they had
inflicted upon them; enraged or in tears over the indignities they
themselves had suffered; drunken and piteous, unfortunate and
repulsive. Sometimes the boys would be brought home by the mother or
the father, who had picked them up in the street or in a tavern, drunk
to insensibility. The parents scolded and swore at them peevishly, and
beat their spongelike bodies, soaked with liquor; then more or less
systematically put them to bed, in order to rouse them to work early
next morning, when the bellow of the whistle should sullenly course
through the air.

They scolded and beat the children soundly, notwithstanding the fact
that drunkenness and brawls among young folk appeared perfectly
legitimate to the old people. When they were young they, too, had
drunk and fought; they, too, had been beaten by their mothers and
fathers. Life had always been like that. It flowed on monotonously
and slowly somewhere down the muddy, turbid stream, year after year;
and it was all bound up in strong ancient customs and habits that led
them to do one and the same thing day in and day out. None of them, it
seemed, had either the time or the desire to attempt to change this
state of life.

Once in a long while a stranger would come to the village. At first he
attracted attention merely because he was a stranger. Then he aroused
a light, superficial interest by the stories of the places where he had
worked. Afterwards the novelty wore off, the people got used to him,
and he remained unnoticed. From his stories it was clear that the life
of the workingmen was the same everywhere. And if so, then what was
there to talk about?

Occasionally, however, some stranger spoke curious things never heard
of in the suburb. The men did not argue with him, but listened to his
odd speeches with incredulity. His words aroused blind irritation in
some, perplexed alarm in others, while still others were disturbed by a
feeble, shadowy glimmer of the hope of something, they knew not what.
And they all began to drink more in order to drive away the
unnecessary, meddlesome excitement.

Noticing in the stranger something unusual, the villagers cherished it
long against him and treated the man who was not like them with
unaccountable apprehension. It was as if they feared he would throw
something into their life which would disturb its straight, dismal
course. Sad and difficult, it was yet even in its tenor. People were
accustomed t