Help, Abimelech. They have broken in at Moria Gate.

[Cries of terror arise from the crowd]

Abimelech

[Cutting a path through them with his sword] Make way, make way.

[He strides off. Doorkeeper, Nahum, and the soldiers withdraw through the wicket]

[The crowd becomes chaotic. Previously it had been animated by a definite will. Now its units form a confused medley of horror-stricken persons, giving vent to hardly intelligible cries of terror and distress]

Voices

They have broken in at Moria Gate.—All is lost.—My wife.—My children.—God help us.—To the temple.—Elijah, Elijah!—Where shall we hide?—What will become of us?

A Voice

To the walls! Man the walls!