The Witness by Grace Livingston Hill Lutz (mobi reader android TXT) 📕

With A Sense Of Something Stronger Than He Was Back Of Him,  He Lifted

His Own Chin And Hardened His Eyes In Answering Challenge. He Did Not

Know It,  Of Course,  But He Wore The Look That He Always Had When About

To Meet A Foe In A Game--A Look Of Strength And Concealed Power That

Nearly Always Made The Coming Foe Quake When He Saw It.

He Shrank From Going Back To That Red Room Again,  Or From Being Alone

With Her; And When She Would Have Had Him Return To The Library He

Declined,  Urging Studies And An Examination On The Morrow. She Received

His Somewhat Brusque Reply With A Hurt Look,  Her Mouth Drooped

Grievedly,  And Her Eyes Took On A Wide,  Child-Like Look Of Distress That

Gave An Impression Of Innocence. He Went Away Wondering If,  After All,

He Had Not Misjudged Her. Perhaps She Was Only An Adorable Child Who Had

No Idea Of The Effect Her Artlessness Had Upon Men. She Certainly Was

Lovely--Wonderful! And Yet The Last Glimpse He Had Of Her Had Left That

Impression Of Jeweled Horns And Scarlet,  Pointed Toes. He Had To Get

Away And Think It Out Calmly Before He Went Again. Oh Yes,  He Was Going

_Again_. He Had Promised Her At The Last Moment.

The Sense Of Having Escaped Something Fateful Was Passing Already. The

Coolness Of The Night And The Quiet Of The Starlight Had Calmed Him. He

Thought He Had Been A Fool Not To Have Stayed A Little Longer When She

Asked Him So Prettily; And He Must Go Soon Again.

"I Think I'll Go To Church This Morning,  Nelly. Do You Want To Go

Along?" Announced Courtland,  The Next Morning.

Tennelly Looked Up Aghast From The Sporting Page Of The Morning Paper He

Was Lazily Reading.

"Go With Him,  Nelly,  That's A Good Boy!" Put In Bill Ward,  Agreeably,

Winking His Off Eye At Tennelly. "It'll Do You Good. I'd Go With You,

Only I've Got To Get That Condition Made Up Or They'll Fire Me Off The

'Varsity,  And I Only Need This One More Game To Get My Letter."

"Go To Thunder!" Growled Tennelly. "What Do You Think I Want To Go To

Church For A Morning Like This? Court,  You're Crazy! Let's Go And Get

Two Saddle-Horses And Ride In The Park. It's A Peach Of A Morning For A

Ride."

"I Think I'll Go To Church," Said Courtland,  With His Old Voice Of Quiet

Decision. "Do You Want To Go Or Not?"

There Was Something About Courtland's Voice,  And The Way Bill Ward Kept

Up Winking His Off Eye,  That Subdued Tennelly.

"Sure,  I'll Go," He Growled,  Reluctantly.

"You Old Crab,  You," Chirped Bill,  Cheerfully,  When Courtland Had Gone

Out. "Can't You See You've Got To Humor Him? He Needs Homeopathic

Treatment. 'Like Cures Like.' Give Him A Good Dose Of Religion And He'll

Get Good And Tired Of It. Church Won't Hurt Him Any,  Just Give Him A

Good,  Pious Feeling So He'll Feel Free To Do As He Pleases During The

Week. I Had A 'Phone From Gila This Morning. She Says He's Made Anoiratory Movements That This Should Be So,  And Also That It Should

Result In Saturating The Minds Of All Engaged In The Movements With

Distrust And Suspicion. More Than Once The Charge Of Being A Provocateur

Was Leveled At Lenine And At Trotzky,  But Without Justification,

Apparently. There Was,  Indeed,  One Incident Which Placed Lenine In A Bad

Light. It Belongs To A Somewhat Later Period Than We Have Been Discussing,

But It Serves Admirably To Illustrate Conditions Which Obtained Throughout

The Whole Dark Period Between The Two Great Revolutions. One Of Lenine's

Close Friends And Disciples Was Roman Malinovsky,  A Fiery Speaker Of

Considerable Power,  Distinguished For His Bitter Attacks Upon The Bourgeois

Progressive Parties And Upon The Mensheviki. The Tenor Of His Speeches Was

Always The Same--Only The Interest Of The Proletariat Should Be Considered;

All Bourgeois Political Parties And Groups Were Equally Reactionary,  And

Any Co-Operation With Them,  For Any Purpose,  Was A Betrayal Of Socialist

Principle.

Malinovsky Was Trusted By The Bolsheviki. He Was Elected To The Fourth

Duma,  Where He Became The Leader Of The Little Group Of Thirteen Social

Democrats. Like Other Members Of The Bolshevik Faction,  He Entered The

Duma,  Despite His Contempt For Parliamentary Action,  Simply Because It

Afforded Him A Useful Opportunity For Agitation And Demonstrations. In The

Duma He Assailed Even A Portion Of The Social Democratic Group As Belonging

To The Bourgeoisie,  Succeeding In Splitting It In Two Factions And Becoming

The Leader Of The Bolshevik Faction,  Numbering Six. This Blatant Demagogue,

Whom Lenine Called "The Russian Bebel," Was Proposed For Membership In The

International Socialist Bureau,  The Supreme Council Of The International

Socialist Movement,  And Would Have Been Sent As A Delegate To That Body As

A Representative Of Russian Socialist Movement But For The Discovery Of The

Fact That He Was A Secret Agent Of The Czar's Government!

It Was Proved That Malinovsky Was A Provocateur In The Pay Of The Police

Department,  And That Many,  If Not All,  Of His Speeches Had Been Prepared

For Him In The Police Department By A Former Director Named Beletzky. The

Exposure Made A Great Sensation In Russian Socialist Circles At The Time,

And The Fact That It Was Nikolai Lenine Who Had Proposed That Malinovsky Be

Chosen To Sit In The International Socialist Bureau Naturally Caused A

Great Deal Of Unfriendly Comment. It Cannot Be Denied That The Incident

Placed Lenine In An Unfavorable Light,  But It Must Be Admitted That

Nothing Developed To Suggest That He Was Guilty Of Anything More Serious

Than Permitting Himself To Be Outwitted And Deceived By A Cunning

Trickster. The Incident Serves To Show,  However,  The Ease With Which The

Extreme Fanaticism Of The Bolsheviki Played Into The Hands Of The

Autocracy.

Vii

While Bolsheviki And Mensheviki Wrangled And Disputed,  Great Forces Were At

Work Among The Russian People. By 1910 The Terrible Pall Of Depression And

Despair Which Had Settled Upon The Nation As A Result Of The Failure Of The

First Revolution Began To Break. There Was A New Generation Of College

Students,  Youthful And Optimistic Spirits Who Were Undeterred By The

Failure Of 1905-06,  Confident That They Were Wiser And Certain To Succeed.

Also There Had Been An Enormous Growth Of Working-Class Organizations,

Large Numbers Of Unions And Co-Operative Societies Having Been Formed In

Spite Of The Efforts Of The Government. The Soul Of Russia Was Once More

Stirring.

The End Of 1910 And The Beginning Of 1911 Witnessed A New Series Of

Strikes,  Such As Had Not Occurred Since 1905. The First Were Students'

Strikes,  Inaugurated In Support Of Their Demand For The Abolition Of

Capital Punishment. These Were Quickly Followed By Important Strikes In The

Industrial Centers For Economic Ends--Better Wages And Shorter

Working-Hours. As In The Period Immediately Preceding The First Revolution,

The Industrial Unrest Soon Manifested Itself In Political Ways. Without Any

Conscious Leade The University They Met Gila Dare. Gila All In Gray

Like A Dove,  Gray Suit Of Soft,  Rich Cloth,  Gray Furs Of The Depth And

Richness Of Smoke,  Gray Suede Boots Laced High To Meet Her Brief Gray

Skirts,  Silver Hat With A Single Velvet Rose On The Brim To Match The

Soft Rose-Bloom On Her Cheeks. Gila With Eyes As Wide And Innocent As A

Baby's,  Cupid Mouth Curved Sweetly In A Gracious,  Shy Smile,  And Dainty

Little Prayer-Book Done In Gray Suede Held Devoutly In Her Little Gloved

Hand.

"Who's That?" Growled Tennelly,  Admiringly,  When They Had Passed A

Suitable Distance.

"Why,  That's Bill Ward's Cousin,  Gila Dare," Announced Courtland,

Graciously. He Was Still Basking In The Pleasure Of Her Smile,  And

Thinking How Different She Looked From Last Evening In This Soft,  Gray,

Silvery Effect. Yes,  He Had Misjudged Her. A Girl Who Could Look Like

That Must Be Sweet And Pure And Unspoiled. It Had Been That Unfortunate

Dress Last Night That Had Reminded Him Unpleasantly Of The Scarlet Woman

And The Awful Night Of The Fire. If He Ever Got Well Enough Acquainted

He Would Ask Her Never To Wear Red Again; It Made Her Appear Sensual;

And Even She,  Delicate And Sweet As She Was,  Could Not Afford To Cast A

Thought Like That Into The Minds Of Her Beholders. It Was Then He Began

To Idealize Gila.

"Gila Dare!" Tennelly Straightened Up And Took Notice. So That Was The

Invincible Gila! That Little Soft-Eyed Exquisite Thing With The Hair

Like A Midnight Cloud.

"Some Looker!" He Commented,  Approvingly,  And Wished He Were In

Courtland's Shoes.

"She's Got In Her Work All Right," He Commented To Himself. "Old Court's

Fallen Already. Guess I'll Have To Buy A Straw Hat,  It'll Be More

Edible."

Courtland Was Like His Gay Old Self When He Got Back To The Dormitory.

He Joked A Great Deal. His Eyes Were Bright And His Color Better Than It

Had Been Since He Was Sick. He Said Nothing About The Morning Service,

And By And By Bill Ward Ventured A Question: "What Kind Of A Harangue

Did You Hear This Morning?"

"Rotten!" He Answered,  Promptly,  And Turned Away. Somehow That Question

Recalled Him To The Uneasiness Within His Soul For Which He Had Sought

Solace In The Church Service. He Became Silent Again,  And,  Strolling

Away Into Stephen's Room And Closing The Door,  Sat Down.

There Was Something Strange About That Room. The Presence Seemed Always

To Be There. It Hadn't Made Itself Felt In The Church At All,  As He Had

Half Hoped It Would. He Had Taken Tennelly With Him Because He Wanted

Something Tangible,  Friendly,  Sane,  From The World He Knew,  To Give Him

Ballast. If The Presence Had Been In The Church,  With Tennelly By His