the dwelling place of ligh-第64节

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above　its　hoarse；　defiant　curses　was　heard；　from　behind；　the　throbbing　of
drums。

〃Cossacks！　　More　Cossacks！〃

The　cry　was　taken　up　by　Canadians；　Italians；　Belgians；　Poles；　Slovaks；
Jews；　and　Syrians。　　The　drums　grew　louder；　the　pressure　from　the　rear　was
relaxed；　the　throng　in　Faber　Street　began　a　retreat　in　the　direction　of
the　power　plant。　　Down　that　street；　now　in　double　time；　came　three
companies　of　Boston　militia；　newly　arrived　in　Hampton；　blue…taped；
gaitered；　slouch…hatted。　　From　columns　of　fours　they　wheeled　into　line；
and　with　bayonets　at　charge　slowly　advanced。　　Then　the　boldest　of　the
mob；　who　still　lingered；　sullenly　gave　way；　West　Street　was　cleared；　and
on　the　wider　thoroughfare　the　long　line　of　traffic；　the　imprisoned
trolleys　began　to　move　again。。。。

Janet　had　wedged　herself　into　the　press　far　enough　to　gain　a　view　down
West　Street　of　the　warehouse　roofs；　to　see　the　water　turned　on；　to　hear
the　screams　and　the　curses　and　then　the　shots。　　Once　more　she　caught　the
contagious　rage　of　the　mob；　the　spectacle　had　aroused　her　to　fury；　it
seemed　ignominious；　revolting　that　human　beings；　already　sufficiently
miserable；　should　be　used　thus。　　As　she　retreated　reluctantly　across　the
car　tracks　her　attention　was　drawn　to　a　man　at　her　side；　a　Slovak。　　His
face　was　white　and　pinched；　his　clothes　were　wet。　　Suddenly　he　stopped；
turned　and　shook　his　fist　at　the　line　of　soldiers。

〃The　Cossack；　the　politzman　belong　to　the　boss；　the　　capitalist！〃　he
cried。　　〃We　ain't　got　no　right　to　live。　　I　say；　kill　the　capitalistkill
Ditmar！〃

A　man　with　a　deputy's　shield　ran　toward　them。

〃Move　on！〃　he　said　brutally。　　〃Move　on；　or　I'll　roil　you　in。〃　　And　Janet；
once　clear　of　the　people；　fled　westward；　the　words　the　foreigner　had
spoken　ringing　in　her　ears。　　She　found　herself　repeating　them　aloud；
〃Kill　Ditmar！〃　as　she　hurried　through　the　gathering　dusk　past　the　power
house　with　its　bottle…shaped　chimneys；　and　crossed　the　little　bridge　over
the　stream　beside　the　chocolate　factory。　　She　gained　the　avenue　she　had
trod　with　Eda　on　that　summer　day　of　the　circus。　　Here　was　the　ragpicker's
shop；　the　fence　covered　with　bedraggled　posters；　the　deserted　grand…stand
of　the　base…ball　park　spread　with　a　milky…blue　mantle　of　snow；　and
beyond；　the　monotonous　frame　cottages　all　built　from　one　model。　　Now　she
descried　looming　above　her　the　outline　of　Torrey's　Hill　blurred　and
melting　into　a　darkening　sky；　and　turned　into　the　bleak　lane　where　stood
the　Franco…Belgian　HallHampton　Headquarters　of　the　Industrial　Workers
of　the　World。　　She　halted　a　moment　at　sight　of　the　crowd　of　strikers
loitering　in　front　of　it；　then　went　on　again；　mingling　with　them
excitedly　beside　the　little　building。　　Its　lines　were　simple　and
unpretentious；　and　yet　it　had　an　exotic　character　all　its　own；　differing
strongly　from　the　surrounding　houses：　it　might　have　been　transported　from
a　foreign　country　and　set　down　here。　　As　the　home　of　that　odd；
cooperative　society　of　thrifty　and　gregarious　Belgians　it　had　stimulated
her　imagination；　and　once　before　she　had　gazed；　as　now；　through　the
yellowed；　lantern…like　windows　of　the　little　store　at　the　women　and
children　waiting　to　fill　their　baskets　with　the　day's　provisions。　　In　the
middle　of　the　building　was　an　entrance　leading　up　to　the　second　floor。
Presently　she　gathered　the　courage　to　enter。　　Her　heart　was　pounding　as
she　climbed　the　dark　stairs　and　thrust　open　the　door；　and　she　stood　a
moment　on　the　threshold　almost　choked　by　the　fumes　of　tobacco；　bewildered
by　the　scene　within；　confused　by　the　noise。　　Through　a　haze　of　smoke　she
beheld　groups　of　swarthy　foreigners　fiercely　disputing　among　themselves
apparently　on　the　verge　of　actual　combat；　while　a　sprinkling　of　silent
spectators　of　both　sexes　stood　at　the　back　of　the　hall。　　At　the　far　end
was　a　stage；　still　set　with　painted；　sylvan　scenery；　and　seated　there；
alone；　above　the　confusion　and　the　strife；　with　a　calmness；　a　detachment
almost　disconcerting；　was　a　stout　man　with　long　hair　and　a　loose　black
tie。　　He　was　smoking　a　cigar　and　reading　a　newspaper　which　he　presently
flung　down；　taking　up　another　from　a　pile　on　the　table　beside　him。
Suddenly　one　of　the　groups；　shouting　and　gesticulating；　surged　toward　him
and　made　an　appeal　through　their　interpreter。　　He　did　not　appear　to　be
listening；　without　so　much　as　lowering　his　newspaper　he　spoke　a　few　words
in　reply；　and　the　group　retired；　satisfied。　　By　some　incomprehensible
power　he　dominated。　　Panting；　fascinated；　loath　to　leave　yet　fearful；
Janet　watched　him；　breathing　now　deeply　this　atmosphere　of　smoke；　of
strife；　and　turmoil。　　She　found　it　grateful；　for　the　strike；　the　battle
was　in　her　own　soul　as　well。　　Momentarily　she　had　forgotten　Rolfe；　who
had　been　in　her　mind　as　she　had　come　hither；　and　then　she　caught　sight　of
him　in　a　group　in　the　centre　of　the　hall。　　He　saw　her；　he　was　making　his
way　toward　her；　he　was　holding　her　hands；　looking　down　into　her　face　with
that　air　of　appropriation；　of　possession　she　remembered。　　But　she　felt　no
resentment　now；　only　a　fierce　exultation　at　having　dared。

〃You've　come　to　join　us！〃　he　exclaimed。　　〃I　thought　I'd　lost　you。〃

He　bent　closer　to　her　that　she　might　hear。

〃We　are　having　a　meeting　of　the　Committee；〃　he　said；　and　she　smiled。
Despite　her　agitation；　this　struck　her　as　humorous。　　And　Rolfe　smiled
back　at　her。　　〃You　wouldn't　think　so；　but　Antonelli　knows　how　to　manage
them。　　He　is　a　general。　　Come；　I　will　enlist　you；　you　shall　be　my
recruit。〃

〃But　what　can　I　do？〃　she　asked。

〃I　have　been　thinking。　　You　said　you　were　a　stenographerwe　need
stenographers；　clerks。　　You　will　not　be　wasted。　　Come　in　here。〃

Behind　her　two　box…like　rooms　occupying　the　width　of　the　building　had
been　turned　into　offices；　and　into　one　of　these　Rolfe　led　her。　　Men　and
women　were　passing　in　and　out；　while　in　a　corner　a　man　behind　a　desk　sat
opening　envelopes；　deftly　extracting　bills　and　post…office　orders　and
laying　them　in　a　drawer。　　On　the　wall　of　this　same　room　was　a　bookcase
half　filled　with　nondescript　volumes。

〃The　Bibliothequethat's　French　for　the　library　of　the　Franco…Belgian
Cooperative　Association；〃　explained　Rolfe。　　〃And　this　is　Comrade　Sanders。
Sanders　is　easier　to　say　than　Czernowitz。　　Here　is　the　young　lady　I　told
you　about；　who　wishes　to　help　usMiss　Bumpus。〃

Mr。　Sanders　stopped　counting　his　money　long　enough　to　grin　at　her。

〃You　will　be　welcome；〃　he　said；　in　good　English。　　〃Stenographers　are
scarce　here。　　When　can　you　come？〃

〃To…morrow　morning；〃　answered　Janet。

〃Good；〃　he　said。　　〃I'll　have　a　machine　for　you。　　What　kind　do　you　use？〃

She　told　him。　　Instinctively　she　took　a　fancy　to　this　little　man；　whose
flannel　shirt　and　faded　purple　necktie；　whose　blue；　unshaven　face　and
tousled　black　hair　seemed　incongruous　with　an　alert；　business…like；　and
efficient　manner。　　His　nose；　though　not　markedly　Jewish；　betrayed　in　him
the　blood　of　that　vital　race　which　has　triumphantly　survived　so　many
centuries　of　bondage　and　oppression。

〃He　was　a　find；　Czernowitzhe　calls　himself　Sanders；〃　Rolfe　explained；
as　they　entered　the　hall　once　more。　　〃An　Operative　in　the　Patuxent；
educated　himself；　went　to　night　schoolmight　have　been　a　capitalist　like
so　many　of　his　tribe　if　he　hadn't　loved　humanity。　　You'll　get　along　with
him。〃

〃I'm　sure　I　shall；〃　she　replied。

Rolfe　took　from　his　pocket　a　little　red　button　with　the　letters　I。W。W。
printed　across　it。　　He　pinned　it；　caressingly；　on　her　coat。

〃Now　you　are　one　of　us！〃　he　exclaimed。　　〃You'll　come　to…morrow？〃

〃I'll　come　to…morrow；〃　she　repeated；　drawing　away　from　him　a　little。

〃Andwe　shall　be　friends？〃

She　nodded。　　〃I　must　go　now；　I　think。〃

〃Addio！〃　he　said。　　〃I　shall　look　for　you。　　For　the　present　I　must　remain
here；　with　the　Committee。〃

When　Janet　reached　Faber　Street　she　halted　on　the　corner　of　Stanley　to
stare　into　the　window　of　the　glorified　drugstore。　　But　she　gave　no　heed
to　the　stationery；　the　cameras　and　candy　displayed　there；　being　in　the
emotional　state　that　reduces　to　unreality　objects　of　the　commonplace；
everyday　world。　　Presently；　however；　she　became　aware　of　a　man　standing
beside　her。

〃Haven't　we　met　before？〃　he　asked。　　〃Orcan　I　be　mistaken？〃

Some　oddly　familiar　quizzical　note　in　his　voice　stirred；　as　she　turned　to
him；　a　lapsed　memory。　　The　hawklike　yet　benevolent　and　illuminating　look
he　gave　her　recalled　the　man　at　Silliston　whom　she　had　thought　a
carpenter　though　he　was　dressed　now　in　a　warm　suit　of　gray　wool；　and　wore
a　white；　low　collar。

〃In　Silliston！〃　she　exclaimed。　　〃Whywhat　are　you　doing　here？〃

〃Wellthis　instant　I　was　just　looking　at　those　notepapers；　wondering
which　I　should　choose　if　I　really　had　good　taste。　　But　it's　very
puzzlingisn't　it？when　one　comes　from　the　country。　　Now　that　saffron
with　the　rough　edges　is　veryartistic。　　Don't　you　think　so？〃

She　looked　at　him　and　smiled；　though　his　face　was　serious。

〃You　don't　really　like　it；　yourself；〃　she　informed　him。

〃Now　you're　reflecting　on　my　taste；〃　he　declared。

〃Oh　noit's　because　I　saw　the　fence　you　were　making。　　Is　it　finished
yet？〃

〃I　put　the　last　pineapple　in　place　the　day　before　Christmas。　　Do　you
remember　the　pineapples？〃

S