One thing I saw with perfect
clearness and some terror, and that was that Barber himself realized
that his power was dying within him. He appeared to be dwindling,
shrinking down; in his eyes were suffering and a terrible panic--the
distress of a beaten man appealing for mercy. The catastrophe must fall
in a minute--
With some difficulty I rose from my place and made for the nearest exit.
My difficulty came, not from the crowd or anything like that, but from
an inexplicable sensation that I was committing some crime by stirring
while Barber was on the stage, and even risking my life.
Outside it was raining.
I walked away rapidly, for although I was, to a certain extent, under
the influence of the impression I have just described, some remains of
common sense urged me to put a long distance between myself and the
concert hall as soon as possible. I knew that the hoots and yells of
fury and derision had already broken loose back there. Perhaps Barber
would be taken to the police station. I did not want to be mixed up in
the affair--
But suddenly I heard the steps of one running behind me. As I say, it
was a wet night, and at that hour the street was pretty empty. Barber
ran up against me and caught my arm. He was panting and trembling
violently.
"You fool!" I cried furiously.
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