“Ah, you men!” cried Father Danny, at last unable to restrain himself. “Did ye but know that this grand nation is wholly dependent on such as you, its common people! Not on the rich, I say, the handful that own its mills and mines, but on you who work them for your rich masters! But then, ye’re so ignorant!”
“Don’t, Father!” pleaded Carmen, “don’t! They have suffered so much!”
“Ah, lass, it’s but love that I’m dealin’ out to ’em, God knows! And yet, it’s they that are masters of the situation, only they don’t know it! There’s the pity! They’ve no leaders, except such as waste their money and leave ’em in the ditch! The world’s social schemes, Miss Carmen, don’t reach such as these. They’re only sops. And they’ve got the contempt of the wage-earners.”
“The Church, Father, could do much for these people, if––”
“Don’t hesitate, Miss Carmen. You mean, if we didn’t give all our thought to the rich, eh? But still, it’s wholly up to the people themselves, after all. And, mark me, when they do rise, why, such men as Ames won’t know what’s hit ’em!”
The door was thrown violently open at that moment, and a squad of soldiers under the command of a lieutenant entered.
Carmen and Father Danny rose and faced them. The mill hands stood like stone images, their faces black with suppressed rage. The lieutenant halted his men, and then advanced to the girl.
“Is a woman named Carmen Ariza here?” he demanded rudely.
“I am she,” replied the fearless girl.
“Come with us,” he said in a rough voice.