The Romance of a Mother of Pearl Card Case

THE ROMANCE OF A MOTHER OF PEARL CARD CASE.

 In 1873, Laura Keene, of New Orleans, at age of 16, was graduated from Sylvester Larned Academy for Young Ladies, with the highest honors of her Class.  She spoke English and French fluently, played the piano brilliantly, was an expert needlewoman, had an 18 Inch waist, and wore a No.2 shoe, so was fitted for whatever life might offer. Her father, who was Napoleon Bonaparte Keene, a cotton broker, who owned a seat on the stock exchange, promised her a magnificent debut party that would far surpass the entertainments that had presented her 4 older sisters to society. But alas before he could fulfill his promise, he became very ill, and died suddenly. His seat on the Stock Exchange sold for $2O,OOO.OO which was all the widow had to support 6 unmarried daughters and one son. However she was fortunate in lending it to her son-in-law, Gustave Bock von Louten, who paid her 12% interest on it for 30 years.

 Gus Bock owned a tobacco factory in Havana, Cuba and supplied Havana Cigars to the Crowned Heads of Europe, each cigar being wrapped in real gold foil, imprinted with an eagle, the King of Birds. He was a tall, handsome blonde, with an infant daughter, Belisa, whose mother, a Spanish lady, Isabel Macias, had died in giving her birth. Gus Bock was born in Lodstinn, Germany, and was attracted to his second wife,Lydia Keene because she was a talented linguist, and spoke 7 languages fluently, which reminded him of his homeland in Europe. He and Lydia now invited Laura Keene to visit them in Havana, Cuba, and a glamourous visit she had!

 It was customary for the young gallants to send their lovely ladies bouquets of flowers, with lottery tickets wrapped around the stems. Also the custom to go up on the flat roofs of the residences to hear the winning numbers announced. One man always bought the same number each year believing that some year it would win. But his friends persuaded him that to buy a different number each year would be more likely to win. The first year that he changed numbers, his former number won the Grand Prize and he lost his mind brooding over it.

 A Grand Ball was planned with elaborate preparations and much excitement and then Laura Keene became ill, it was feared with the dreaded yellow fever! The remedy was to drink a cupful of castor oil! With visions of the Grand Ball she consented, The cupful of castor oil was warmed,  oranges were ready to take away the after taste, and she took the terrible dose and recovered. On the date chosen for the Grand Ball an equinoctial storm, with high winds, flooded the streets with water to a depth of several feet so that the carriages could not traverse them. The old and prudent adults said it would be impossible for guests to ride to the Ball! But Laura Keene said she knew the "vetter” would get her there. (Pronounced “fetter’, means cousin, and was a relative of Mr. Gus Bock.)  He had been most devoted of all her suitors and very ardent In his attentions. And because nothing is impossible to a lover, he really did! The vetter obtained a sedan chair from no one knew where, borrowed 4 pairs of hip boots from the firemen, requisitioned 3 other adventurous youths to assist him, and with the poles on their shoulders and the boots on their feet, the chivalrous quartette bore the sedan chair with Laura Keene inside to the Grand Ball, walking through the flooded streets with their precious burden! After depositing her they made their toilets, drying and dressing, and were ready to dance, and never was there such a wonderful Ball!  While waltzing to the strains of “The Blue Danube" the vetter whispered to Laura Keene that all the girls in Germany had hair as yellow as straw and as straight, and all his life he had dreamed of a girl, whose hair would be black as satin, and curl in tendrils, and whose eyes would shine and sparkle like black diamonds, and now he had found the woman of his dreams! And Laura Keene, being just 2 years older than Romeo' Juliet, listened and believed that the vetter was the soul of truth and was happy because her ideal of a man and a lover was always a tall blonde.

 The next day Mr. Bock requested an interview with Laura Keene and sternly announced without preamble, "Laura, this chivalry of the vetter in carrying you on the shoulders of himself and his friends to the Ball is the talk of Havana! I had no idea that romance had developed between you! You must know that he is engaged to a most estimable young lady in Germany. ‘Tis true she is stout and plain but well trained in keeping a house, rich and a relative, will make him a faithful wife, and it is a most suitable match approved by his family who arranged it. I will not wait for him to make his fortune, but am sending him to Germany at once, at my expense, so that the marriage can be consummated immediately. I feel responsible in this matter that nothing must interfere because her father is financing my factory and if he withdraws his support, I am ruined. You will return to your mother in New Orleans at once. One other thing I could only persuade him to sail this morning, which he has done, by promising to deliver this parting gift to you”, and he handed her a small package.

Laura said, ”Mr. Bock, I, too, will sail today, back to my mother in New Orleans! I do not wish to stay in the house of a man who can be as cruel as you! I did not know the vetter was bound to another! You should have told me!

 The package contained an exquisitely lovely case for carrying a lady's calling cards.  It was of mother of pearl tinted like the lining of a sea shell in delicate pink with a mosaic pattern as green and as lovely as moss.  Inside Laura found a card on which was written, "A token of the happiest night I will ever have in my life! I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor morel"

 The music of The Blue Danube still bewitches other dancing lovers, the mother of pearl card case is treasured by another girl, the taIl, blonde vetter and the black eyed girl have long since turned to dust, and their love for each other bloomed briefly and then died like the rose that she wore in her black hair, to the Grand Ball.

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Aunt Alice Gleaves has had a severe attack of laryngitis and asked me to write this romance of her heirloom for her.  I was so glad to be able to do something for her.