ir.

My vague aim, as I went, was to find the stone-basin, with its clear
depth and green lining: of that coolness and verdure I thought, with
the passionate thirst of unconscious fever. Amidst the glare, and
hurry, and throng, and noise, I still secretly and chiefly longed to
come on that circular mirror of crystal, and surprise the moon glassing
therein her pearly front.

I knew my route, yet it seemed as if I was hindered from pursuing it
direct: now a sight, and now a sound, called me aside, luring me down
this alley and down that. Already I saw the thick-planted trees which
framed this tremulous and rippled glass, when, choiring out of a glade
to the right, broke such a sound as I thought might be heard if Heaven
were to open--such a sound, perhaps, as _was_ heard above the plain of
Bethlehem, on the night of glad tidings.

The song, the sweet music, rose afar, but rushing swiftly on
fast-strengthening pinions--there swept through these shades so full a
storm of harmonies that, had no tree been near against which to lean, I
think I must have dropped. Voices were there, it seemed to me,
unnumbered; instruments varied and countless--bugle, horn, and trumpet
I knew. The effect was as a sea breaking into song with all its waves.

The swaying tide swept this way, and then it fell back, and I followed
its retreat. It led me towards a Byzantine building--a sort of kiosk
near the park's centre. Round about stood crowded thousands, gathered
to a grand concert in the open air. What I had heard was, I think, a
wild Jaeger chorus; the night, the space, the scene, and my own mood,
had but enhanced the sounds and their impression.

Here were assembled ladies, looking by this light most beautiful: some
of their dresses were gauzy, and some had the sheen of satin, the
flowers and the blond trembled, and the veils waved about their
decorated bonnets, as that host-like chorus, with its greatly-gathering
sound, sundered the air above them. Most of these ladies occupied the
little light park-chairs, and behind and beside them stood guardian
gentlemen. The outer ranks of the crowd were made up of citizens,
plebeians and police.

In this outer rank I took my place. I rather liked to find myself the
silent, unknown, consequently unaccosted neighbour of the short
petticoat and the sabot; and only the distant gazer at the silk robe,
the velvet mantle, and the plumed chapeau. Amidst so much life and joy,
too, it suited me to be alone