the Spanish, the Germans, the Irish, the Americans. People who would normally not even speak to each other rubbed elbows here and haggled over prices.
Drawn to the booth where fresh, hot beignets were being served, Madeleine bought one for herself and one for Avalina. Rolling her eyes with pleasure, she quickly devoured the delicious diamond-shaped doughnut that was generously dusted with sweet powdered sugar.
Madeleine was having such a good time she hated to leave. But they had been out in the sultry summer heat now for well over an hour and she was beginning to feel flushed and faint. So, with their many treasures in a big basket over Avalina’s arm, the two started home.
They had gone but one short block when a trio of unkempt ruffians suddenly stepped into their path and began making crude, suggestive remarks to Lady Madeleine. One, a big, ugly brute moved in so close Madeleine could smell the strong offensive odor of stale sweat and unwashed flesh.
Horrified, her heart beating in her throat, she said with as much authority as she could muster, “You get away from me! Step out of my way or I’ll…”
“Or you’ll what, my pretty,” mocked the monster, “have a case of the vapors and fall into my arms?”
While Avalina cursed the men in gumbo French, Madeleine looked anxiously about for help.
Help appeared in the form of the six-foot-six giant who Madeleine recognized as the strong man from Le Circus de Paris. Big Montro stepped out of an alley and onto the banquette. Without lifting so much as a finger, the giant, his arms crossed over his massive chest, planted himself squarely in front of the frightened women, sending their tormentors scurrying for cover.
Once the ruffians had gone, he turned, smiled at the grateful ladies and said in a deep, surprisingly soft voice, “I am Montro. I will escort you to your home.”
They both nodded, still badly shaken and more appreciative than he would ever know.
The very next morning when Lady Madeleine and Avalina again ventured out, Big Montro was there below on the cobblestone banquette, waiting for them.
“Montro,” Madeleine exclaimed when she reached him, “I thought the circus was leaving New Orleans today.”
“It is,” he said without emotion, “I am staying here.”
“I see,” she replied. “Well, Avalina and I are going to meet with a dressmaker over on Toulesse and…”
“I will see you safely there,” he said and did.
From that morning on the gentle giant accompanied the two women wherever they went. Very soon, without any formal arrangements, Big Montro became Lady Madeleine’s faithful bodyguard.
Madeleine was somewhat surprised that her uncle offered no protests to including Big Montro in his household. It was Colfax who suggested that Montro move into the vacant garçonnière across the courtyard at the back edge of the property. And, he agreed to pay him a generous monthly salary, much more than he’d made with the circus.
The truth was that Colfax Sumner was quietly relieved that the strong man would be watching over them. Colfax would never have mentioned it to Madeleine or Avalina or anyone else, but he had felt increasingly threatened of late. Plagued with a nagging sense of foreboding that he couldn’t seem to shake.
It was as if some unseen danger lurked in the shadowy streets directly below the mansion’s iron lace galleries.
Nine
On a blistering-hot day in September, a tall, dark man stood on the wooden wharf in Havana, Cuba.
Armand de Chevalier patiently waited his turn to board the cargo ship that would take him to New Orleans. Armand was smiling, as usual. He knew how lucky he was to be alive. Plucked from the sea by a small trader bound for Cuba late that fateful August afternoon, he hadn’t complained when he learned it was headed for Havana.
“Sounds good to me,” he had said with a laugh, after having spent hours bobbing in the water under a burning summer sun.
Now, after three long weeks of rest and boredom in Havana, Armand was as robust as ever and more than ready to go home.
“Señor,” said one of the crewman, motioning him forward.
Armand nodded and climbed the gangway, whistling merrily.
The days were the drowsy ones of late summer. The weather in New Orleans stayed hot and muggy throughout the month of September. The hot mist off the bayous seemed to scald the skin.
Along with the humid heat was the constant irritant of the buzzing, biting mosquitoes. The residents of the low-lying river city didn’t dare try sleeping without a mosquito baire protecting them.
The mosquitoes had been worse than usual this summer, but Colfax Sumner told his niece it was a good thing, really. There had been very few cases of yellow fever this year, thanks to the mosquitoes. He was convinced that the swarms of mosquitoes purified the miasmic swamp airs that caused the deadly disease.
“You actually believe that?” Madeleine asked, skeptical, as the two of them sat together in the shaded courtyard on a sweltering September afternoon.
“Indeed. If the fever had been rampant this year as it was in ’53, I would never have allowed you to come near New Orleans. Or, if you had come, you’d have had to stay upriver at the plantation or else have shut yourself up inside this house and never have gone outdoors. You wouldn’t have liked that.”
“Heavens, no. I do so enjoy going out.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, Colfax mused, “I recall that the mosquito population was so sparse in ’53 one could sleep without the baire enclosing the bed. But bronze john swept through this city all summer and took countless lives. Barrels of burning tar constantly blackened the skies and burned our eyes and choked us. The cathedral bell tolled each time another poor soul died and it seemed that the terrible tolling never stopped. Night and day it pealed.”
“You were in no danger since you had the fever all those years ago?”
“That’s true. I’ve been immune ever since…since the summer of…” He shook his head sadly, fell silent, and his eyes clouded.
Madeleine knew he was looking back into the past, to that dreadful summer of 1816 and the sad events that had changed his life forever. He had been a young man who was to be married to a beautiful Creole belle. The two had been madly in love, but a yellow fever epidemic had ended their dreams. Both contracted the fever, but Colfax survived. His beloved had not. Twenty-four hours before they were to be married, she died in his arms and was buried in her white wedding gown.
As if there had been no lapse in the conversation, Colfax said, “Yes, thankfully, I am immune. That’s why I didn’t flee upriver to the safety of the plantation with Avalina in ’53. Many of the sick were good friends and they needed me. I did what I could for them, but in many cases it wasn’t enough.”
“I know you did,” Madeleine said and affectionately patted his arm. Quickly changing the subject, she said, “Desmond is coming for dinner and afterward we are going to the theater. Why don’t you come with us?”
“Some
