"So that night I went to the meeting and listened to the speeches. Presently _he_ came in. I didn't see him at first, but heard a slight noise back of me and heard someone near me say 'Here comes Doctor Marx.' Then I turned and saw Karl making his way to the front, all eyes fastened upon him. I could see in a moment that he was much beloved. "Then Karl made a speech. He was not a great orator, but spoke clearly and right to the point in very simple language. The speaker who spoke before him was very eloquent and fiery, and stirred the audience to a frenzy. But never a sound of applause greeted Karl's speech; he was listened to in perfect silence. "This made me feel that Karl's speech was a great failure, but next day I found that the only words I remembered of all that were spoken that evening were the words Karl spoke. It was the same way with the other men in the shop where I worked. As they discussed the meeting next day, it was Karl's speech they remembered and discussed. That was like Karl: he had a way somehow of saying things you couldn't forget. "When the meeting was over I was slinking away without speaking to him. I suppose that I was bashful and a bit afraid of the grave 'Doctor Marx,' the great man. But he saw me going out and shouted my name. 'Wait a minute, Hans Fritzsche,' he cried, and came running to me with outstretched hands. Then he insisted upon introducing me to all the leaders. 'This is my good friend, Herr Fritzsche, with whom I went to school,' he said to them. "Nothing would satisfy him but that I should go with the other leaders and himself for a little wine, and though I was almost afraid lest in such company I seem foolish, I went. You should have heard Karl talk to those leaders, my boy! It was wonderful, and I sat and drank in every word. One of the great men was urging that the time had come for some desperate action. 'Nothing but a bloody revolution can help the working people, Herr Marx,' he said. But Karl smiled quietly, and I thought I could see the old scornful curl of his lip as he said: 'Revolution? Yes, but not yet, Herr, not yet, and perhaps not a bloody one at all.' Ach, what quiet power seemed to go with his words! "After the little crowd broke up Karl took me with him to his office. Then I learned that he was the editor of the _Rhenische Zeitung_, and that the articles I had read in the paper pleading for the poor and oppressed and denouncing the government were written by him. I felt almost afraid of him then, so wonderful it seemed that he should have become so great and wise. But Karl soon put all my fears to rest, and made me forget everything except that we were boys from home enjoying the memories of old times.