They were surrounded by
about a hundred business men, Government officials and students, who
attacked them with passionate argument and epithet. The soldiers
were uncomfortable and hurt, like children unjustly scolded.
A tall young man with a supercilious expression, dressed in the
uniform of a student, was leading the attack.
"You realise, I presume," he said insolently, "that by taking up
arms against your brothers you are making your-selves the tools of
murderers and traitors?"
"Now brother,"answered the soldier earnestly, "you don't understand.
There are two classes, don't you see, the proletariat and the
bourgeoisie. We--"
"Oh, I know that silly talk!" broke in the student rudely. "A bunch
of ignorant peasants like you hear somebody bawling a few
catch-words. You don't understand what they mean. You just echo them
like a lot of parrots." The crowd laughed. "I'm a Marxian student.
And I tell you that this isn't Socialism you are fighting for. It's
just plain pro-German anarchy!"
"Oh, yes, I know," answered the soldier, with sweat dripping from
his brow. "You are an educated man, that is easy to see, and I am
only a simple man. But it seems to me--"
"I suppose," interrupted the other contemptuously, "that you believe
Lenin is a real friend of the proletariat?"
"Yes, I do," answered the soldier, suffering.
"Well, my friend, do you know that Lenin was sent through Germany in
a closed car? Do you know that Lenin took money from the Germans?"
"Well, I don't know much about that," answered the soldier
stubbornly, "but it seems to me that what he says is what I want to
hear, and all the simple men like me.
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