" She was a sister of charity in the guise of a
revolutionist.
"You sit but you think, and _my_ ladies never think," he answered, in
his boyish voice. He seemed proud to be so near this distinguished
creature. Had she not been sent to Siberia, driven out of France and
Germany, and arrested in New York for her incendiary speeches? She
possessed the most extraordinary power over an audience. Once, at Cooper
Union, Arthur had seen her control a crazy mob bent on destroying the
building because a few stupid police had interfered with the meeting.
Among her brethren Yetta Silverman was classed with Louise Michel,
Sophia Perowskaia, and Vera Zassoulitch, those valiant women, true
guardian angels, veritable martyrs to the cause. He thought of them as
he watched the delicate-looking young woman before him.
Arthur was too chilly of blood to fall in love with her; his admiration
was purely cerebral. He was unlucky enough to have had for a father a
shrewd, visionary man, that curious combination of merchant and dreamer
once to be found in New England.
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