By R. Palme Dutt
Booklet through Dutt, R. Palme
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Extra info for Fascism and Social Revolution
He did not watch her dress and leave even when he heard her soft crying. His eyes remained fixed on the hungry flames. A mouse chattered at his foot. “Leave me alone,” he said to the mouse. Tiny eyes stared at him. He kicked at the mouse and the mouse scampered away, turned, and sat back on its hind legs, looking at him with an expression that said I’m faster than you, fat man, try to catch me. The mice and rats were so bold in Carcassonne. In the commonroom, even crowded with feasters, the mice scampered everywhere.
He had not returned to his home city in a dozen years—not since the dark day his mother burned—and he could see that the occupation by the French had ruined Carcassonne, the pride of the South. The mud road was piled with refuse, dumped from the shuttered windows of rotting houses, and even now the pigs ran the streets, cleaning the slop but leaving behind the stink of pig shit. They sought the after-curfew refuge of the Auberge de Terre, a forbidden grendincroix, a rogues’ crossing, hidden amongst the slums 34 n D E R E K A R M S T R O N G of the outer city.
The waykeeper approached them with a scowl. ” Even as he said it, Wizi’s flowing tail cocked up and healthy, steaming dung piles fell out of her. By then, the waykeep’s eyes were fixed on Nevara’s spell-binding bosom. Ramon kicked rushes on top of the fresh manure. “Good master, we can’t leave our pets outside,” Ramon said, and he tossed the waykeeper a sou. He leaned his spear-staff on the wall, sloughed off his lute, and sat. The waykeep’s beady eyes glared out of the pouches of cheeks as round and red as beets—as friendly a greeting as they’d had yet in Carcassonne.
Fascism and Social Revolution by R. Palme Dutt