m, crying and laughing, quarrelling and
kissing. Sometimes a mother darted forward and caught her child from the
brink of the basin; another taught hers to walk, holding it tightly up
behind by its short skirts; another publicly nursed her baby to sleep.

While they still dreamed, but never thought, of going to Europe, the
Marches often said how European all this was; if these women had brought
their knitting or sewing it would have been quite European; but as soon
as they had decided to go, it all began to seem poignantly American.
In like manner, before the conditions of their exile changed, and they
still pined for the Old World, they contrived a very agreeable illusion
of it by dining now and then at an Austrian restaurant in Union Square;
but later when they began to be homesick for the American scenes they
had not yet left, they had a keener retrospective joy in the strictly
New York sunset they were bowed out into.

The sunsets were uncommonly characteristic that May in Union Square.
They were the color of the red stripes in the American flag, and when
they were seen through the delirious architecture of the Broadway side,
or down the perspective of the cross-streets, where the elevated trains
silhouetted themselves against their pink, they imparted a feeling
of pervasive Americanism in which all impression of alien savors and
civilities was lost. One evening a fire flamed up in Hoboken, and
burned for hours against the west, in the lurid crimson tones of a
conflagration as memorably and appealingly native as the colors of the
sunset.

The weather for nearly the whole month was of a mood familiar enough in
our early summer, and it was this which gave the sunsets their vitreous
pink. A thrilling coolness followed a first blaze of heat, and in the
long respite the thoughts almost went back to winter flannels. But at
last a hot wave was telegraphed from the West, and the week before the
Norumbia sailed was an anguish of burning days and breathless nights,
which fused all regrets and reluctances in the hope of escape, and made
the exiles of two continents long for the sea, with no care for either
shore.

VI.

Their steamer was to sail early; they were up at dawn because they
had scarcely lain down, and March crept out into the square for a last
breath of its morning air before breakfast. He was now eager to be gone;
he had broken with habit, and he wished to put all traces of the past
out of sight. But th