DEAR M.,--In my last letter I told you of our invitation to the _bal
poudré_ and _masqué_ here. Count Ceballos, thinking it would amuse us to
see it, arranged that we should stay at the palace, where the ball was to
take place.
The Captain of the Port, with his aide-de-camp, accompanied us on our
trip, and as he was going there in some official capacity, we shared his
honors.
We had no adventures except that of traveling in company with a rather
rough-looking set of men, who were on their way to a cock-fight. The cocks
were tied up in bags; but as I wanted to see one the man opened the bag
and took it out, and also showed me the spurs they strap on them when they
fight.
We arrived in Matanzas about six o'clock, to find the Mayor's carriage
waiting for us. We drove to the palace, and after dinner dressed for the
ball. We did not attempt anything in the way of mask or costume, as being
unknown and _unpowdered_ was a sufficient disguise.
The Captain of the Port knew every one there, and presented many of his
friends. We went out and stood on the balcony, looking at the sea of
upturned heads. It seemed as if every Matanzois who was not inside was
outside gazing at the windows, and listening to the band which was playing
in the square. The night was glorious with a full moon.
I think that I have described in a former letter the Cuban dance, the
languid tropical shuffle they call the _Habanera_. The music is so
monotonous, always the same over and over again, and only ceases when it
is convenient to the musicians.
The ladies had _cascarilla_ (a powder made of eggshells) an inch thick on
their faces. I doubt if the officers ever saw so much powder as they did
at this _bal poudré_.
There was a sit-down supper, consisting of sandwiches smelling strong of
bad butter, ham and chicken salads, _dulces_ of all sorts, but, alas!
no fruit. The dancing continued long after we had retired for the night.
The Marquis Aldamar invited us to a _déjeuner_ for the following day;
the _volantes_ were again "to the door," and we started off in grand
style and great spirits and drove to the top of the mountain, from which
we enjoyed a perfectly glorious view of the Yumiri Valley. The winding
river looked like a silver thread as it wound in and out through the
grassy meadows.
Our _déjeuner_ was of a more European character than any that we had
yet had in Cuba; the menu was in French--evidently the cook was also
French--and the servants looked imported. In fact, everything was in
very good style. The hostess was charming and musical, she sang some very
pretty Cuban songs, and after a while asked me if I were musical, and if I
would play something.
The Captain, in an undertone and in all "proudness," said, "Ask Madame to
sing." And she did so in a rather condescending manner.
I accepted and went timidly to the piano, and as I hesitated as to what I
should sing, she said, "Oh! just sing any little thing." With an amused
glance at Laura I sang Chopin's waltz, which is the most difficult thing I
sing, and the astonishment depicted on the countenance of my patronizing
hostess was highly diverting.
"I wonder if you are any relation of a Mrs. Moulton whom my cousin knew in
Paris," she said. "He was very intimate with a family of your name, and
often talked to me about a Mrs. Moulton who sang so beautifully."
"Can it be that I am the same person? I have lived in Paris. What was your
cousin's name?" I inquired.
"Jules Alphonso."
"What!" I cried. "Jules Alphonso your cousin? I have not seen him for
years. I used to know him so well. Where is he?"
"He lives here in Cuba," she answered.
"Where in Cuba?" I interrupted. "How extraordinary! How much I should like
to see him again!"
"And he, I am sure, would like to see you, he has so often talked about
you to me. I felt directly last night that I knew you; it must have been
intuition."
I think, Mama, you must remember Jules. He was like a second son in our
house, and was an intimate friend of my brother-in-law, and would have
liked to have been a brother-in-law himself if he had been accepted. We
all loved him. How strange to find him here! The last place in the world I
should have dreamed of! I am not sure that I ever knew that he was a
Cuban.
My new friend was wild with joy. "You are the one person that I have
wanted to know all my life, and, fancy, here you are!"
Was it not a curious coincidence to meet _here_, in this out-of-the-way
place, some one who knew all about me?
I repeated, "I must see Jules, and if he is anywhere near I shall
certainly try to find him." "Let us go together," she said. "I will drive
you there, and we will take him by surprise." Two _volantes_ were
immediately before the door, and the Marquise Aldamar, the Captain of the
Port, Laura, and I started for La Rosa, Jules's plantation. It was an
enchanting drive, though a long one, leading, as it did, through avenues
of royal palms, and it was quite six o'clock before we reached Jules's
house. I said to the Marquise Aldamar, "As Jules has no idea that I am in
this part of the world, let me go in alone and surprise him."
We drove up to the entrance of his pretty villa, and the others
accompanied me to the door of the salon with a finger on their lips, so
that the servant should not announce us. We saw Jules sitting at a table
reading. I entered softly and went behind him, and laying my hand on his
shoulder said, "Jules!"
He turned quickly about, and when he saw me he thought I was an apparition
or a dream. "What! What!" he cried, trembling with astonishment.
"It is I--Lillie Moulton," I said, quietly.
"You! you! No, it can't be possible!" And he took hold of my hands as if
to see if they were flesh and blood. "Where did you come from? How did you
get here? What brought you here?" followed in quick succession. The others
pushed aside the curtain and came in. Then followed explanations. I was
obliged to answer thousands of questions, and go into thousands of
details, concerning the family, Paris, the war, and so forth. He ordered
champagne, improvised a little supper for us, and did not seem to be able
to do enough to show his delight at seeing me. But the Captain of the Port
soon reminded us that it was time to be on our way back to Matanzas, as it
was a long drive, and I bade a tearful farewell to lonely Jules. Our
comet-like visit must have seemed to him like a vision, and he watched us,
with eyes full of tears, drive away out of his life. Poor Jules!