Выбрать главу

It was a sport touring car, with the top down, giving it a rakish air. Barbara stole furtive glances at Frank as he drove swiftly through the city. Each time a street light flashed by she had an opportunity to study his face for a moment.

She liked what she saw in these brief glimpses. It was a strong face, quiet, with a definite air of self-possession. He seemed younger than she had expected. She thought he could not be more than thirty. Clean-shaven. His profile was nice.

All she could see was his profile. He paid no heed to her at all. She was glad of that. For she wanted to adjust her thoughts before facing the necessity of making conversation.

Joe and Ethel talked and giggled incessantly in the rear seat. Barbara turned to ask Ethel a question once, but she turned back quickly with the words unspoken, a deep flush staining her cheeks. She had been unable to distinguish which was Ethel in the dark huddle.

She did not know her action had been observed until she heard a deep chuckle from the silent figure by her side.

“Don’t bother them,” Frank advised. “They’ve forgotten there’s anyone else in the world.”

“Oh.” Barbara looked at him quickly. He did not turn his head. “I... was just going to ask her a question,” she said lamely.

“You have your answer.” He jerked his head backward. “The answer to the eternal question.”

He drove onward without speaking further. They had left the crowded city behind them. The car roared blindly through the night, and Frank was an impersonal god who jested with destiny.

They had left the highway and turned left into a less-traveled way. A feeling of hopeful curiosity surged over Barbara. Was this why she had come to Mardi Gras?

The glimmer of water was ahead, dancing gayly in the revealing gleam of the headlights. The roar of the motor died, and Frank skillfully maneuvered the car to a halt beneath a spreading tree hung with gray moss. Lake Pontchartrain was on their right. Barbara leaned out toward the water eagerly, drawing in great breaths of the invigorating breeze.

A strong hand closed over hers. She did not turn her head. Frank’s voice was low: “I have an idea you’re very beautiful.”

Barbara’s heart was too full of the beauty of the night to make immediate reply. There was the sound of moving bodies behind them, and Ethel’s voice was queerly muffled:

“Where are we?”

“At the end of the line,” Frank said concisely. “All out that’re getting out.”

There was further unscrambling of limbs behind them. Whispered questions and answers. Barbara stared across the lake as she heard the back door open. Then Ethel touched her arm lightly.

“We’re going for a little walk,” she said. “Want to come along?”

“Thanks. I think I’ll just sit in the car... if... Frank doesn’t mind.” She smiled quickly at him... and was surprised to find his face so close to hers.

“Why walk?” he chuckled. Barbara turned her head to watch the couple as they moved down the shore together. Joe carried a folded robe over his arm... and they were very close together.

“They go in search of beauty.” Frank’s voice seemed to strike through her body. “And they will find it together. They have learned the secret.”

Barbara turned to him with parted lips. “Is that... the only way to find beauty?” she asked chokingly.

“For them... yes.” Frank’s eyes were startlingly black. Little points of light gleamed in their depths, reflected from the dancing lights upon the water.

“And... for us?” She was surprised when the words escaped her lips. They sounded cheaply flirtatious.

But Frank understood. “For us?” he mused. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “That is the surest receipt,” he admitted.

His arm slipped along the back of the seat and rested on Barbara’s shoulders comfortingly. “We shall see,” he murmured softly.

His hand reached up to touch her cheek, and she let herself be drawn to him. She closed her eyes, shutting out the night, his strangeness; shutting out from her mind all doubt.

Her lips were parted as he leaned down to kiss them. They remained parted, quiescently, unresponsive as he searched for an answer.

He drew his lips away slowly. “Perhaps not.” His voice was emotionless.

Barbara shuddered and let her head rest on his shoulder. It was a very comfortable shoulder, she reflected. She seemed to stand off and study this new Barbara who kissed strange men and found comfort on a man’s shoulder.

What had his kiss meant? He was the only man who had ever kissed her. Except Robert. And Robert’s kisses didn’t count. They were unlike this kiss. Yet she remained unmoved. She wanted to be moved. She wanted to know passion. And she had found peace instead.

She struggled to sit upright. His arm lay loosely on her shoulder, and his face was immobile.

“What’s it all about?” Barbara asked desperately.

“Ah.” Frank’s lips smiled. “All?” he questioned.

“You know about life,” Barbara said tensely. “I don’t know anything. Teach me... tell me.”

“Life?” Now Frank’s face and voice smiled. He shook his head. “I know nothing about life,” he protested.

“But Ethel said that you knew everything.”

“I know everything that Ethel needs to know. All she can understand,” he said simply.

“You mean... it’s not enough for me?” she asked sharply.

“I’m... afraid not.” His voice was moody and self-contained.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I thought you wanted me to.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Because I thought you wanted me to.”

“Do you always... do what girls want you to do?” Barbara asked breathlessly.

“That’s always my intention,” he told her evenly. “So long as the girl knows what she wants.”

“And if I don’t know what I want?” Barbara’s voice frightened her. It was almost shrill.

“Then... I might help you find out,” Frank admitted. “Upon invitation.”

“What has Ethel told you about me?” Barbara demanded.

“Almost nothing. Only that you were young and pretty, and were coming to see what makes a Mardi Gras tick... and wanted to have a good time in the bargain.”

“That’s all she told you?” Barbara persisted.

“That’s all. Except that she didn’t say how very young you were... nor how very beautiful.”

“Oh.” Barbara hesitated, searching for words. She was conscious of a mounting excitement. His calm infuriated her. She wanted to break through it... find the man which lay behind the cool exterior.

“I’m twenty-two,” she said slowly.

“Which is gloriously young.” His voice was grave.

“How old are you?” she flashed.

“It doesn’t matter.” He moved restlessly. “It happens that I’m thirty-five,” he said slowly.

“Suppose I told you that I’ve never been anywhere... never done anything? That I’ve lived like a half-dead thing all my life? That my mind and my body and my soul are virgin? What would you think?”

“I would never cease to envy some man the joy of awakening you,” he replied quietly.

“Suppose I told you that I broke my engagement with a boy I’ve thought I loved since childhood... just to come to Mardi Gras and learn to live?” she asked passionately. “What then?”

“Does the boy love you?”

“He thinks he does. He... he doesn’t know any more about love than I do.” Barbara’s voice was husky.

Frank did not answer her for a long time. He stared over her head unseeingly. He was more profoundly moved than he cared to admit.

“How do I come in?” he questioned slowly.

“You... you’re a part of Mardi Gras,” Barbara told him vibrantly. “Don’t you see? I have these two days that I’ve snatched from my life. I’ve given up everything I thought was solid and worth while for the sake of these two days. I don’t want to think I’ve traded my birthright for a mess of pottage. I’ve made a terrible mistake if Mardi Gras doesn’t give me back more than I’ve lost.”