Six o'clock
They were tired eyes with which Odalie looked at the gay pageant at last , tired with watching throng after throng of maskers , of the unmasked , of peering into the cartsful of singing minstrels , into carriages of revellers , hoping for a glimpse of Pierre the devout . The allegorical carts rumbling by with their important red-clothed horses were beginning to lose charm , the disguises showed tawdry , even the gay-hued flags fluttered sadly to Odalie . Mardi Gras was a tiresome day , after all , she sighed , and Tante Louise agreed with her for once . Six o'clock had come , the hour when all masks must be removed . The long red rays of the setting sun glinted athwart the many-hued costumes of the revellers trooping unmasked homeward to rest for the night 's last mad frolic . Down Toulouse Street there came the merriest throng of all . Young men and women in dainty , fairy-like garb , dancers , and dresses of the picturesque Empire , a butterfly or two and a dame here and there with powdered hair and graces of olden time .