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chapter 9

The people's front was victorious. The hopes of the working men ran high; hopes for better homes, more decent clothing, more substantial food and, most of all, a more secure future.

Debating the imminent blessings in store for them, citizens wet their gullets at the crowded cafes, treating friends and accepting treats in return. In the courtyards strolling singers burst forth with the strains of the Marseillaise, and got more generous tips as a result. At the carnivals, nimble children cavorted on the inflated bellies of a caricatured bourgeoisie. In front of the elegant department store windows, house- wives mentally selected the fineries they would acquire as soon as their husband's wages leaped upward. Hope sprang high in the breasts of the down-trodden.

The joy of victory penetrated to Gertrude's bedside and brought a bloom to her faded cheeks. Morris' careworn brow, too, seemed to glow with something of gladness. Yet he was quick to caution her "not to count her chickens before they were hatched." Now, more than ever, he told her, was the time for energy and concentrated effort, for a collective push into the paradise of peace and plenty.

But Gertrude found it impossible to follow his advice. Her bewitched imagination led her into a comfortable two-room apartment, with sunshine pouring in and the floors covered

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