MATANZAS, CUBA.
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!