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i so the miracles of* antichrist
could have come, he had wasted his happiness. His
ideas and principles seemed to him now dry
spider-webs, which had caught him. He wanted to
extricate himself in order to reach her. She alone was
reality, the only thing that was his. Thus he had
felt of yore. It came back to him now. She was all
he had in the world.
" Nevertheless they fight in Paterno to-day."
"There’s been a brawl at the city-gate," he said.
" That’s nothing. Had I been able to set fire to the
whole of Etna, to the whole wreath of cities
encircling Etna, then, perhaps, we had been understood.
One would have listened to us. Now only a lot of
peasants are shot down to lessen the number of
hungry mouths. Not a single concession is made us."
He pulled at his spider-web. Should he dare to
approach her, tell her that all this was of no
consequence to him ? What need had he to think of
politics? He was an artist, he was free. And he
wanted her.
At that moment the air seemed to vibrate. A
shot rang through the night, then one more, so
another.
She came up to him and seized his wrist. " Is this
the insurrection?" she asked. Shot after shot
boomed. Then was heard the cries and clamor of a
crowd of people rushing down the street.
" It’s the insurrection, it must be the insurrection!
Ah, long live socialism ! "
He was filled with exultation. All his faith in his
cause came back. Her too, he would win. Women
have never refused to belong to the victor.
Without a word further the two hurried through
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