With it came Merlin, and took
a front seat on the platform; he was as good as his word for once.
One could not see the multitudes banked together beyond the ban,
but they were there, just the same. The moment the bells stopped,
those banked masses broke and poured over the line like a vast
black wave, and for as much as a half hour it continued to flow,
and then it solidified itself, and you could have walked upon
a pavement of human heads to--well, miles.
We had a solemn stage-wait, now, for about twenty minutes--a thing
I had counted on for effect; it is always good to let your audience
have a chance to work up its expectancy. At length, out of the
silence a noble Latin chant--men's voices--broke and swelled up
and rolled away into the night, a majestic tide of melody. I had
put that up, too, and it was one of the best effects I ever invented.
When it was finished I stood up on the platform and extended my
hands abroad, for two minutes, with my face uplifted--that always
produces a dead hush--and then slowly pronounced this ghastly word
with a kind of awfulness which caused hundreds to tremble, and
many women to faint:
"Constantinopolitanischerdudelsackspfeifenmachersgesellschafft!"
Just as I was moaning out the closing hunks of that word, I touched
off one of my electric connections and all that murky world of
people stood revealed in a hideous blue glare! It was immense
--that effect! Lots of people shrieked, women curled up and quit
in every direction, foundlings collapsed by platoons.
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