Despite the turmoil of the secession in the January of 1861, nothing was going to stop New Orleans from teasing every last spring of frolic and fun from Mardi Gras, the Fat Tuesday of 18 February.
Oxy, glad to be back from the bayous and levees and to see his Kizzie again, reckoned that ‘It might be the last time we’ll be kicking our heels up for a while – unless in a shroud.’
And Mardi Gras was a riot of high-kicking heels and tapping toes. Sound and colour merged into one kaleidoscope of merry-making and feasting. For Ash Wednesday, the day following Fat Tuesday, signalled the start of the Lenten season of fasting, abstinence, sackcloth and ashes. And no dancing.
As they lay together for the first time into the ash-streaked dawn, Oxy Moran stroked his Kizzie’s honeyed skin.
She whispered something to him, raised her face above his.
And then gave him her fondest kisses.