In a house near me
some people were dancing to the music of a Hungarian band. I even
fancied I could hear the windows shake to the rhythm of their feet,
but I could not make out from which part of the compass the sounds
came. And sometimes, as the music rose, it seemed close at my hand,
and, again, to be floating high in the air above my head. Although I
was surrounded by thousands of householders, I was as completely lost
as though I had been set down by night in the Sahara Desert. There
seemed to be no reason in waiting longer for an escort, so I again
set out, and at once bumped against a low, iron fence. At first I
believed this to be an area railing, but, on following it, I found
that it stretched for a long distance, and that it was pierced at
regular intervals with gates. I was standing, uncertainly, with my
hand on one of these, when a square of light suddenly opened in the
night, and in it I saw, as you see a picture thrown by a biograph in
a darkened theatre, a young gentleman in evening dress, and, back of
him, the lights of a hall. I guessed, from its elevation and distance
from the sidewalk, that this light must come from the door of a house
set back from the street, and I determined to approach it and ask the
young man to tell me where I was.
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