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"Boris, what is it you want?"

"To talk"--surprised at this unexpected outburst

"No, no I s?"

Karlov was ready at all times to expound the theories that appealed to

his dark yet simple mind--hutiive the proletariat what is his"

"Ha!" said the little man on the cot "What is his?"

"That which capitalism has taken away from him"

"The proletariat The lowest in the human scale--and therefore the most

helpless They shall rule, say you My poor Russia! Beaten and robbed

for centuries, and now betrayed by a handful of madmen--with brains

atrophied on one side! You are a fool, Boris Your feet are in strange

quicksands and your head a chimeras You write some words on a piece

of paper, and lo! you say they are facts Without first proving your

theories correct you would ram them down the throat of the world The

world rejects you"

"Wait and see, daeoisie!" thundered Karlov, not alive to the

fact that he was being baited