Sven digital books

Until the middle of January Rudolph had not been able to get him to
one of his incendiary meetings. Then one cold night while Anna
sewed by the lamp inside the little house, Rudolph and Herman walked
in the frozen garden, Herman with his pipe, Rudolph with the cheap
cigarets he used incessantly. Anna opened the door a crack and
listened at first. She was watchful of Rudolph, always, those days.
But the subject was not Anna.
"You think we get in, then?" Herman asked.
"Sure."
"But for what?"
"So 'Spencers' can make more money out of it," said Rudolph bitterly.
"And others like them. But they and their kind don't do the dying.
It's the workers that go and die. Look at Germany!"
"Yes. It is so in Germany."
"All this talk about democracy - that's bunk. Just plain bunk.
Why should the workers in this country kill the workers in another?
Why? To make money for capital - more money."
"Ja," Herman assented. "That is what war is. Always the same. I
came here to get away from war.


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