He wanted to push past Georgi. But the dying man stood like one crucified, with outstretched arms and hands clawing into the edge of the niches which were behind him. He held his eyes, which were like jewels, fixedly set on the multitude which was storming towards him.
“Brothers ...” he said.
“He said: ‘Murderers.... Brother murderers ...’” said the dying mouth.
The multitude left him alone and raced on. On the shoulders of the multitude the girl was dancing and singing. She sang with her blood-red mouth of deadly sin!
“We’ve passed sentence upon the machines!
We have condemned the machines to death!
The machines must die—to hell with them!
Death!—Death!—Death to the machines—!”
Like the rush of a thousand wings the step of the multitude thundered through the narrow passages of the City of the Dead. The girl’s voice died away. The steps died away. Georgi loosened his hands and pitched forward.