XIII.
February 23d.
A COFFIN passes, balanced on the heads of black men. It holds the
body of Pascaline Z—, covered with quick-lime.
She was the prettiest, assuredly, among the pretty shopgirls
of the Grande Rue,—a rare type of
sang-mêlée. So oddly
pleasing, the young face, that once seen, you could never again
dissociate the recollection of it from the memory of the street.
But one who saw it last night before they poured quick-lime upon
it could discern no features,—only a dark brown mass, like a
fungus, too frightful to think about.
… And they are all going thus, the beautiful women of color.
In the opinion of physicians, the whole generation is doomed. …
Yet a curious fact is that the young children of octoroons are
suffering least: these women have their children vaccinated,—
though they will not be vaccinated themselves. I see many
brightly colored children, too, recovering from the disorder: the
skin is not pitted, like that of the darker classes; and the
rose-colored patches finally disappear altogether, leaving no
trace.
… Here the sick are wrapped in banana leaves, after having been
smeared with a certain unguent. … There is an immense demand
for banana leaves. In ordinary times these leaves—especially
the younger ones, still unrolled, and tender and soft beyond any
fabric possible for man to make—are used for poultices of all
kinds, and sell from one to two sous each, according to size and
quality.
