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163

(1929) [MARC] Author: Martin Andersen Nexø Translator: Jacob Wittmer Hartmann
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WITH COTTAGERS IN MOUNTAINS 163
cultural workers’ organization of the village. He is
fifty-five years old, tall and sinewy, with a large face
and immutably peaceful features. He reminds us of
a West Jutland farmer. The other, Alfonso M., is
the chairman of the revolutionary agitation committee.
He is twenty-six years old, feeble in appearance, with
a gait that is more of a dance than a walk, and a child-
like insular face with dreamy enthusiastic eyes. His
wan temples and cheeks suggest a doctrinal mania, and
Don Louis whispers to me that he is a fanatical
anarchist.
There is also a third, a smiling old man whose body,
either from hard work or poverty, is bent double, hori-
zontal, from the hips upward. But he is able to walk
very well and goes about through the hills with us all
morning, smilingly repeating, like a big baby, all the
words we say. He has become childish, but the others
show much consideration for him. On our arrival, he
peeks into the bottom of the cart and looks at us, one
after the other, questioningly: “And where are the
Mauser rifles?” he says.
Don Louis replies: “Do you know that it is just
thirty years ago to-day that you proclaimed the re-
public, José?”
The old man nods admission to himself: “Do you
think I could forget it; wasn’t I one of the chief leaders
in these mountains ?”
“So you were,” says Alfonso the anarchist, as he
executes a little step, “and you came near losing your
head in the job, too. They had set him up against a
wall of rock to shoot him; but he was out of luck and
came off with his life.”
“Yes, that was it; I got away and hopped about the

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