He did not know what to do with himself, more homeless here in this
street, which should have been his own, than in any other place. It was
black with people, but he was not carried with the stream; he resembled
something that has been washed up to one side and left lying.

They were all in their best clothes. The workmen came in crowds on their
way either from or to the polling-booths, and some were collected and
accompanied thither by eager comrades. One man would shout to another
across the road through his hollowed hand: "Hi, Petersen! I suppose
you've voted?" Everywhere there was excitement and good humor: the city
was to be taken!

Pelle went with the stream over Queen Louise's Bridge and farther into
the city. Here the feeling was different, opinions were divided, people
exchanged sharp words. Outside the newspaper-offices stood dense crowds
impeding the wheel-traffic as they waited patiently for the results that
were shown in the windows. Every time a contested district came in, a
wave of movement passed through the crowd, followed by a mighty roar if
a victory was recorded. All was comparatively quiet; people stood
outside the offices of the papers that bore the color of their party.
Only the quarrelsome men gathered about their opponents and had their
hats bashed in. Within the offices the members of the staff were passing
busily backward and forward, hanging up the results and correcting them.

All the _cafes_ and restaurants were full of customers. The
telephone rang incessantly, and messengers kept coming with lists from
the telegram bureaus; men fought over the results in front of the great
blackboard and chances were discussed at the tables and much political
nonsense was talked.