The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 5Poe, Edgar Allan
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The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 5
Poe, Edgar Allan
American fiction -- 19th century; American poetry; Fantasy fiction; Horror tales, American
It was now fully night-fall, and a thick humid fog hung over the city,
soon ending in a settled and heavy rain. This change of weather had an odd
effect upon the crowd, the whole of which was at once put into new
commotion, and overshadowed by a world of umbrellas. The waver, the
jostle, and the hum increased in a tenfold degree. For my own part I did
not much regard the rain—the lurking of an old fever in my system
rendering the moisture somewhat too dangerously pleasant. Tying a
handkerchief about my mouth, I kept on. For half an hour the old man held
his way with difficulty along the great thoroughfare; and I here walked
close at his elbow through fear of losing sight of him. Never once turning
his head to look back, he did not observe me. By and by he passed into a
cross street, which, although densely filled with people, was not quite so
much thronged as the main one he had quitted. Here a change in his
demeanor became evident. He walked more slowly and with less object than
before—more hesitatingly. He crossed and re-crossed the way
repeatedly without apparent aim; and the press was still so thick that, at
every such movement, I was obliged to follow him closely. The street was a
narrow and long one, and his course lay within it for nearly an hour,
during which the passengers had gradually diminished to about that number
which is ordinarily seen at noon in Broadway near the park—so vast a
difference is there between a London populace and that of the most
frequented American city. A second turn brought us into a square,
brilliantly lighted, and overflowing with life. The old manner of the
stranger re-appeared. His chin fell upon his breast, while his eyes rolled
wildly from under his knit brows, in every direction, upon those who
hemmed him in. He urged his way steadily and perseveringly. I was
surprised, however, to find, upon his having made the circuit of the
square, that he turned and retraced his steps. Still more was I astonished
to see him repeat the same walk several times—once nearly detecting
me as he came round with a sudden movement.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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