Maradick was crushed against the old lady with the basket; for an instant, a movement in the crowd flung him forward and he caught at the basket to steady himself. Really, it was too ridiculous! His hat had fallen to the back of his head, he was hot and perspiring, and he wanted to fling off his overcoat, but his hands were pressed to his sides. Mechanically his feet were keeping time with the drum, and suddenly he laughed. An old man in front of him was crushed sideways between two stalwart youths, and every now and again he struggled to escape, making pathetic little movements with his hands and then sinking back again, resigned. His old, wrinkled face, with a crooked nose and an expression of timid anxiety, seemed to Maradick infinitely diverting. “By Jove,” he cried, “look at that fellow!” But Tony was excited beyond measure. He was crushed against Maradick, his cap balancing ridiculously on the back of his head; his mouth was smiling and his feet were beating time. “Isn’t it a rag? I say, isn’t it? Such fun! Oh, I beg your pardon, I’m afraid that I stepped on you. But there is a crowd, isn’t there? It’s really awfully hard to help it. Oh! let me pick it up for you—a cucumber, you said? Oh, there it is, rolled right away under that man there.” “Oh thank you, if you wouldn’t mind!” “No, it’s none the worse, missis. I say, Maradick, aren’t they decent; the people, I mean?” And then suddenly they were off. The red coat of the town-crier waved in the wind and the drum moved. For a moment a curious silence fell on the crowd. Before, there had been Babel—a very ocean of voices mingled with cries and horns and the blaring of penny whistles—you could scarcely hear yourself speak. But now there was silence. The drum beat came clearly through the air—one, two, one, two—and then, with a shout the silence was broken and the procession moved. There was a sudden linking of arms down the line and Tony put his through Maradick’s. With feet in line they passed down the square, bending forward, then back; at one moment the old woman’s basket jumped suddenly into Maradick’s stomach, then he was pushed from behind. He felt that his cap was wobbling and he took it off, and, holding it tightly to his chest, passed on bareheaded. At the turning of the corner the pace became faster. The beat of the drum, heard faintly through the noise of the crowd, was now “two, three, two, three.” “Come along, come along, it’s time to move, I’m tired of standing still!” A delirium seemed to seize the front lines, and it passed like a flame down the ranks. Faster, faster. For heaven’s sake, faster! People were singing, a strange tune that seemed to have no words but only a crescendo of sound, a murmur that rose to a hum and then to a scream, and then sank again back into the wind and the beat of the drum.