right to life, about the conflicts of the German peasants in the olden
times, about the misfortunes of the Irish, about the great exploits of
the workingmen of France in their frequent battling for freedom.

In the forest clothed in the velvet of night, in the little glade
bounded by the dumb trees, before the sportive face of the fire, the
events that shook the world rose to life again; one nation of the earth
after the other passed in review, drained of its blood, exhausted by
combats; the names of the great soldiers for freedom and truth were
recalled.

The somewhat dull voice of the woman seemed to echo softly from the
remoteness of the past. It aroused hope, it carried conviction; and
the company listened in silence to its music, to the great story of
their brethren in spirit. They looked into her face, lean and pale,
and smiled in response to the smile of her gray eyes. Before them the
cause of all the people of the world, the endless war for freedom and
equality, became more vivid and assumed a greater holiness. They saw
their desires and thoughts in the distance, overhung with the dark,
bloody curtain of the past, amid strangers unknown to them; and
inwardly, both in mind and heart, they became united with the world,
seeing in it friends even in olden times, friends who had unanimously
resolved to obtain right upon the earth, and had consecrated their
resolve with measureless suffering, and shed rivers of their own blood.
With this blood, mankind dedicated itself to a new life, bright and
cheerful. A feeling arose and grew of the spiritual nearness of each
unto each. A new heart was born on the earth, full of hot striving to
embrace all and to unite all in itself.

"A day is coming when the workingmen of all countries will raise their
heads, and firmly declare, 'Enough! We want no more of this life.'"
Sofya's low but powerful voice rang with assurance. "And then the
fantastic power of those who are mighty by their greed will crumble;
the earth will vanish from under their feet, and their support will be
gone."

"That's how it will be," said Rybin, bending his head. "Don't pity
yourselves, and you will conquer everything."

The men listened in silence, motionless, endeavoring in no way to break
the even flow of the narrative, fearing to cut the bright thread that
bound them to the world. Only occasionally some one would carefully
put a piece of wood in the fire, and when a stream of sparks and smo