That waltz has lain ever since
forgotten in his brain, but now he hears it all; never before was he
able to remember that _coda_, and it comes with a scent of
violets in it--the perfume of a little blond woman who dreams as she
dances with the young man blond as herself. Let it be that the choice
was made by her rather than by him, and let her wear _crepe de
chime_, with perhaps a touch of white somewhere, and a white frill
about her neck. Let her be a widow whose husband died six months after
marriage, six months ago. Let her have come from some distant part of
the world, from America--Baltimore will do as well as any other,
perhaps better, for the dreamer by the fire has no faintest notion
whether Baltimore lies in the middle of a plain or surrounded by
mountains, whether it be built of marble or brick or stone. Let her
come from Baltimore, from some prettily named street--Cathedral
Street--there must be a Cathedral Street in Baltimore. The sound of
the church bells in the air no doubt led the dreamer to choose
Cathedral Street for her to live in.... The dance would have to be an
informal one, some little dance that she might come to though her
husband was dead only six months. Coming from America, she would be
dancing the sliding Boston step, and the two together would pass
between the different groups sliding forward and back, avoiding the
dancer here, and reappearing from behind a group of French men and
women bumping up and down, hammering the floor, the men holding the
women as if they were guitars.
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