IX.
AND the multicolored clamoring stream rushes by,—swerves off at
last through the Rue des Ursulines to
the Savane,—rolls over the
new bridge of the Roxelane to the ancient quarter of the Fort.
All of a sudden there is a hush, a halt;—the drums stop
beating, the songs cease. Then I see a sudden scattering of
goblins and demons and devilesses in all directions: they run
into houses, up alleys,—hide behind door-ways. And the crowd
parts; and straight through it, walking very quickly, comes a
priest in his vestments, preceded by an acolyte who rings a
little bell. C'est Bon-Dié ka passé! ("It is the Good-God who goes
by!") The father is bearing the "viaticum" to some victim of the
pestilence: one must not appear masked as a devil or a deviless
in the presence of the Bon-Die.
He goes by. The flood of maskers recloses behind the ominous passage;
—the drums boom again; the dance recommences; and all the fantastic
mummery ebbs swiftly out of sight.
