It was now dark, and the stars blazed down upon the never-resting city,
with its sinister record of outrages and crimes, and its charm which
was as the alluring of some wild gypsy queen.
Men fleeing from the justice or vengeance of their own country could
find here a City of Refuge. Here the tide of life ran swiftly, and
churches and cruelty walked hand in hand, and Hate trod close upon the
heels of Love.
Here no man's life was safe, for from time to time an epidemic of bomb
throwing would break out. Infernal machines would be hurled in an
apparently purposeless fashion wherever there was a large gathering of
people in street or square. A few policemen, soldiers, or onlookers
would be killed or mutilated, and a panic created, but few arrests were
ever made. The whole of the Press would unite to lift up its voice in
an indignant appeal to the Government, and then everything would be
forgotten till the next explosion. People in Barcelona lived from day
to day and accepted lawlessness as a matter of course.
Emile's own particular circle had no hand in these promiscuous
destructions of life.
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