Hudson River Bracketed by Edith Wharton

-"Under a waning moon the little fleet stood out from Pondicherry . . ."

Vance sat lost in his vision. The phrase had murmured in his brain all day. Pondicherry--where was it? He didn't even know. Memories of the movies furnished the vague exoticism of the scene: clustered palms, arcaded houses, dusky women with baskets of tropical fruit. But lower than this surface picture, of which the cinema had robbed him, the true Pondicherry--HIS--hung before him like a mirage, remote, rare and undefiled. Pondicherry! What a name! Its magic syllables concealed the subject of his new tale, as flower petals curve over the budding fruit. He saw a harbour lit by a heavy red moon, the dusty cobblestones of the quay, a low blue-white house with a terrace over the water. .