I'm very well aware that my affair's clear enough as
they've found that bradawl and know me. All the same, it would be silly
of me to help them in their work. Still, they'd better make haste, for
I've almost had enough of being tracked like a wild beast and no longer
knowing how I live."
Janzen, yielding to curiosity, had ceased turning over the leaves of the
picture book and was looking at Salvat. There was a smile of disdain in
the Anarchist leader's cold eyes; and in his usual broken French he
remarked: "A man fights and defends himself, kills others and tries to
avoid being killed himself. That's warfare."
These words fell from his lips amidst deep silence. Salvat, however, did
not seem to have heard them, but stammered forth his faith in a long
sentence laden with fulsome expressions, such as the sacrifice of his
life in order that want might cease, and the example of a great action,
in the certainty that it would inspire other heroes to continue the
struggle. And with this certainly sincere faith and illuminism of his
there was blended a martyr's pride, delight at being one of the radiant,
worshipped saints of the dawning Revolutionary Church.
As he had come so he went off. When Janzen had led him away, it seemed as
if the night which had brought him had carried him back into its
impenetrable depths.
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