Her nervous excitement increased. The emotion of the
people around her, the bands, the singing, all seemed to cry to her,
"He is coming! He is coming! He is coming!" . . . but it was Martin
now and not God.
Old Crashaw, having recovered his breath, went on: he continued for
some time to abuse them all, screaming and beating the wooden desk
with his fists--then suddenly he changed, his voice softened, his
eyes were milder, there was something wistful and pathetic in his
old ugly yellow face.
"I know that you came in here to-night, all of you, just as you
might into a picture-house or a theatre. Entrance free. Well, then,
why not? Had we charged half-a-crown there wouldn't have been one of
you. Half-a-crown and the most important thing in life. I say the
most important--I say the only important thing in life. A man's
soul, its history and growth. What do you know of the soul, you ask
me? How do you know there is one? Well, I can only tell you my news.
If a man comes into your town and tells you that there is an army
marching down upon it to destroy it he may be true or he may not. If
he is true then, when you don't listen to him you are doomed.
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