was led by a cadre of horns and woodwinds, all in the hands of old and middle-aged men, most of them African-American, dressed in sherbet-colored satin suits with derby hats to match, dancing and jiving as they progressed along Bourbon.
Behind them came the face of a dragon. It looked fierce and proud, painted in rainbows of color but predominantly the purple, green, and gold of Mardi Gras, and sparkling with rows and swirls of lights that blinked and rolled in rhythm, making the dragon look as if he was dancing to the music. Above the face, the king and queen of Rex, resplendent in white satin and masked in feathers, waved to the crowd from the lofty perch of their float; their court, also gorgeously dressed and arrayed around them also waved. The King of Rex and his consort had been chosen from among their krewe as the supreme embodiment of justice and authority. Their very stance showed how much they enjoyed their position of honor. Pride drank in their self-esteem and fed it back to them in waves.
Live for it, he told them. Bask in it. You deserve every moment of it. You are better than all of those who worship you. The king’s back straightened, and the queen’s long, slender neck seemed to lengthen further. Good, Pride thought. That’ll hold you through the day. He saw them on their way, glowing with ego. His talent worked best on those most receptive to it. Envy couldn’t touch them. They were real royalty for this day.
Lust had chosen the same couple as a focus. His hot red energy surrounded and suffused the court. A few of the princesses shifted uncomfortably on their flower-strewn benches. The king and queen eyed one another from behind their masks, their glances promising a dynastically good time later on. Pride grinned.
Greed hopped up and down on her narrow spike heels, beckoning the court to throw beads to her. She and those around her she had charmed were already festooned with enough sparkling throws to break their backs, but they must have more, armloads more. She worked her wiles upon the crowd, until they were shrieking in expectation at the riders on the float, demanding necklaces and doubloons. Pride watched with caution. Another of Envy’s contests was to see how many humans they could take away from one another. Pride found it counterproductive and seldom participated in it. Sloth, flabby and proud of it, could rarely be bothered to fight for mortals. He lounged on a second-floor balcony with a host of onlookers who were just enjoying the view. Pride couldn’t sense Anger anywhere. Mardi Gras was frequently a disappointment to his red-eyed friend, with so many people getting into the spirit of good times. He was pleased to see that the Rex court was unaffected by Greed. Regally, they tossed rope after shining rope of beads and handfuls of gold coins to her minions, enjoying the pleasure they spread.
The Rex parade ended and was succeeded by Zulu, then Orpheus, Bacchus, Saturn, and a dozen other krewes, all filling Bourbon Street with music and glitter. Pride found willing followers in each one. He was pleased and satisfied with himself. The crowd swelled larger and larger until when the music of the last jazz band faded away, it filled the twilit streets. Gluttony and Lust took over, sending the multitude in search of other forms of satisfaction. Gluttony had found turtle soup and crawfish étouffée somewhere, because the rich, heady aromas filled the air. Greed was for the moment sated, lost under a shining cloak of beads. Sloth lolled on his balcony, waves of laziness rolling out from him.
At nightfall, Pride left them to their pleasures. Wearing an impeccable evening suit and a purple mask he had picked up in sixteenth century Venice, he slipped into the first of the elegant balls, at the Art Museum. Exclusivity drew him. The people who were privileged to pass through the doors, past the hoi polloi , were already prideful. He fed their egos, giving them a sense that they were more worthy,
Behind them came the face of a dragon. It looked fierce and proud, painted in rainbows of color but predominantly the purple, green, and gold of Mardi Gras, and sparkling with rows and swirls of lights that blinked and rolled in rhythm, making the dragon look as if he was dancing to the music. Above the face, the king and queen of Rex, resplendent in white satin and masked in feathers, waved to the crowd from the lofty perch of their float; their court, also gorgeously dressed and arrayed around them also waved. The King of Rex and his consort had been chosen from among their krewe as the supreme embodiment of justice and authority. Their very stance showed how much they enjoyed their position of honor. Pride drank in their self-esteem and fed it back to them in waves.
Live for it, he told them. Bask in it. You deserve every moment of it. You are better than all of those who worship you. The king’s back straightened, and the queen’s long, slender neck seemed to lengthen further. Good, Pride thought. That’ll hold you through the day. He saw them on their way, glowing with ego. His talent worked best on those most receptive to it. Envy couldn’t touch them. They were real royalty for this day.
Lust had chosen the same couple as a focus. His hot red energy surrounded and suffused the court. A few of the princesses shifted uncomfortably on their flower-strewn benches. The king and queen eyed one another from behind their masks, their glances promising a dynastically good time later on. Pride grinned.
Greed hopped up and down on her narrow spike heels, beckoning the court to throw beads to her. She and those around her she had charmed were already festooned with enough sparkling throws to break their backs, but they must have more, armloads more. She worked her wiles upon the crowd, until they were shrieking in expectation at the riders on the float, demanding necklaces and doubloons. Pride watched with caution. Another of Envy’s contests was to see how many humans they could take away from one another. Pride found it counterproductive and seldom participated in it. Sloth, flabby and proud of it, could rarely be bothered to fight for mortals. He lounged on a second-floor balcony with a host of onlookers who were just enjoying the view. Pride couldn’t sense Anger anywhere. Mardi Gras was frequently a disappointment to his red-eyed friend, with so many people getting into the spirit of good times. He was pleased to see that the Rex court was unaffected by Greed. Regally, they tossed rope after shining rope of beads and handfuls of gold coins to her minions, enjoying the pleasure they spread.
The Rex parade ended and was succeeded by Zulu, then Orpheus, Bacchus, Saturn, and a dozen other krewes, all filling Bourbon Street with music and glitter. Pride found willing followers in each one. He was pleased and satisfied with himself. The crowd swelled larger and larger until when the music of the last jazz band faded away, it filled the twilit streets. Gluttony and Lust took over, sending the multitude in search of other forms of satisfaction. Gluttony had found turtle soup and crawfish étouffée somewhere, because the rich, heady aromas filled the air. Greed was for the moment sated, lost under a shining cloak of beads. Sloth lolled on his balcony, waves of laziness rolling out from him.
At nightfall, Pride left them to their pleasures. Wearing an impeccable evening suit and a purple mask he had picked up in sixteenth century Venice, he slipped into the first of the elegant balls, at the Art Museum. Exclusivity drew him. The people who were privileged to pass through the doors, past the hoi polloi , were already prideful. He fed their egos, giving them a sense that they were more worthy,
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