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Chapter 15

The increasing wave of strikes threw Paris into a fever pitch. The overwhelming victory of the People's Front did not calm the prevailing excitement; on the contrary, atmosphere became tenser from day to day. And with ever new outbreak of strikes the temperature rose. It appeared that the very structure of society was on the verge of crumbling.

It seemed that France, the heartland of revolution, was making a desperate effort to stave off counter-revolution in the West marching from Germany like a brown plag of locusts, swarming across the fields of the human spirit, the orchids of culture, and devouring every blade of grass every blossom of the soul.

Nor was the small factory on the Place Gambetta excluded from the fight for survival. Higher wages were no longer something just to dream about. Other workers were winning their demands; why couldn't furriers achieve some success too? Thus it was in a light and unresisting mood they obeyed the Syndicate's strike call. Higher wages! That was something worth fighting for. Higher wages meant a chance to come closer to life, closer to the heart's desire.

So, for example, Jeanne was thinking, that higher wages for herself-as well as for her husband-would eventually permit them to pay off to her brother-in-law his share of the inheritance, after which they could hope to live in their

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