按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
that so intensely interested her。 She felt that she was for the first time slackening rein upon those unconventional instincts； of unknown strength and purpose； which had been making her restless with their vague stirrings。
‘‘How silly of me！'' she thought。 ‘‘I'm doing a commonplace； rather common thingand I'm trying to make it seem a daring； romantic adventure。 I MUST be hard up for excitement！''
Toward the middle of the afternoon she dropped from her horse before the office of the New Day and gave a boy the bridle。 ‘‘I'll be back in a minute；'' she explained。 It was a two…story frame building； dingy and in disrepair。 On the street floor was a grocery。 Access to the New Day was by a rickety stairway。 As she ascended this； making a great noise on its unsteady boards with her boots； she began to feel cheap and foolish。 She recalled what Hull had said in the carriage。 ‘‘No doubt；'' replied she； ‘‘I'd feel much the same way if I were going to see Jesus Christa carpenter's son； sitting in some hovel； talking with his friends the fishermen and camel driversnot to speak of the women。''
The New Day occupied two small roomsan editorial work room； and a printing work room behind it。 Jane Hastings； in the doorway at the head of the stairs； was seeing all there was to see。 In the editorial room were two tableskitchen tables； littered with papers and journals； as was the floor； also。 At the table directly opposite the door no one was sitting ‘‘Victor Dorn's desk；'' Jane decided。 At the table by the open window sat a girl； bent over her writing。 Jane saw that the figure was below； probably much below； the medium height for woman； that it was slight and strong； that it was clad in a simple； clean gray linen dress。 The girl's black hair； drawn into a plain but distinctly graceful knot； was of that dense and wavy thickness which is a characteristic and a beauty of the Hebrew race。 The skin at the nape of her neck； on her hands； on her arms bare to the elbows was of a beautiful dead…whitethe skin that so admirably compliments dead…black hair。
Before disturbing this busy writer Jane glanced round。 There was nothing to detain her in the view of the busy printing plant in the room beyond。 But on the walls of the room before her were four pictures lithographs； cheap； not framed； held in place by a tack at each corner。 There was Washingtonthen Lincolnthen a copy of Leonardo's Jesus in the Last Supper frescoand a fourth face； bearded； powerful； imperious； yet wonderfully kind and good humored a face she did not know。 Pointing her riding stick at it she said：
‘‘And who is that？''
With a quick but not in the least a startled movement the girl at the table straightened her form； turned in her chair； saying； as she did so； without having seen the pointing stick：
‘‘That is MarxKarl Marx。''
Jane was so astonished by the face she was now seeingthe face of the girlthat she did not hear the reply。 The girl's hair and skin had reminded her of what Martha had told her about the Jewish； or half…Jewish； origin of Selma Gordon。 Thus； she assumed that she would see a frankly Jewish face。 Instead； the face looking at her from beneath the wealth of thick black hair； carelessly parted near the centre； was Russianwas Cossackstrange and primeval； intense； dark； as superbly alive as one of those exuberant tropical flowers that seem to cry out the mad joy of life。 Only； those flowers suggest the evanescent； the flame burning so fiercely that it must soon burn out； while this Russian girl declared that life was eternal。 You could not think of her as sick； as old； as anything but young and vigorous and vivid； as full of energy as a healthy baby that kicks its dresses into rags and wears out the strength of its strapping nurse。 Her nose was as straight as Jane's own particularly fine example of nose。 Her dark gray eyes； beneath long； slender； coal black lines of brow； were brimming with life and with fun。 She had a wide； frank； scarlet mouth； her teeth were small and sharp and regular； and of the strong and healthy shade of white。 She had a very small； but a very resolute chin。 With another quick； free movement she stood up。 She was indeed small； but formed in proportion。 She seemed out of harmony with her linen dress。 She looked as if she ought to be careening on the steppes in some romantic； half…savage costume。 Jane's first and instant thought was； ‘‘There's not another like her in the whole world。 She's the only living specimen of her kind。''
‘‘Gracious！'' exclaimed Jane。 ‘‘But you ARE healthy。''
The smile took full advantage of the opportunity to broaden into a laugh。 A most flattering expression of frank； childlike admiration came into the dark gray eyes。 ‘‘You're not sickly； yourself；'' replied Selma。 Jane was disappointed that the voice was not untamed Cossack； but was musically civilized。
‘‘Yes； but I don't flaunt it as you do；'' rejoined Jane。 ‘‘You'd make anyone who was the least bit off； furious。''
Selma； still with the child…like expression； but now one of curiosity； was examining Jane's masculine riding dress。 ‘‘What a sensible suit！'' she cried； delightedly。 ‘‘I'd wear something like that all the time； if I dared。''
‘‘Dared？'' said Jane。 ‘‘You don't look like the frightened sort。''
‘‘Not on account of myself；'' explained Selma。 ‘‘On account of the cause。 You see； we are fighting for a new idea。 So； we have to be careful not to offend people's prejudices about ideas not so important。 If we went in for everything that's sensible； we'd be regarded as cranks。 One thing at a time。''
Jane's glance shifted to the fourth picture。 ‘‘Didn't you say that wasKarl Marx？''
‘‘Yes。''
‘‘He wrote a book on political economy。 I tried to read it at college。 But I couldn't。 It was too heavy for me。 He was a Socialistwasn't he？the founder of Socialism？''
‘‘A great deal more than that；'' replied Selma。 ‘‘He was the most important man for human liberty that ever livedexcept perhaps one。'' And she looked at Leonardo's ‘‘man of sorrows and acquainted with grief。''
‘‘Marx was aa Hebrewwasn't he？''
Selma's eyes danced； and Jane felt that she was laughing at her hesitation and choice of the softer word。 Selma said：
‘‘Yeshe was a Jew。 Both were Jews。''
‘‘Both？'' inquired Jane； puzzled。
‘‘Marx and Jesus；'' explained Selma。
Jane was startled。 ‘‘So HE was a Jewwasn't He？''
‘‘And they were both labor leaderslabor agitators。 The first one proclaimed the brotherhood of man。 But he regarded this world as hopeless and called on the weary and heavy laden masses to look to the next world for the righting of their wrongs。 Theneighteen centuries aftercame that second Jew''Selma looked passionate； reverent admiration at the powerful； bearded face； so masterful； yet so kind‘‘and he said： ‘No！ not in the hereafter； but in the here。 Here and now； my brothers。 Let us make this world a heaven。 Let us redeem ourselves and destroy the devil of ignorance who is holding us in this hell。' It was three hundred years before that first Jew began to triumph。 It won't be so long before there are monuments to Marx in clean and beautiful and free cities all over the earth。''
Jan