"Beautiful as a dream, but, still, words," persisted Dick.
"And why, my friend?"
"Because power cannot be wrested from the hands in which it is now vested——"
"That is where you are mistaken. Think of Russia."
"Yes; think of Russia," replied Dick—"a nightmare, a ghastly crime, hell upon earth."
"And I reply in your own language, 'Words, words, words.' My friend, you cannot wash away abuses hoary with age with rose water. Stern work needs stern methods. Our Russian comrades are taking the only way which will lead to the Promised Land. Do not judge Russia by what it seems to-day, but by what it will be when you and I are old. Already there are patches of blue in the sky. In a few years from now things will have settled down, and Russia, with all its wealth and all its possibilities, will belong to the people—the great people of Russia. That is what must be true of every nation. You talk of the great wealth of European countries, and of America. Who holds that wealth? Just a few thousands—whereas it should be in the hands of all—all."
"And how will you do this mighty thing?" laughed Dick.
"By the people not simply demanding, but taking their rights—taking it, my friend."
"By force?"