Fantasy fiction; Utopian fiction; Utopias -- Fiction
“Mr. Stevens,” she said, “where you have so many workmen who will be
engaged here regularly for months, would it not be practicable to have a
table set for them in the building you are putting up? It would seem so
much more fraternal and——”
“Human, you would say, madam. Ah! madam, that is the way I ate my dinner
for years.”
“By ——, it’s a shame!” exclaimed the doctor.
The count asked permission of Mr. Stevens to speak to his men; and
driving near a group of three seated on a pile of boards, he said,
“My friends, I wish to ask you a question—not out of curiosity, believe
me, but from a motive which you will approve.”
“Go ahead, sir,” said one of the men, tearing off a piece of tough meat
with his teeth.
“I want you to make me an estimate of the cost, the average cost, as
near as you can come at it, of a workingman’s lunch, such as you are
eating to-day.”
“I think mine, boss, costs about as much as that you give your dog every
day,” said a low-browed rough man seated near the group addressed.
“Sure would ye spake to a gintleman like that, Mikey? It’s onmannerly in
ye, onyhow.”
“I’m not offended with Mike. I like his protest. He is not satisfied,
and that is the first thing we want when we propose a reform.” Here the
intelligence was in some silent, mysterious way communicated from man to
man that this black-gloved gentleman was the great capitalist, of whom
there were circulating fabulous stories about his untold wealth, and his
project of a Social Palace for workingmen. Many of them were
incredulous, and suspicious of the intentions of all capitalists; but as
the knowledge of the count’s presence spread, many of the men rose and
doffed their hats to him and his friends, as they gathered round the
carriage. After trying again, the count found the lowest average
estimate he could get was ten cents. They agreed that if they could have
the same for that amount, they should not bring their kettles. The count
and Mr. Stevens talked together in a low tone for some minutes; and then
the count, rising in his seat, removed his hat and gloves and commenced
to address the workmen. Suddenly every voice was hushed and every eye
intently studying the elegant face and form before them:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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