The Government will do nothing."
"I wish they would kill every one of them," broke in the girl who was
engaged to the lieutenant. "Think of it! Firing on soldiers! They are
bandits."
"Yes, and with such a king as we have!" exclaimed the fat lady, with the
paraffine hue, in a mournful tone. "It has ruined our summer. I wish
they would shoot every one of them."
"And they are not the only ones," interrupted the father. "The men who
are behind them, the writers and leaders, hide themselves, and then they
throw the first stones."
Upon entering the house, I found that the final proofs of my book had
just arrived from the printer, and sat down to read them.
The words of that family from Madrid still rang in my ears: "I wish they
would kill every one of them!"
However one may feel, I thought to myself, it is impossible not to hate
such people. Such people are natural enemies. It is inevitable.
Now, reading over the proofs of my book, it seems to me that it is not
strident enough. I could wish it were more violent, more anti-middle
class.
I no longer hear the voice of prudence seducing me, as it did a few days
since, to a palinode in complicity with a romantic morning of white
mist.
The zest of combat, of adventure stirs in me again.
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