Protesters in the many hundreds marched briskly up 14th Street NW Saturday night to demonstrate against the election of Donald Trump as president.

Under a bright moon, and in chilly temperatures, they flowed north around Thomas Circle NW, chanting “Not my president! Not my president!”

It seemed at the least to be an unusual Saturday night activity for the District.

In contrast to many mass marches, where the participants seem to ooze forward, Saturday night’s demonstrators moved with alacrity. Without much warning they headed north from 14th and K Streets, halting traffic as they went. At one point, the rear of the line was near L Street, while those ahead were negotiating the curve of Thomas Circle NW.

Ahead of them, the line seemed to vanish into the dim distance.

At least in the area around K Streets, they were watched by a few passersby on the sidewalks, but they exchanged few if any words with them as they went on, followed by a few D.C. police cruisers.

At one point, the chant was “Love Trumps Hate,” proclaimed with vigor. Two small children, on the 14th Street sidewalk with their mother, went running in the opposite direction from the marchers. But whatever the chant may have meant to them, they repeated it loudly, as their mother followed.

An employee of a downtown hotel had a good vantage point. How long had it taken them to pass, he was asked. A minute? More, he said. Five minutes? More, he said. TEN MINUTES? Possibly more than that, he said.

Those who marched here seemed part of a protest movement that has made its presence known in cities across the country. There was no indication that the outpouring here was anything but peacful, and no reports of any arrests were received.

But there was a certain drama in the mere fact of the march here, as the elongated column moved with an alacrity that in itself seemed to symbolize purpose. It passed swiftly through streets where darkness had long since fallen.

As it moved, it seemed driven by some inner energy not obviously shared by those who stared with curiosity from sidewalks, curbs and street corners.

A few motorists honked their horns. It was difficult to assess with f confidence what meaning resided in the honks. But it seemed that at least two or three motorists, temporarily halted by the march, were nevertheless sympathetic.