workingmen of Italy!" they shouted another
time.

And sending these calls into the remote distance to friends who did not
know them, who could not have understood their language, they seemed to
feel confident that these people unknown to them heard and comprehended
their enthusiasm and their ecstasy.

The Little Russian spoke, his eyes beaming, his love larger than the
love of the others:

"Comrades, it would be well to write to them over there! Let them know
that they have friends living in far-away Russia, workingmen who
confess and believe in the same religion as they, comrades who pursue
the same aims as they, and who rejoice in their victories!"

And all, with smiles on their faces dreamily spoke at length of the
Germans, the Italians, the Englishmen, and the Swedes, of the working
people of all countries, as of their friends, as of people near to
their hearts, whom without seeing they loved and respected, whose joys
they shared, whose pain they felt.

In the small room a vast feeling was born of the universal kinship of
the workers of the world, at the same time its masters and its slaves,
who had already been freed from the bondage of prejudice and who felt
themselves the new masters of life. This feeling blended all into a
single soul; it moved the mother, and, although inaccessible to her, it
straightened and emboldened her, as it were, with its force, with its
joys, with its triumphant, youthful vigor, intoxicating, caressing,
full of hope.

"What queer people you are!" said the mother to the Little Russian one
day. "All are your comrades--the Armenians and the Jews and the
Austrians. You speak about all as of your friends; you grieve for all,
and you rejoice for all!"

"For all, mother dear, for all! The world is ours! The world is for
the workers! For us there is no nation, no race. For us there are
only comrades and foes. All the workingmen are our comrades; all the
rich, all the authorities are our foes. When you see how numerous we
workingmen are, how tremendous the power of the spirit in us, then your
heart is seized with such joy, such happiness, such a great holiday
sings in your bosom! And, mother, the Frenchman and the German feel
the same way when they look upon life, and the Italian also. We are
all children of one mother--the great, invincible idea of the
brotherhood of the workers of all countries over all the earth. This
idea grows, it warms us like the sun; it is a second