At a corner where the trams and buses stopped she lingered for a while,
watching the fierce struggle; the weak and aged being pushed back time
after time, hardly seeming to even resent it, regarding it as in the
natural order of things. It was so absurd, apart from the injustice, the
brutality of it! The poor, fighting among themselves! She felt as once
when watching a crowd of birds to whom she had thrown a handful of crumbs
in winter time. As if they had not enemies enough: cats, weasels, rats,
hawks, owls, the hunger and the cold. And added to all, they must needs
make the struggle yet harder for one another: pecking at each other's
eyes, joining with one another to attack the fallen. These tired men,
these weary women, pale-faced lads and girls, why did they not organize
among themselves some system that would do away with this daily warfare
of each against all. If only they could be got to grasp the fact that
they were one family, bound together by suffering. Then, and not till
then, would they be able to make their power felt? That would have to
come first: the _Esprit de Corps_ of the Poor.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98