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Updated: August 27, 2024
She was still upon this ghostly errand when a furious outbreak of drums and saxophones sounded a prelude for the second dance. Walter danced with her again, but he gave her a warning. "I don't want to leave you high and dry," he told her, "but I can't stand it. I got to get somewhere I don't haf' to hurt my eyes with these berries; I'll go blind if I got to look at any more of 'em.
When he bolted in she was already in the lobby, agitatedly looking over a frame of "stills." She ran to him, hooked her fingers in his lapel, poured out, "They've invited you to the opera? I want you to come and put it all over them. I'm almost sure there's a plot. They want to show me that you aren't used to tiaras and saxophones and creaking dowagers and tulle. Beat 'em! Beat 'em!
He had to help me out with all kinds of substitutes in the shape of saxophones and saxhorns; moreover, he was officially appointed to conduct the music behind the scenes. It was an impossibility ever to get this music properly played. The main grievance, however, lay in the incompetence of M. Dietzsch, the conductor, which had now reached a pitch hitherto unsuspected.
The musicians arrived on the seven o'clock trolley, almost filling one car with their great drums and saxophones and bass fiddles. The women who were either supported by, or supported, the ten old men were kept busy by their aged relatives hunting shirt studs and collar buttons, pressing broadcloth trousers, letting out waistcoats or taking them up, sewing on buttons and laundering white ties.
Three brass-bands, a company of six opera-singers, a Hawaiian sextette, and four youths who played saxophones and guitars disguised as wash-boards. The most applauded pieces were those, such as the "Lucia" inevitability, which the audience had heard most often.
Not that she belonged to that world, heaven knows! though, travelling de luxe with patients, as she often did, she knew a good deal about it, and it was always fun to pretend for a brief time that she did not have to work for her living. The huge room was filling rapidly; it was the hour of the thé dansant. An orchestra, rich with saxophones, played a waltz that everyone in France was singing.
"We'll come here another night when you're not tired, honey." "Yes," he answered, "make a party of it. How about that, Mr. Meredith?" "Surest thing." They forgot Tesla. "Oh, Erik!" She embraced his arm with both her hands. Under the table she pressed her thigh trembling against him. The music from the platform had changed. Cornets, banjos, saxophones, again.
They forgot the life about them; it was as though they were marooned upon a tiny island in the midst of uncharted seas. "Do you feel like dancing?" The coffee, sending up a fragrant steam, was too hot to drink; the saxophones sounded an insinuating invitation. "Do let's I'm dying to!" As they mingled with the circling couples on the glassy floor, Roger gave her hand a faint pressure.
The voluminous chords of the wedding march done in mad syncopation issued in a delirious blend from the saxophones and trombones and the march began. "Aren't you glad, camel?" demanded Betty sweetly as they stepped off. "Aren't you glad we're going to be married and you're going to belong to the nice snake charmer ever afterward?" The camel's front legs pranced, expressing exceeding joy.
She thought, "An unbearable man, completely out of place. How in the world could Eddie...." The music had changed. Muted cornets, banjos and saxophones were wailing out a tom-tom adagio. People were rising from tables and moving toward a dancing space. Eddie stood beside her bowing with elaborate stiffness. "My next dance, Miss Winthrop." Anna looked up blankly.
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