In his Roméo et Juliette, Berlioz has his Capulets leave the ball and say their goodbyes by quietly humming and singing little snatches of melody from the previous festivities. As always, how amazingly well he depicts the scene:
Ohé, Capulets! bonsoir, bonsoir!
Ohé, bonsoir, cavaliers, au revoir!
Ah, quelle nuit! Quel festin!
Bal divin! Quel festin!
Que de folles paroles!
Sous les grands mélèzes
Allez rêver de bal et d’amour,
Allez, rêver d’amour
Tra la la la la la
There is a quiet bliss, a peacefully flitting euphoria. Sweating faces beaming in the cool air. All their most profound ecstasies have easily been met, checked and fulfilled, and they exchange tired pleasantries and persiflage. This too, "oh how wonderful!", "oh what songs!" "oh what fun!", like the transition from a blazing ballroom to the chilled night, transitions into a numb, unconscious "tra la la la" gibberish. Sweat dripping on frosted leaves lying over carriage-flattened cobblestones. And not without a sort of ironic sympathy, before lovesick Romeo (Berlioz) enters.
There is something to this Romanticism thing. And I'm not even gay!