He
rose with a gasp, and was first conscious of a strange smell of dirt and
tallow and something that he did not know, but was afterwards to
recognise as the scent of sunflower seed. He was pushed upon, pressed
and pulled, fingered and crushed. He did not mind--he was glad--this was
what he wanted. He looked about him and found that he and all the people
round him were swimming in a hazy golden mist flung into the air from
the thousands of lighted candles that danced in the breeze blowing
through the building. The whole vast shining floor was covered with
peasants, pressed, packed together. Peasants, men and women--he did not
see a single member of the middle-class. In front of him under the altar
there was a blaze of light, and figures moved in the blaze uncertainly,
indistinctly. Now and then a sudden quiver passed across the throng, as
wind blows through the corn. Here and there men and women knelt, but for
the most part they stood steadfast, motionless, staring in front of
them. He looked at them and discovered that they had the faces of
children--simple, trustful, unintelligent, unhumorous children,--and
eyes, always kindlier than any he had ever seen in other human beings.
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