The Daily Worker Newspaper, July 12, 1924, Page 11

MARIE. (Continued from last week.) 3 During the long days that we spent under way with the “etape,” Marie. did not drop a single word concerning herself. We only learned that she came from a peasant family, had been a teacher in a petty govern- ment school in the province of Pol- tava and was a Social Revolutionist. The emaciated, little peasant horses carried us briskly forward thru de- serts of snow. In spite of all wrap- pings and precautions the smothering northern frosts played havoc with us, penetrating every limb and pore of our bodies. Some of our comrades suffered from frostbitten ears, hands and toes, and we frequently heard agonized moanings from the narrow sleighs of our little caravan. Marie never complained; wrapped up in a heavy peasant’s fur-skin with a crude shawl over her head and in heavy woolen boots, she only showed to the world a pair of big, black eyes which shed warmth and light on all of us. Occasionally, when the sufferings from the cold would get the best of any of us, Marie would come to his as- sistancte~with words of courage and consolation. The soldiers that guarded us, them- selves peasants from the Volhynia, had a particular regard for our Marie, and hailed her as “barishnia.” A word from her was at times sufficient to make them treat all the other po- liticals with more deference. We had among us a Grousinian, a child of balmy Caucasia, who* suffered from the frosts more than the rest of us. One night, after we found lodgings in a tiny village; our poor Caucasian fell, benumbed in every limb, upon the dirty flooring of our “hotel.” Marie spent a whole sleepless night near him, and upon her order the sol- _ diers brought in some clean straw to place our ailing comrade and a samo- var with boiling water. Some of them even walked two versts to a near-by village that had a drug store for some frost-cures at her request, and did this errand bral grumbling and with complete otion. As she sat at the Caucasian’s sick “bed,” Marie did not miss the oppor- tunity of a heart-to-heart talk with the soldiers of our convoy. The talk was an eye-opener to all of them; and all of us attracted, left our cots and sat by listening to her. It seemed as if we were again back home, at 4. propaganda meeting, somewhere on the outskirts of the town, hidden be- hind the usual old ruins. One of the soldiers kept on throwing logs into the big, old oven that occupied nearly half of the house. The heat was pleasant and soothing, and soon there appeared, from God knows where, bottles of beer. The evening wound up with the soldiers embracing every- one of us and calling us “comrades.” Marie’s face shone with happiness, and she appeared so wonderfully beautiful in the strange, wierd back- ground of the spacious hut that we could not take our eyes away from her. There sat before us a true Ma- donna, a saintly creature. The sick Grousinian grasped her hand worship- fully several times, while she patted his curly hair inquiring: “How do you claration, yet in spite of party ‘fana- ticism their attitude towards Marie did not change. The Grousinian, who was a Social Democrat, overflowing with enthusiasm, kisagdy her before everybody, and we all felt so amused by that incident that party affiliations were forgotten for the time being. Marie led in the merry making. She sang and even danced and finally at her suggesteion we all went to the big forest to throw snowballs at one another. The scorching frost and the bone-dry winter air held everything around us as in the grasp of death. Not a twig: er bough moved upon the stately trees of the great forest, and only our steps were heard crunching the icy, glistening snow. The deep blue, starry heavens looked dreamily upon the forsaken, little Siberian city, as we walked ahead in a brisk, lively step led by our Marie. When we reached the forest, Marie was first to shed her heavy winter wraps, and dressed only in her usual black shirt and embroidered blouse, proceeded to pelt us right and left with snow. We did our best to com- bat the attack, but were no match for her. She ran like a gazelle all around us and appearing where she was least expected, showered us with snow balls at every turn. We soon forgot about the cold and raced about in the (OUT OF THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST ) By Schachno Epstein. us politicalg grew in purity and sin- cerity because of Marie’s influence. She always counseled against party fights and. carried her point invari- ably. “Why fight amongst ourselves, why scrap and dicker?” she would appeal. “We are all revolutionists, we are all striving for one goal, so icy air, straining every muscle to land'| what difference does it really make a ball at the elusive, graceful girl who was pelting us mercilessly. So the moments fled and as we all wended our way homeward, our thoughts were full of Marie. 5. Marie’s entrance into the Social- Democratic group at once put an end to the bickerings and factional fights in our colony. ists at first felt somewhat hurt by the loss of Marie’s party affiliation, but she was such a precious asset to whether I follow Marx or Michail- ovsky?” Marie devoted a great deal of her time to the exiled peasants. She would read to them aloud and teach them how to read and write. She even made clothes for their children and instructed their women in _ better housekeeping. She was apt and handy The Social Revolution-| at everything, and whatever she did was done skillfully and rapidly. Her own little hut was a model of cleanli- ness and good taste, and every nook all of us, in fact we could not con-|and corner spoke of her artistic soul ceive of living without her, that they quickly forgave her. She became the central point of the entire colony, and the ties of friendship between all of A RED FANTASIA By ERIC VERNEY. Clang, clang, clang— The turbines rattled; Clang, crash— And Jack, machine-minder Grimly battled With sleep. Crash— He was on the night shift. Clang, crash— And out of the East came a Red Star Thru the air, thru the skylight From afar; Crash, clang— Red star emblazoned on a quaint spiked hat Worn by a stranger, who said to Jack: “IT am a Red Army man.” And he asked: - “Have you ever heard Of those giants who gave their lives To the Revolution?— Thinking, writing, planning, leading— Sacrificing, only heeding The Revolution? Such as these were Marx and Lenin, Wheir disciples Sverdloff, Mehring, John Reed, Lefebvre, and many more; »JHave you ever heard Of those martyrs who gave their lives For the Revolution— Working, fighting, guiding, dying At their posts, crying: “Long live the Revolution!” Such as these.were Liebknecht, Rosa Luxembourg. . Kingisepp and Samuelly, Volodarsky and Yuritzky, And also Vatseslav Vorovsky ..,. Clang, crash, clang— And Jack, Disturbed by all these strange sounding names, Wondered... > “Did you ever hear Of the million heroes Who fought, suffered, and bled without a fear; Who struggled five long years On Russia's blood-stained snows For the Revolution... Or of the glorious victims of the Class War On other fronts, o died in mine or shop or mill, Or starved to death—“unemployed,” Or hunger struck in goal For the Revolution? and inclinations. No one ever saw her downcast and whenever bad tid- ings were received from the far-away, home, we invariably went to Marie and were sure to come away from her in better spirits and with stronger faith in the cause which was dear and sacred to all of us. But after all, Marie was a puzzle and mystery to all of us _politicals. We could not understand from what source this pale, little girl drew her inexhaustible energy, her life and courage. We often questioned our- selves: “Who is she, this charmer of our hearts and minds? What is her past, is there anyone whom she loves not merely with the love of a sister, but as a woman?” Our curi- osity was, however, never gratified, for her life was still a sealed book to us, and quite naturally our interest in her grew even more intense be- cause of that. Week after week passed. One just like the other, and if it had not been for Marie, the dreadful monotony of life would have been unbearable, Heaven knows where it would have led us to. Each of us was in the grip of an irresistible desire to break away from the curse of the exile and to taste again the air and freedom of the great wide world. We frequent- ly talked to Marie about getting, away, but she always managed to side track the conversation, and we soon realized that it was a painful subject for her to talk about. We wondered how she, with her free, en- ergetic nature could endure life in this cold cage. But it was fate, and prudence and reason counselled sub- mission, and to those of us who com- Plained louder than the rest, Marie had one reply: “Don’t worry, broth- er, better times are coming, just wait and you'll see!” With the first rays of the spring sun, Marie underwent a visible trans- formation. She was still the same lively girl that we all knew and loved, yet there had appeared something about her that spoke of a deep change. Shadows occasionally visited her bright, little face, and in such moments she would whisper Nadson’s melancholy songs, and stare uncon- sciously into the great void like a startled dove. We never inquired of her the cause of her depression, and attributed it to the influence of spring, which awak- ens in all young hearts a quiet yearn- ing for the uncertain and unattain- able. The arctic spring appeared to us like the pale smile of a sick child. The flora is stili covered with heavy snows and everything is still breath- ing the rigor of winter. But occa- sionally a sun ray finds bis way thru |the gray sky walls, and suddenly you discover with amazement the rippling of an unfettered’ streamlet, or the wonder sight of a few blades of grass. While the nights are still long, pain- fully long, their darkness is not so deep and grows paler and more trans- parent. Soon the sun becomes more generous and the veil of night be- comes thinner, a harbinger of the white nights to come, which rob yow (Continued on page 8)