He that toils not, neither shall he eat, and they that grow
fat upon the blood of the people--they shall grow lean again."
"Now what do you think o' that?" demanded the guardian of authority.
"If that ain't regular Bolsheviki talk, then I'm dopy. I'll bet the
captain don't stand much more of that."
Fortunately the captain's endurance was not put to the test. The
orator had reached the climax of his eloquence. "The kingdom of
righteousness is at hand. The word will be spoken, the way will be
made clear. Meantime, my people, I bid you go your way in peace. Let
there be no more disturbance, to bring upon you the contempt of
those who do not understand your troubles, nor share the heartbreak
of the poor. My people, take my peace with you!" He stretched out
his arms in invocation, and there was a murmur of applause, and the
crowd began slowly to disperse.
Which seemed to remind my friend the policeman that he had authority
to exercise. He began to poke his stick into the humped backs of
poor Jewish tailors, and into the ample stomachs of fat Jewish
housewives.
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