class, and they should be fought without mercy. If they have any power with the poor and weak, they frighten and tyrannize them till they too become the same. If they are poor and weak themselves, they give up the struggle, and make their way by begging and flattering—or plundering if they have an opportunity.
"No, the ideal is a community governed by upper-class individuals, for they never fight for themselves; they know their own endless resources, and they give with open hands to those who are poorer. They endeavour to bring light and air to every possibility for good and beauty in the inferior souls—those who are neither this nor that; good when they can afford it, bad when the proletariat forces them to be so. The power should be in the hands of those who feel the responsibility for every good impulse that is killed."
"You are wrong about Hans Hermann," said Cesca quietly. "It was not for his own sake alone that he rebelled against social injustice. He, too, spoke of the good impulses that were wasted. When we walked about it the east end and saw the pale little children, he said he would like to set fire to the ugly, sad, crowded barracks where they lived."
"Mere talk. If the rent had been paid to him.…"
"For shame, Gunnar!" said Cesca impetuously.
"All the same he would not have been a socialist if he had been born rich—but still a true proletarian."
"Are you sure you would have been a socialist yourself," said Cesca, "if you had been born a count, for instance?"
"Mr. Heggen is a count," said Hjerrild, laughing, "of many airy castles."
Heggen sat silent for a minute. "I have never felt I was born poor," he said, speaking as if to himself.
"As to Hermann's love for children," said Hjerrild, "there was not much of it for his own child. And the way he treated
