Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. The will to live had returned. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth. Smiling, the Chinaman gave the correct pronunciation. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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