tice, such a policy has always borne and always will bear fruits
of evil. The very existence of such an injustice corrupts and puts in
jeopardy the social body which tolerates it.... No benefits which may
be derived by individual persons or social classes from an inequality
of rights can justify the State in depriving a group of citizens of
their full rights, as a result of their race and faith. This is the
A-B-C of justice, and those who do not know it have yet to learn what
justice is.

Neither are the Jews better than we are, nor are we better than they.
We are all human beings and, as such, we must all be equal before the
impartial and dispassionate Law, which determines our rights and
duties towards the State and society. Good and bad people, I repeat,
are everywhere, and the proportion is roughly the same among us as
among them. Let us, therefore, strive for the realisation of justice
on earth, and let us believe in the final triumph of truth. The rest
will be added unto us. Without such a faith it is hard to live....

* * * * *

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER

BY LEONID ANDREYEV

A sad and disquieting image often rises before my eyes.

It happened in Petrograd, on the staircase of a large, new building,
one apartment of which was transformed into a private ward. When I
entered the porter's lodge, on my way to a friend, I saw that it was
filled with wounded soldiers, who had just arrived, while curious
spectators crowded near the plate-glass door. The house was new and
luxuriously furnished, and the elevator on which the wounded soldiers
were taken up, was carefully covered with some kind of cloth, for fear
that the velvet would be soiled and the insects would get into the
seams. Upstairs the wounded were cordially greeted by a priest and a
man dressed in white. After having kissed the priest's hand, the
wounded, evidently embarrassed by the bright light and the luxury of
the place, entered the ward awkwardly and silently. There were no
seriously wounded on stretchers among them, all were able to walk; yet
it was painful to look at them.

There was a wounded soldier in one of the last groups taken up by the
elevator who strangely attracted everybody's attention. He was a
short, young, lean, ghastly pale Jew. All the wounded were pale, but
there was something sinister about the pallor of his face; it was a
paleness of an utterly exhausted, anaemic or