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Updated: May 1, 2025
Vandervelde and his handsome wife were shaking hands with her and Peter, and saying pleasant, polite, conventional things to them both. She signed a paper. And that old nigger-woman kept staring at her; but Peter avoided meeting her eyes. And her uncle was saying that she must change her frock now, my dear: Peter's boat sailed within the hour, remember.
It provoked him, too, that he couldn't make her talk. Mrs. Vandervelde smiled to herself again. Berkeley was deliberately trying to make himself agreeable, something he did not often have to trouble himself to do. He was at his best only when he was really interested or amused, and he was at his best to-night.
Any lecturer who will acquaint himself with the names of Lamarck, Darwin, Lyell, Lavoisier, Huxley, Haeckel, Virchow, Tyndall, Fiske, Wallace, Romanes, Helmholtz, Leibnitz, Humboldt, Weismann, etc., in science, and Marx, Engels, Lafargue, Labriola, Ferri, Vandervelde, Kautsky, Morgan, Ward, Dietzgen, etc., in sociology, and learn what those names stand for, such a lecturer, other things being equal, has a great and useful field before him.
She looked so pathetically eager, her look was so humble, that Vandervelde couldn't find it in his heart to deny the request. He found himself telling her that Peter Champneys had become a great painter, that he had never returned to America, and that his wife also was abroad. "Is the lady he's married to as nice as him? I sure hope she's good enough for him," was Gracie's comment.
"Tell me, my child, tell me." "I want to see her," said Gracie, unexpectedly. "Her?" "His wife. I got no right to ast, but I want somethin' awful to see his wife. Just once before I I go, I want to see her." Vandervelde felt bewildered. He had never spoken of Gracie to Marcia, or to Anne. They were so far removed from this poor little derelict that he was not sure they would understand.
He stood looking down upon her irresolutely. Then he tiptoed away, meeting at the door the house-physician. "How long?" asked the lawyer, jerkily. "Probably until morning. Or at any minute," said the doctor, indifferently. He thought it the best thing Gracie could do. Vandervelde nodded.
He looked important, and one suspected that he must have been at some pains to keep his waist line so inconspicuous. For the rest, he was as really cultivated and pleasing a pagan as one may find, and so wittily ironical he might have been mistaken for a Frenchman. Mrs. Vandervelde had planned that he should be the only guest.
This argument, also, that the unskilled have a better strategic position than the skilled on account of their solidarity and unity is surely a doubtful one. Bernard Shaw's series in the New Age . Karl Kautsky, the New York Call, Nov. 14, 1909. Karl Kautsky, "Parlamentarismus und Demokratie," pp. 124, 125, 138. Émile Vandervelde, "Le Socialisme Agraire," p. 236.
He thought a ward rather a bore for the Vanderveldes. He was standing with his back to the mantel, facing the door, when Nancy entered the room. In the filmy black Mrs. Vandervelde had selected for her, tall and slim, she paused for the fraction of a second and lifted her cool, shining, inscrutable green eyes to his lazy blue ones. Mrs.
Similarly Vandervelde quotes from Voltaire's essay on customs a sentence describing the European peasantry of a hundred and fifty years ago as "savages living in cabins with their females and a few animals," and asks, "who would dare to pretend that these words have lost all their reality?"
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