Callous of suffering in others, he was equally indifferent to it
for himself, and if he did not spare his tools he also slaved
incessantly day and night.
The large bare room in which he sat possessed very little furniture and
no signs of comfort. There were a quantity of books piled on the floor
and mantelpiece, and the centre space was filled by an enormous bureau
heaped with a mass of printed and written papers, for besides his
extensive correspondence he was part-editor of one of the Anarchist
journals, which he enlivened by daring and sarcastic contributions.
The fragment of the letter that Arithelli had dropped, lay open in
front of him. He read it through again and smiled to himself.
"I'll give up even the Cause for your sake," Vardri had written.
"Seeing how these men have made you suffer has changed my views. There
must be something wrong about our ideas if they produce this cruelty to
women. Sobrenski and the others are killing you slowly. I wanted
struggle and excitement at one time, and whether it meant Life or Death
it was all the same.
Pages:
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279