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Amory
decided
to
sit
for
a
while
on
the
front
steps
,
so
he
bade
them
good
night
.
The
great
tapestries
of
trees
had
darkened
to
ghosts
back
at
the
last
edge
of
twilight
.
The
early
moon
had
drenched
the
arches
with
pale
blue
,
and
,
weaving
over
the
night
,
in
and
out
of
the
gossamer
rifts
of
moon
,
swept
a
song
,
a
song
with
more
than
a
hint
of
sadness
,
infinitely
transient
,
infinitely
regretful
.
He
remembered
that
an
alumnus
of
the
nineties
had
told
him
of
one
of
Booth
Tarkington
's
amusements
:
standing
in
mid-campus
in
the
small
hours
and
singing
tenor
songs
to
the
stars
,
arousing
mingled
emotions
in
the
couched
undergraduates
according
to
the
sentiment
of
their
moods
.
Now
,
far
down
the
shadowy
line
of
University
Place
a
white-clad
phalanx
broke
the
gloom
,
and
marching
figures
,
white-shirted
,
white-trousered
,
swung
rhythmically
up
the
street
,
with
linked
arms
and
heads
thrown
back
:
"
Going
back
--
going
back
,
Going
--
back
--
to
--
Nas-sau
--
Hall
,
Going
back
--
going
back
--
To
the
--
Best
--
Old
--
Place
--
of
--
All
.
Going
back
--
going
back
,
From
all
--
this
--
earth-ly
--
ball
,
