accustomed, and to the furious glances thrown upon her cavalier by
Neville Déclouet, continued, with her arm in his, to chat and laugh with
him as they walked slowly around the hall.
If I describe to you, my daughter, the toilets of Tonton and of Tréville
de Saint Julien, I write it for you alone, dear child, and it seems to me
it would be a theft against you if I did not. But this is the last time I
shall stop to describe petticoats, gowns, and knee-breeches. Tréville was
twenty-five; large, dark, of a manly, somber beauty. A great unhappiness
had overtaken him in childhood and left a permanent trace on his forehead.
He wore his hair slightly long, falling behind without queue or powder. In
1795 only soldiers retained their beard. Tréville de Saint Julien, despite
the fashion, kept the fine black mustache on his proud lip. His shirt,
without a frill, was fastened with three gold buttons. His broad-skirted
coat, long vest, and breeches were of black woolen stuff. His black
stockings were also of wool. His garters and shoes were without buckles.
But serving him as a garter, and forming a rosette on the front of the
leg, he wore a ribbon of plaided rose and black.
And Tonton. Over a dress--a real dress, such as we have nowadays--of rose
satin, with long-pointed waist, was draped another, of black lace. The
folds, running entirely around the skirt, were caught up by roses
surrounded by their buds and leaves. The same drapery was repeated on the
waist, and in front and on the shoulders re-appeared the roses. The
sleeves were very short, and the arms bare and without gloves. It was
simple, but prettier than you can think. Her hair was in two wide braids,
without powder, forming a heart and falling low upon the neck. Among these
tresses she had placed a rose like those on the skirt. For ornaments she
had only a necklace and bracelets of jet to heighten the fresh whiteness
of her complexion.
They had said Tonton would die of jealousy at our rich toilets. Nothing of
the sort. She came to us with her habitual grace, kissed us, ignoring
etiquette and the big eyes made by the Countess Madelaine. Without an
allusion to our dress or seeming to see it, she sat down between us, told
us persons' names, pointed out the beauty of this one, the pretty dress of
that one, always admiring, never criticising. She knew well she was
without a rival.
I amused myself watching Tréville and Neville out of the corner of my
eyes. Tréville seemed to see but one woman in the room. He danced several
times, always with her, and when he did not dance he went aside, spoke
with no one, but followed with his glances her whom he seemed to adore. He
made no attempt to hide his adoration; it shone from his eyes: his every
movement was full of it. When she returned to her place, he came, remained
before her chair, leaned towards her, listened with ravished ear, and
rarely sat down by her side. It was good to watch Neville. His eyes
flashed with anger, his fists fidgeted, and more than once I saw him quit
the hall, no doubt to make a quarrel with his rival. Not once did he come
near Tonton! Not once did he dance with her! But he danced with all the
young girls in the room and pretended to be very gay. While I was dancing
with him I said:
"How pretty Tonton is this evening!" And I understood the spite that made
him reply:
"Ah! mademoiselle, her beauty is certainly not to be compared with yours."
After the supper, which was magnificent, the bolero was danced. Twelve
couples were engaged, continually changing partners. Tonton danced with
Tréville, Suzanne with Olivier, and I with Neville.
Alas, alas! all things earthly have an end, and at two in the morning the
ball was over. When we reached our chamber I saw that my sister had
something to tell me.
"Ah!" said she, "have patience. I will tell you after we get into bed."
[What she told was the still famous Saint Julien feud. Tréville and
Neville were representatives of the two sides in that, one of the darkest
vendettas known in the traditions of Louisiana. The omission of this
episode in the present translation is the only liberty taken with the
original that probably calls for an apology.]
FOOTNOTES:
[21] Number of millions not stated.--TRANSLATOR.