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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