THE MOONLIGHT SOIRÉE
Margaret was reclining on a divan in her luxurious study, perusing a
letter. The room was redolent with the perfume of June roses, and the
warm rays of the afternoon sun, filtering through the stained glass
windows--now and then obscured by the swaying leaves and branches of
the trees--were flitting across her lovely form as if playing hide
and seek.
Suddenly the door burst open and Aurora, somewhat flushed, holding
in her hand a note, entered the room, exclaiming excitedly:
"Horrible! Margie, horrible! I do not know what to do! It will be
extremely h'embawassing aw, don't you know."
"What is it Aurora, is that Jewsky after you again?" [1] asked Margaret
with a rougish smile, glancing toward her chum.
"I do not think he is a 'Ebrew, my dear, his signature aw, is some
foreign sounding name. Carlos Do-Do-Do-Don Seville."
"Well, I don't care what he is. The dodo is an extinct bird you
know. He looks like a Jewsky anyway. The idea, pray what has he to
say?" questioned Margaret, contracting her eyebrows to a frown.
"He writes that he will grace aw, our moonlight reception with 'is
presence. Horrid, Margie, horrid! I hate him!"
"Fiddlesticks! Rats!" retorted Margaret. "It is up to us then. If he
bobs up tomorrow night at the show, there will be something doing. That
Dago is positively the limit. He is perfectly horrid. If I see him
ogling me once that night, I'll 'cut the chains of my tongue loose'
at him, the wretch!"
"Aw, really, how brave you are Margie!" replied Aurora, looking
admiringly at her classmate. "You will not desert me? By the way,"
went on Aurora, gradually recovering her composure, "I just met Norma
Southworth coming from the modiste with her graduation gown. It was
such a bonnie gown, aw, so lurid and so sweet, don't you know."
"I bet you hers won't cut any ice with my togs, when they arrive
tomorrow. Aurora, you and I will make a jim-dandy pair on graduation
day. I am curious, however, to get a glimpse of her dream of a gown,
but before we start, my dear, let us once more go over the details
of tomorrow night's event."
"It makes me somewhat nervous to think about it. I wish truly it was
all h'over, Margie."
"So do I, Aurora. I am afraid we'll make a beastly flunk at the show,
aren't you?"
"Bah Jove, it will be awfully dweddful, Margie, to make a failure,
after so many months of preparation. I hope we will come h'out all
right," said Aurora with thoughtful anxiety.
After they finished their examination of the program, both started
out to inspect Norma's gown, intending from thence to go to the final
rehearsal. While crossing the Grand Court of the Seminary they spied
Professor Cielo Allenson coming toward them on his motor-cycle.
"There comes the dear 'Old Guard'" said Aurora. "Isn't 'e a dear,
aw, isn't 'e sweet?"
"To be sure Aurora, I am head over heels in love with his lilacs;
aren't they elegant?" was the ready rejoinder of Margaret.
"Eh, what! aw, really, 'ow often must I caution you not to use such
h'expressions," said Aurora, reproachfully. "'E may 'ear you, Margie,
'e may 'ear you."
"There, ring off, sweet child, you better pick up your 'h's' and get
a gait on, or else we'll be late for practice," laughed Margaret.
"Oh, how do you do?" piped both girls.
The professor, slackening his pace, greeted them courteously: "I
presume you ladies are well prepared for the ordeal of tomorrow night?"
"Quite so, Professor; we are looking forward with extreme pleasure to
meeting our gallant adversaries under your charge," answered Margaret.
"H'in fact, we are now going to our final rehearsal," added Aurora.
"Well, I wish you success, ladies; I must be off myself, to give the
boys at the Academy my last instructions; so goodby."
"Good afternoon, Professor; goodby."
The June graduation day of 1960 at the Seminary was not far distant,
falling on the second week of the month. The recitations had been
discontinued and the only sessions that were held by the professors
were chiefly for purposes of review.
The students meanwhile beguiled their time by indulging in frequent
class receptions, which were given by the various grades and societies,
each vieing with others to excel all previous functions in originality,
splendor and novelty. That to be given by the senior class, to which
Aurora and Margaret belonged, was near at hand. Long before the date
agreed upon, the senior class had agreed to make it an out-of-door
affair eclipsing all previous efforts in brilliancy of conception
and prodigality of arrangements.
It was to be a "Soirée Artistique!" a Tableau Vivant
Extravaganza! followed by a moonlight dance and reception. Their guests
of honor were to be no less than embryo generals from the West Point
Military Academy! Truly it was a magnificent conception and it was
chiefly due to the indefatigable efforts of Aurora and Margaret that it
culminated in a stupendous success with the night of the open air Fête.
The spacious, velvety lawn was profusely and fittingly decorated. From
column to column festoons of June roses and evergreens crossed and
entwined in bewildering array. The colossal statue of Diana with her
hounds--the patron Saint of the Seminary--and the alternate gold and
silver peristyles leading to the wondrously designed parterre, were
enveloped in a mass of phosphorescent glow from the radium globules.
The statuettes and fountains were bejewelled by innumerable actinium
bulbs. Ensconced in the branches of the trees and bushes the electrical
nightingales gave forth their continuous warbles of subdued sweetness,
while from poles especially erected for the occasion electric globes
in kaleidoscopic hues diffused the ambient atmosphere with their
spirituelle glow. The moon, like an overseer, hung high in the canopy
of space, casting its silvery light over the radiant scene.
The graceful figures of the maidens in their fantastic winged costumes
of Celestial Amazons, and the grotesque forms of the boys, attired in
Indian outfits, glittering with beads and feathers--"chaperoned" by the
venerable Professor Cielo Allenson--each tribe in turn illustrating
their weird national customs, in war or peace, in mirth or sorrow,
filled the select spectators with throes of thrilling excitement. What
hitherto had seemed only ordinary, mundane surroundings was changed
into a realistic happy-hunting-ground or savage fairyland, a vision
of alternate celestial or barbaric splendor, the grandeur of which
is beyond the power of human ability to describe.
The secret of unparalleled excellence of the disguises of the boys was
due to the fact that at the end of the Freshmen year at the Military
Academy, when they were preparing for the celebration of their academic
year, the Sophomores had kidnapped the whole Freshmen Class, and by a
pre-arranged plan, experts having been hired, had tatooed them all over
their faces as Indians on the warpath, thus leaving a lasting souvenir
of class antagonism! Being disfigured for life, they had made the
best of their misfortune by appearing in the role of Indian warriors,
delighted that for once this misfortune had proven an advantage.
There was nothing to mar this auspicious occasion except that, near
its close, a trivial wordy demonstration took place between Professor
Cielo Allenson and an intruder named Carlos Don Seville.
Still, even the most pleasant and successful events have their
aftermath and this affair left several of them. When Aurora and
Margaret entered their rooms heaped with triumphant compliments for
their consummate skill in planning this grand farewell fête they were
sad, sad through an impulsive intuition.
Hardly had they crossed the threshold of their room when they fell
into each other's arms, sobbing bitterly from the bottom of their
hearts. Each instinctively knew why the other wept. The final class
reception had a deep significance to them, as it meant that graduation
day was near at hand. In the natural course of events each would now
go her way to a distant home. It meant separation!
Separation! It was impossible for them calmly to accept the full
significance of that word in their infatuation for each other. Some
time elapsed before either gained sufficient composure to speak. Each
attempt resulted in a collapse and a paroxysm of hysterical weeping.
Margaret, as if dazed with the frenzy of that strange passion, clung
to Aurora, exclaiming hysterically: "How can it be, Aurora? It cannot
be. It cannot be! Better death than separation!"
By the gentle, soothing words of Aurora, however, they gradually
recovered their composure, but were not fully pacified until that
very night they made a solemn compact, bound by an inviolable oath,
not to make any alliance with any suitor whatever and to remain united
to each other in souls until death should them part.
It was that night also that in the height of their fatuous ardor of
love Aurora wrote an impromptu poem of fealty, entitled "Wilt Thou
Remember Thy Vow?" It revealed the intensity of their emotions,
their utter subjugation and mutual abandonment of will and desire
each to the other and its dire revenge in the end, if their solemn
vow was betrayed.
Like the poem, the music which was composed by Margaret, was also an
inspiration. It interpreted the poem in a sad, sublimely pathetic
strain, yet at times in bold and threatening torrents of color and
passion. The very spirit of the words and the oath, that would be
their guiding star throughout their lives, surged through it. In all
respects it was a masterpiece of symphonic creation.