There must always be an attraction in a great concourse of merrymaking people absolutely given over to enjoyment; and as I witnessed this mad festival for the first time, I allowed myself to enter into its riotous fun—anything to blot out the memory of the canker worm that had so long held possession in my heart.
Flowers were everywhere—people in all manner of vehicles, gayly decorated, pelted the pedestrians, and were themselves overwhelmed with an avalanche of roses.
Mischievous damsels, lurking in every conceivable balcony or second-story window took great delight in dropping handfuls of rice upon those who passed beneath. Merry laughter sounded on all sides, and it was hard for me to imagine that this gay city was really Bolivar, the mysterious capital, queen of the romantic Gulf, where half the dark conspiracies that startled the Spanish-American republics were hatched; home of revolutionists exiled for the time being from their native shores, and as wicked a place for its size in all probability as might be found upon the entire terrestrial ball.
And when night came the fun waxed more furious than ever—there is always an inspiration about the gloaming to these citizens of semi-tropical marts—the heat of the day gives place to a delicious, cool air that steals in mayhap over the sparkling blue waters of a glorious bay, bringing the odor of sweet incense as of fragment spices—sounds lose their harsh clang and become strangely mellowed; wonderful fireflies flash their electric lanterns abroad, music steals upon the senses from over many a garden wall, where languorous swains thrum upon mandolin or guitar and sing sentimental serenades to dark-eyed maidens.
All these and more greeted eye and ear in the gay capital when the day of frolic was spent, and night drew her dark mantle about the scene.
I wondered at myself for not having long since wearied of the racket, and taken my last look—some unusual nervous tension appeared to have possession of me, and I could not shake it off; looking back, with the knowledge gained by experience, I am fain to believe it must have been a mysterious case of “coming events casting their shadow before.”
At any rate, I continued to roam aimlessly about the streets where the crowds gathered most densely, where the colored lanterns hung in bewildering profusion, and the fun waxed furious. I even laughed heartily at some ridiculous exhibition on the part of young students dressed in wonderful costumes—the whole town had given itself up to mad enjoyment for the time being, and why should not I forget?
To-morrow would be time enough to remember.
Such an impression did the tinkling music, the merry songs, the laughter and cries of the crowd make upon me that it would long haunt my memory as one of the few nights when the miserable past could be utterly forgotten.
And yet I had never been so near the phantom as during those hours.