Ye Game and Playe of Chesse: & Other Stories by Alice Dunbar Nelson

Author:Alice Dunbar Nelson [Nelson, Alice Dunbar]
Language: eng
Format: epub

The Bicycle Race

Jacqueline fluffed the ruffles of her white dress about her as she settled herself on the front step. It was July in New Orleans with all the possibilities of heat and mosquitoes that that means. With a wave of her small hand, she disturbed the cloud of mosquitoes settling about her head, and with another gesture, infinitely graceful, she put back a rebellious tress that strayed over her forehead.

Stephan Grandpré watched her approvingly, yet fearfully. He was very much in love, and as such, approved of her from the crown of her crisp curly head to the point of her small light shoes, but he feared, alas, as many lovers had feared before him, that all this daintiness was not for him. Therefore, his glances, far from being bold and openly expressing admiration, as was his wont, when dealing with the gentler ones, were furtive and appealing.

Jacqueline laughed at the cloud of mosquitoes over her head, and laughed again, as the children sung gravely, going round and round in slow time on the banquette:

“King William was King Jameses son—”

“Jacqueline,” began Stephan softly.

Jacqueline did not answer. She pretended not to hear, and tossed her head in time to the children’s song. Plainly, Stephan was not in her good favour.

“Jacqueline,” he whispered again, but this time she looked up and down the street impatiently.

“He say he come,” she murmured softly. Stephan glared at the banquette and pulled an incipient moustache fiercely.

“He? Who?” he demanded.

For answer, Jacqueline laughed again, showing her pretty white teeth like a kitten who plays with a ball.

“Jacqueline,” he began again, but this time there was firmness in his tone that made the little lady sit up and stare at him apprehensively.

“Yaas?” she said.

“Jacqueline, I been waitin’ for’ you’ answer too long, now. You been playin’ wid me, yaas. Now, I got to know what you inten’, moi!”

He played at his moustache nervously, and his voice lost its opening bravado in an appealing note.

Jacqueline looked at him, a new expression of seriousness crossing her face, but the next moment, she was all smiles and dimples again.

“Stephan,” she said tenderly, and at the unwonted tenderness in her voice, he turned to her eagerly, and hung with breathless interest on her next words.

“Stephan, do you know the big rase at the new byseekle trac’ tomorrow night?”

He uttered an ejaculation of disgust, and Jacqueline opened wide eyes of surprise at him.

“Victor, he say he take me,” she announced with a spreading of her ruffles, and a bridling of her head, “Eef I wan’ to go.”

Stephan growled again.

“Of co’se, Victor, he one gallant.”

There was no mistaking the tone of her voice; it was calm, dispassionate in its comparison, implied, not spoken, but how Stephan longed for Victor then!

“Dey say,” she fanned herself meditatively as she spoke, and made quick dives into the cloud of mosquitoes now and then with her disengaged hand, “Dey say, the new trac’, h’eet the fines’ in tout le monde. Mos’ ever’ body goin’ for’ to see the premier rase.

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