He was standing outside the Oxford Music Hall, and he thought that he would go inside for a little time that he might avoid the rain ... and then upon that followed the reflection that it did not matter whether he was wet or no—he would soon be dead.
Faintly behind these gloomy resolves some voice seemed to tell him that if he could only pass safely through this night fortune would again be kind to him. "Wait," something told him. "Be patient for once in your life".... But no, to wait any more was impossible. Some fine action, some splendid defiance or heroic defence, here and now ... otherwise he would show the world that he had courage, at least, to die. Most of his impetuous follies had their origin in his conviction that the eyes of the world were always upon him.
He paid his money and walked into the circle promenade. Behind him was a bar at which several stout gentlemen and ladies were happily conversational. In front of him a crowd of men and women leaned forward over the back of the circle and listened to the entertainment.
On the stage, in a circle of brilliant light, a thin man with a melancholy face, a top hat and pepper-and-salt trousers was singing—
"Straike me pink and straike me blue,
Straike me purple and crimson too
I'll be there,
Lottie dear,
Down by the old Canteen."
"Now," said the gentleman, "once more. Let's 'ave it—all together."
There was a moment's pause, then the orchestra began very softly and, in a kind of ecstasy the crowd sang—
"Straike me pink and straike me blue,
Straike me purple and crimson too," etc.
Breton sat down on a little velvet seat near the bar and gloomily looked about him. Did they only realize, these people, the tragedy that was so close to them, then would they very swiftly cease their silly singing. The place was hot, infernally hot. It glowed with light, it crackled with noise, it was possessed with a glaring unreality. It occurred to him that to make a leap upon the railing at the back of the circle, to stand for one instant balanced there before the frightened people, then to plunge, down, down, into the stalls—that would be a striking finish! How they would all scream, and run and scatter! ... yes ...
Against the clinking and chatter of the bar he would hear the voice of the funny man: "And so I says to 'er, 'Maria, if you're tryin' to prove to me that it's two in the mornin', then I says what I want to know is oo's been 'elpin' yer to stay awake all this time? That's what....'"