If I am to know Paris I will know her from here--study her, love her from here.
This place is one of miracle.

One might know life here, living in the skies.

Listen! That musician knows it!" He thrust out his hand impulsively and caught Blake's in a pressure full of nervous tension, full of magnetism.

"What is it he plays?
Tell me! Tell me!" His touch, his excitement fired Blake's Celtic blood, banishing his mood of criticism.
"The man is playing scraps from _Louise_--Charpentier's _Louise_." "I have never heard _Louise_." "What! And you a student of Paris?
Why, it's Charpentier's hymn to Montmartre.

Listen, now!" His voice quickened.