MEET ME ON THE BARRICADES

“No, as a matter of fact,” Darrell said, “I think it was a good speech. But I’m tired of radical speeches no matter how good they are, because they all lean rather heavily on blind faith and I’m beyond that sort of thing.” He spoke without inflection, bored. “Besides, I’ve heard it all so often before.”

Ascaso shrugged his shoulders and turned to Simp- son.

“There’s no magic formula by which fascism can be defeated.” Then, to Darrell: “But at the same time my confidence is not based on blind faith. [To Simpson agaz'n.] Think of this! In 1916, when all the world was at war, one would have been called insane had he predicted that a new social order would soon emerge from the bloody battlefields of Europe. Still, only one year later Russian Czarism collapsed and the Soviets, under the leadership of Lenin and Trotsky, were established. It will happen again, but this time the revolution will do a more thorough job. To believe otherwise is to believe that the barbarism of fascism will remain with us forever, and that is unthinkable.” He paused and then added simply: “I’ve nothing more to say.”

“I hope you’re right,” the newspaperman said, “but the odds are all against you—against us all.”

Ascaso merely smiled but said nothing.

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