the dwelling place of ligh-第77节

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He　bent　over　her；　his　red　lips　gleaming　through　his　beard；　a　terrible
hunger　in　his　lustrous　eyesthe　eyes　of　a　soul　to　which　self…denial　was
unknown。　　His　voice　was　thick　with　uncontrolled　passion；　his　hand　was
cold。

〃Janet；　what　has　happened？　　I　love　you；　you　must　love　meI　cannot
believe　that　you　do　not。　　Come　with　me。　　We　shall　work　together　for　the
workersit　is　all　nothing　without　you。〃

For　a　moment　she　sat　still；　and　then　a　pain　shot　through　her；　a　pain　as
sharp　as　a　dagger　thrust。　　She　drew　her　hand　away。

〃I　can't　loveI　can　only　hate；〃　she　said。

〃But　you　do　not　hate　me！〃　Rolfe　repudiated　so　gross　a　fact。　　His　voice
caught　as　in　a　sob。　　〃I；　who　love　you；　who　have　taught　you！〃

She　dismissed　thiswhat　he　had　taught　herwith　a　gesture　which；　though
slight；　was　all…expressive。　　He　drew　back　from　her。

〃Shall　I　tell　you　who　has　planned　and　carried　out　this　plot？〃　he　cried。
〃It　is　Ditmar。　　He　is　the　one；　and　he　used　Janes；　the　livery　stable
keeper；　the　politician　who　brought　the　dynamite　to　Hampton；　as　his　tool。
Half　an　hour　before　Janes　got　to　the　station　in　Boston　he　was　seen　by　a
friend　of　ours　talking　to　Ditmar　in　front　of　the　Chippering　offices；　and
Janes　had　the　satchel　with　him　then。　　Ditmar　walked　to　the　corner　with
him。〃

Janet；　too；　had　risen。

〃I　don't　believe　it；〃　she　said。

〃Ah；　I　thought　you　wouldn't！　　But　we　have　the　proof　that　dynamite　was　in
the　satchel；　we've　found　the　contractor　from　whom　it　was　bought。　　I　was　a
foolI　might　have　known　that　you　loved　Ditmar。〃

〃I　hate　him！〃　said　Janet。

〃It　is　the　same　thing；〃　said　Rolfe。

She　did　not　answer。。。。　　He　watched　her　in　silence　as　she　put　on　her　hat
and　coat　and　left　the　room。

The　early　dusk　was　gathering　when　she　left　the　hall　and　made　her　way
toward　the　city。　　The　huge　bottle…shaped　chimneys　of　the　power　plant
injected　heavy　black　smoke　into　the　wet　air。　　In　Faber　Street　the　once
brilliant　signs　above　the　〃ten…foot〃　buildings　seemed　dulled；　the
telegraph　poles　starker；　nakeder　than　ever；　their　wires　scarcely
discernible　against　the　smeared　sky。　　The　pedestrians　were　sombrely
garbed；　and　went　about　in　〃rubbers〃the　most　depressing　of　all　articles
worn　by　man。　　Sodden　piles　of　snow　still　hid　the　curb　and　gutters；　but
the　pavements　were　trailed　with　mud　that　gleamed　in　the　light　from　the
shop　windows。　　And　Janet；　lingering　unconsciously　in　front　of　that　very
emporium　where　Lisehad　been　incarcerated；　the　Bagatelle；　stared　at　the
finery　displayed　there；　at　the　blue　tulle　dress　that　might　be　purchased；
she　read；　for　22。99。　　She　found　herself　repeating；　in　meaningless；
subdued　tones；　the　words；　〃twenty…two　ninety…nine。〃　　She　even　triedjust
to　see　if　it　were　possibleto　concentrate　her　mind　on　that　dress；　on　the
fur　muffs　and　tippets　in　the　next　window；　to　act　as　if　this　were　just　an
ordinary；　sad　February　afternoon；　and　she　herself　once　more　just　an
ordinary　stenographer　leading　a　monotonous；　uneventful　existence。　　But
she　knew　that　this　was　not　true；　because；　later　on；　she　was　going　to　do
somethingto　commit　some　act。　　She　didn't　know　what　this　act　would　be。
Her　head　was　hot；　her　temples　throbbed。。。。

Night　had　fallen；　the　electric　arcs　burned　blue　overhead；　she　was　in
another　streetwas　it　Stanley？　　Sounds　of　music　reached　her；　the　rumble
of　marching　feet；　dark；　massed　figures　were　in　the　distance　swimming
toward　her　along　the　glistening　line　of　the　car　tracks；　and　she　heard　the
shrill　whistling　of　the　doffer　boys；　who　acted　as　a　sort　of　fife　corps　in
these　paradeswhich　by　this　time　had　become　familiar　to　the　citizens　of
Hampton。　　And　Janet　remembered　when　the　little　red　book　that　contained
the　songs　had　arrived　at　Headquarters　from　the　west　and　had　been
distributed　by　thousands　among　the　strikers。　　She　recalled　the　words　of
this　song；　though　the　procession　was　as　yet　too　far　away　for　her　to
distinguish　them：

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃The　People's　flag　is　deepest　red；
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　It　shrouded　oft　our　martyred　dead；
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　And　ere　their　limbs　grew　stiff　and　cold；
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Their　life…blood　dyed　its　every　fold。〃

The　song　ceased；　and　she　stood　still；　waiting　for　the　procession　to　reach
her。　　A　group　of　heavy　Belgian　women　were　marching　together。　　Suddenly；
as　by　a　simultaneous　impulse；　their　voices　rang　out　in　the
Internationalethe　terrible　Marseillaise　of　the　workers：

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃Arise；　ye　prisoners　of　starvation！
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Arise；　ye　wretched　of　the　earth　〃

And　the　refrain　was　taken　up　by　hundreds　of　throats：

　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃'Tis　the　final　conflict；
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Let　each　stand　in　his　place

The　walls　of　the　street　flung　it　back。　　On　the　sidewalk；　pressed　against
the　houses；　men　and　women　heard　it　with　white　faces。　　But　Janet　was
carried　on。。。。　　The　scene　changed；　now　she　was　gazing　at　a　mass　of　human
beings　hemmed　in　by　a　line　of　soldiers。　　Behind　the　crowd　was　a　row　of
old…fashioned　brick　houses；　on　the　walls　of　which　were　patterned；　by　the
cold　electric　light；　the　branches　of　the　bare　elms　ranged　along　the
sidewalk。　　People　leaned　out　of　the　windows；　like　theatregoers　at　a　play。
The　light　illuminated　the　red　and　white　bars　of　the　ensign；　upheld　by　the
standard　bearer　of　the　regiment；　the　smaller　flags　flaunted　by　the
strikerseach　side　clinging　hardily　to　the　emblem　of　human　liberty。　　The
light　fell；　too；　harshly　and　brilliantly；　on　the　workers　in　the　front
rank　confronting　the　bayonets；　and　these　seemed　strangely　indifferent；　as
though　waiting　for　the　flash　of　a　photograph。　　A　little　farther　on　a
group　of　boys；　hands　in　pockets；　stared　at　the　soldiers　with　bravado。
From　the　rear　came　that　indescribable　〃booing〃　which　those　who　have　heard
never　forget；　mingled　with　curses　and　cries：

〃Vive　la　greve！〃

〃To　hell　with　the　Cossacks！〃

〃Kahm　onshoot！〃

The　backs　of　the　soldiers；　determined；　unyielding；　were　covered　with
heavy　brown　capes　that　fell　below　the　waist。　　As　Janet's　glance　wandered
down　the　line　it　was　arrested　by　the　face　of　a　man　in　a　visored　woollen
capa　face　that　was　almost　sepia；　in　which　large　white　eyeballs　struck　a
note　of　hatred。　　And　what　she　seemed　to　see　in　it；　confronting　her；　were
the　hatred　and　despair　of　her　own　soul！　　The　man　might　have　been　a
Hungarian　or　a　Pole；　the　breadth　of　his　chin　was　accentuated　by　a　wide；
black　moustache；　his　attitude　was　tense；that　of　a　maddened　beast　ready
to　spring　at　the　soldier　in　front　of　him。　　He　was　plainly　one　of　those
who　had　reached　the　mental　limit　of　endurance。

In　contrast　with　this　foreigner；　confronting　him；　a　young　lieutenant
stood　motionless；　his　head　cocked　on　one　side；　his　hand　grasping　the　club
held　a　little　behind　him；　his　glance　meeting　the　other's　squarely；　but
with　a　different　quality　of　defiance。　　All　his　faculties　were　on　the
alert。　　He　wore　no　overcoat；　and　the　uniform　fitting　close　to　his　figure；
the　broad…brimmed　campaign　hat　of　felt　served　to　bring　into　relief　the
physical　characteristics　of　the　American　Anglo…Saxon；　of　the
individualist　who　became　the　fighting　pioneer。　　But　Janet；　save　to
register　the　presence　of　the　intense　antagonism　between　the　two；　scarcely
noticed　her　fellow　countryman。。。。　　Every　moment　she　expected　to　see　the
black　man　spring；and　yet　movement　would　have　marred　the　drama　of　that
consuming　hatred。。。。

Then；　by　one　of　those　bewildering；　kaleidoscopic　shifts　to　which　crowds
are　subject；　the　scene　changed；　more　troops　arrived；　little　by　little　the
people　were　dispersed　to　drift　together　again　by　chancein　smaller
numbersseveral　blocks　away。　　Perhaps　a　hundred　and　fifty　were　scattered
over　the　space　formed　by　the　intersection　of　two　streets；　where　three　or
four　special　policemen　with　night　sticks　urged　them　on。　　Not　a　riot；　or
anything　approaching　it。　　The　police　were　jeered；　but　the　groups；
apparently；　had　already　begun　to　scatter；　when　from　the　triangular
vestibule　of　a　saloon　on　the　corner　darted　a　flame　followed　by　an　echoing
report；　a　woman　bundled　up　in　a　shawl　screamed　and　sank　on　the　snow。　　For
an　instant　the　little　French…Canadian　policeman　whom　the　shot　had　missed
gazed　stupidly　down　at　her。。。。

As　Janet　ran　along　the　dark　pavements　the　sound　of　the　shot　and　of　the
woman's　shriek　continued　to　ring　in　her　ears。　　At　last　she　stopped　in
front　of　the　warehouse　beyond　Mr。　Tiernan's　shop；　staring　at　the　darkened
windows　of　the　flatof　the　front　room　in　which　her　mother　now　slept
alone。　　For　a　minute　she　stood　looking　at　these　windows；　as　though
hypnotized　by　some　message　they　conveyedthe　answer　to　a　question
suggested　by　the　incident　that　had　aroused　and　terrified　her。　　They　drew
her；　as　in　a　trance；　across　the　street；　she　opened　the　glass…panelled
door；　remembering　mechanically　the　trick　it　had　of　not　quite　closing；
turned　and　pushed　it　to　and　climbed　the　stairs。　　In　the　diningroom　the
metal　lamp；　brightly　polished；　was　burning　as　usual；　its　light　falling　on
the　chequered　red　table…cloth；　on　her　father's　empty　chair；　on　that
somewhat　battered　heirloom；　the　horsehair　sofa。　　All　was　so　familiar；　and
yet　so　amazingly　unfamiliar；　so　silent！　　At　this　time　Edward　should　be
reading　the　Banner；　her　mother　bustling　in　and　out；　setting　the　table　for
supper。　　But　not　a　dish　was　set。　　The　ticking　of　the　ancien