To Be Concluded Next Month.
The Veil Withdrawn.
Translated, By Permission, From The French Of Mme. Craven, Author Of “A Sister's Story,” “Fleurange,” Etc.
XXVI.
Among the amusements of the Carnival, there was one in which I was not in the least tempted to take part—that of the bal masqué, or, as it was called, the Festino di San Carlo. I ought to remark here, however, that it was with respect to this amusement, above all, Naples differed from Paris. There was no resemblance between the bals masqués at San Carlo and those given at the opera in Paris. No virtuous or even prudent woman, I imagine, would think of venturing to attend the latter; whereas at San Carlo it was not only common to find married women of rank, but even young ladies under their mothers' protection as at any other ball. They wore their masks awhile, amusing themselves, if they had the turn, with mystifying their friends; then, at a certain hour, several rooms having been formed by uniting a number of boxes, and illuminated, they all laid aside their masks, and the various coteries, in groups of ten, fifteen, or twenty persons, took supper together. I certainly do not pretend to deny (my story itself would forbid it) that the opportunity of profiting by this disguise, in order to pass the evening in a less inoffensive manner, was not made use of by more than one of the company. It could not be otherwise, perhaps, in a place where this kind of folly reigns, even in a mitigated form. I only wish to describe its general character at that time.
I had not, however, the least inclination to attend. The very thought of wearing a mask was repugnant to me, and to see anybody else with one on caused me a kind of fear. Besides, I never could understand what pleasure was to be found in a mystery of this kind, which always seemed childish and trivial, if not culpable and dangerous. I had neither the faculty of disguising my voice nor of making use of the jargon that constitutes the spirit of a bal masqué. I therefore flatly refused to join a party of twenty persons who were to attend the Festino on Jeudi-Gras, and, after participating for awhile in the amusements of the ball-room, were to take supper together.
Stella had neither my repugnance nor my incapacity. She knew how to play the part of another with grace and skill, and had been urged, as well as I, to join this merry party; but she denied herself the pleasure in order to attend a family supper with her aged relatives and their friends, and we decided with [pg 298] mutual accord that our amusement for the day should be confined to that which awaited us on my aunt's balcony on the Toledo.
The hour came at last, and found us under arms—that is to say, our faces protected by a kind of visor of wire netting, and all of us, except my aunt, dressed in such a way as not to fear the clouds of flour we were to face, as well as the missiles which, under the name of confetti, were fearful to encounter, and had nothing sweet about them but the name. Some carried their precaution so far as to prepare a costume de bataille expressly for the occasion. Of this number were Teresina and Mariuccia, who, at Lando's suggestion, had provided themselves with dresses of white cotton ornamented with bows of rose-colored ribbon, which enabled them to encounter the showers of missiles, and were so becoming that they looked like two of Watteau's shepherdesses. But my aunt disdained this mixture of elegance and economy. She did not give a thought to what was to take place in the street; her whole mind was absorbed in what was to occur in her drawing-room. Regardless of danger, she put on a dress of yellow silk of the brightest shade, and set off her chignon and false braids with a cap adorned with poppies and corn-flowers, above which was fastened a bow of red ribbon, which streamed like a flag from the summit of a tower. This display was intended to do honor to the visitors who merely came for their own convenience. For the most part, they only entered her house with an eye to her balcony: but in order to obtain access to it, they were obliged to pass through the drawing-room, where Donna Clelia herself was stationed to arrest the passers-by and exact a tribute of politeness no one could refuse, and which, brought to such close terms, every one liberally paid. Never had she, therefore, in a single day reaped a like harvest of new and distinguished acquaintances; never had she received at once so great a number of desirable invitations, for could they do otherwise than requite hospitality with hospitality? My aunt thus had at the beginning of the day one hour of happiness without alloy!
At length the battle began in earnest. To those who have taken part in such combats it is useless to describe the enthusiasm and madness which every one ends by manifesting; to those who have not had the experience it is equally useless to try to give an idea of it. It must be acknowledged, however, that the first volley of confetti is by no means very amusing to the recipient, and he is tempted to withdraw ill-humoredly from what seems at first mere rough, childish sport. Then he endeavors to defend himself by retaliating. By degrees the ardor of combat is awakened; he yields to it, he grows furious, and for hours sometimes he persists in returning volley for volley, unmindful of fatigue, and regardless of the blows he receives. One thing is hurled after another—hard confetti, fragile eggs, flour, sugar-plums, flowers, and immense bouquets.... If the ammunition fails, he throws out of the window whatever comes to hand. He would rather throw himself out than give up the contest!