The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 5


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fiercely, and there were few persons to be seen. The stranger grew pale.  
He walked moodily some paces up the once populous avenue, then, with a  
heavy sigh, turned in the direction of the river, and, plunging through  
a great variety of devious ways, came out, at length, in view of one of  
the principal theatres. It was about being closed, and the audience were  
thronging from the doors. I saw the old man gasp as if for breath while  
he threw himself amid the crowd; but I thought that the intense agony of  
his countenance had, in some measure, abated. His head again fell upon  
his breast; he appeared as I had seen him at first. I observed that  
he now took the course in which had gone the greater number of the  
audience--but, upon the whole, I was at a loss to comprehend the  
waywardness of his actions.  
As he proceeded, the company grew more scattered, and his old uneasiness  
and vacillation were resumed. For some time he followed closely a  
party of some ten or twelve roisterers; but from this number one by one  
dropped off, until three only remained together, in a narrow and gloomy  
lane little frequented. The stranger paused, and, for a moment, seemed  
lost in thought; then, with every mark of agitation, pursued rapidly  
a route which brought us to the verge of the city, amid regions very  
different from those we had hitherto traversed. It was the most noisome  
quarter of London, where every thing wore the worst impress of the most  
deplorable poverty, and of the most desperate crime. By the dim light  
of an accidental lamp, tall, antique, worm-eaten, wooden tenements were  
seen tottering to their fall, in directions so many and capricious that  
scarce the semblance of a passage was discernible between them.  
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