moment
and sat quietly after he had left--simply savoring the moment. A faint
scent lingered behind him: a distinctive cologne that left quite a
favorable impression on her.

* * * * *

Gretchen attended a short afternoon concert on campus. It was the last
student recital of the season, and she had heard tell of the program:
the afternoon was to open with mazurkas by Chopin and a selection of
those divine "Transcendental Etudes" by Liszt--she could not stay away.
Chopin was an aperitif, followed by a few mildly diverting piano works
by students. Then, she sat breathless and transported--utterly
transported, halfway to tears upon a bed of clouds--through the etudes
of Liszt. In particular she had never heard the "Harmonies du Soir"
more beautifully rendered.

After an intermission, which she spent simply sitting quietly,
pondering the exquisite delicacies of Liszt's piano writing, the second
part of the concert opened with Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons", performed
by an intimate ensemble rather than with the full complement of
strings. The performers were students, to be sure, but she found it
delightful nonetheless. When the "Autumn" season opened, she even felt
a sudden chill in the air--the performance was so wonderfully
effective--and she pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
She chanced then to look across the audience, and thought that several
rows down, in front of her, she saw Professor Bridwell. She had no
idea he liked concerts; in fact, she realized that she knew nothing
whatever about him. She was positive it was the professor--even from
the back, there was no mistaking his curly hair. At once she realized
that he rather resembled portraits of Hector Berlioz. He sat upright,
almost leaning forward in a posture that seemed ready to rise in an
instant. She fancied that could she but see his handsome face, his
eyes would be closed, as he was carried away by the music, blown upon
Vivaldi's autumn wind. Why she was looking at the audience rather than
at the orchestra she really did not know--she forced her gaze away from
the professor's back and tried to concentrate again upon the music.
But her effort was unsuccessful.

When the concert was ended, Gretchen fairly ran to the exit, and stood
there at the door, looking back across the auditorium. Yes, it was he,
she saw finally. He was coming up the aisle and she glimpsed his face
among the swarm of bodies.