There were balconies, galleries, great archways
giving remoter perspectives, and everywhere people, a vast arena of
people, densely packed and cheering. Across the nearer space lay the
collapsed cable like a huge snake. It had been cut by the men of the
flying machine at its upper end, and had crumpled down into the hall. Men
seemed to be hauling this out of the way. But the whole effect was vague,
the very buildings throbbed and leapt with the roar of the voices.
He stood unsteadily and looked at those about him. Someone supported him
by one arm. "Let me go into a little room," he said, weeping; "a little
room," and could say no more. A man in black stepped forward, took his
disengaged arm. He was aware of officious men opening a door before him.
Someone guided him to a seat. He staggered. He sat down heavily and
covered his face with his hands; he was trembling violently, his nervous
control was at an end. He was relieved of his cloak, he could not
remember how; his purple hose he saw were black with wet. People were
running about him, things were happening, but for some time he gave no
heed to them.
He had escaped. A myriad of cries told him that. He was safe. These were
the people who were on his side. For a space he sobbed for breath, and
then he sat still with his face covered. The air was full of the shouting
of innumerable men.
CHAPTER IX
THE PEOPLE MARCH
He became aware of someone urging a glass of clear fluid upon his
attention, looked up and discovered this was a dark young man in a yellow
garment.
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