They congested the
doorway, pushing for precedence--resolving them-
selves at length into a line and moving up step
by step. By some subtle spiritual or physical
alchemy observation had been transmuted into
action--the sightseers had become participants
in the spectacle--the audience had usurped the
stage.
To the only spectator remaining on the other
side of the street--Alvan Creede, the banker--
the interior of the store with its inpouring crowd
continued in full illumination; all the strange things
going on there were clearly visible. To those inside
all was black darkness. It was as if each person as he
was thrust in at the door had been stricken blind,
and was maddened by the mischance. They groped
with aimless imprecision, tried to force their way
out against the current, pushed and elbowed, struck
at random, fell and were trampled, rose and trampled
in their turn. They seized one another by the gar-
ments, the hair, the beard--fought like animals,
cursed, shouted, called one another opprobrious and
obscene names. When, finally, Alvan Creede
had seen the last person of the line pass into that
awful tumult the light that had illuminated it was
suddenly quenched and all was as black to him
as to those within. He turned away and left the
place.
In the early morning a curious crowd had gath-
ered about 'Deemer's.' It was composed partly of
those who had run away the night before, but now
had the courage of sunshine, partly of honest folk
going to their daily toil.
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