"He wrote a book on political economy. I tried to read it at college. But I couldn't. It was too heavy for me. He was a Socialist—wasn't he?—the founder of Socialism?"
"A great deal more than that," replied Selma. "He was the most important man for human liberty that ever lived—except perhaps one." And she looked at Leonardo's "man of sorrows and acquainted with grief."
"Marx was a—a Hebrew—wasn't he?"
Selma's eyes danced, and Jane felt that she was laughing at her hesitation and choice of the softer word. Selma said:
"Yes—he was a Jew. Both were Jews."
"Both?" inquired Jane, puzzled.
"Marx and Jesus," explained Selma.
Jane was startled. "So HE was a Jew—wasn't He?"
"And they were both labor leaders—labor agitators. The first one proclaimed the brotherhood of man. But he regarded this world as hopeless and called on the weary and heavy laden masses to look to the next world for the righting of their wrongs. Then—eighteen centuries after—came that second Jew"—Selma looked passionate, reverent admiration at the powerful, bearded face, so masterful, yet so kind—"and he said: 'No! not in the hereafter, but in the here. Here and now, my brothers. Let us make this world a heaven. Let us redeem ourselves and destroy the devil of ignorance who is holding us in this hell.' It was three hundred years before that first Jew began to triumph. It won't be so long before there are monuments to Marx in clean and beautiful and free cities all over the earth."
Jane listened intensely. There was admiring envy in her eyes as she cried: "How splendid!—to believe in something—and work for it and live for it—as you do!"