But I drew myself up short, for I saw a smile playing in the corners of Ulrica's mouth.
"Let's be off," she said. "We'll take a fiacre to the station. Gerald, tell them to get us a cab."
And young Keppel went forth to do her bidding.
The Carnival bal masqué at the Casino—the great event of King Carnival's reign—took place on the following Sunday night, and we made up a gay party to go to it. There were seven of us, and we looked a grotesque group as we assembled in the vestibule of the "Grand," attired in our fantastic costumes and wearing those mysterious masks of black velvet which so effectively conceal the features. Ulrica represented a Watteau shepherdess, with wig and crook complete, while I was en bébé, wearing a simple costume, surmounted by a sun-bonnet with a very wide brim. One of the women of the party was a Queen of Folly, and another wore a striking Louis XV. dress; while Gerald represented a demon, and wore pins in his tail in order to prevent others from pulling that appendage.
As the distance from the hotel to the Casino was only a few hundred yards, we walked. Laughter was abundant, for the novelty of the thing was sublime. Among our party only Gerald had witnessed a previous Carnival ball, and he had led us to expect a scene of wild merriment.
Certainly we were not disappointed. Having run the gauntlet of a crowd who smothered us with confetti, we entered the great winter-garden of the Casino, and found it a blaze of colour—the two colours of Carnival. Suspended from the high glass roof were thousands of bannerettes of mauve and gold, while the costumes of the revellers were of the self-same shades. Everywhere flashed coloured lights of similar hue, and the fun was already fast and furious. The side-rooms, which, as most readers will remember, are ordinarily devoted to gambling—for gambling in a mild form is permitted at Nice—were now turned into handsome supper-rooms, and in the winter-garden and the theatre beyond the scene was perhaps one of the liveliest and most enchanting in the whole world.
Everyone had gone there for full enjoyment. In the theatre there was wild dancing; the boxes were filled by the grand monde of Europe, princes and princesses, grand-dukes and grand-duchesses, counts and countesses, noted actresses from Paris and London, and well-known people of every nationality, all enjoying the scene of uproarious merrymaking. We viewed it first from our own box, but at length someone suggested that we should descend and dance, an idea which at once found ungrudging favour.
Masked as everyone was, with the little piece of black lace tacked to the bottom of the black velvet loup, in order to conceal the lower part of the features, it was impossible to recognise a single person in that whirling crowd. Therefore, immediately we descended to the floor of the theatre we at once became separated. I stood for a few moments bewildered. The blaze of colour made one's head reel. People in all sorts of droll costumes were playing various kinds of childish antics. Out in the winter-garden clowns and devils were playing leap-frog, and sylphs and angels, joining hands, were whirling round and round in huge rings, playing some game and screaming with laughter. Almost everyone carried miniature representations of Punch, with bells attached, large rattles, or paper flowers which, when blown, could be elongated to a ridiculous extent.
Never before, in all my life, had I been amidst such a merry and irresponsible crowd. The ludicrousness of Carnival reaches its climax in the ball at the Casino, and whatever may be said of it, it is without doubt one of the annual sights of Europe. I had heard it denounced as a disgraceful exhibition by old ladies, who had been compelled to admit that they had never been present; but I must say that from first to last, although the fun was absolutely unbridled, I saw nothing whatever to offend.
I was standing aside watching the dancers, when suddenly a tall man, dressed in a remarkable costume representing an owl, approached, and bowing, said in rather good English, in a deep, but not unmusical voice: