"Is it true that the Bolsheviks are just and good men?"
"Sidi," I answered, "I have seen these men face to face but I shall not speak of my own personal impressions regarding them, in order that I may avoid seeming too strongly prejudiced. I prefer to answer with the words of these 'just men,' who have themselves admitted, even boasted, that they have murdered a million men, among them six thousand ulema, one hundred Imams, nine thousand hakims, thirteen thousand of the richest men of their country and three hundred fifty-five thousand tholba"
"In the name of Allah, they are wicked men; and why do they praise themselves so loudly here?"
"But perhaps they are 'just,'" I continued. "Let me explain to you now what I should do, if I were a Bolshevik and had power here."
"In the name of the merciful and good God!" whispered one of the old men.
"Here in Maghreb I see walls and walls," I began, watching the curious faces of my hosts. "With these walls you surround your houses, your palm-groves, your gardens, your harems. Why do you do this?"
"We must protect our property," they answered in one voice, raising their arms in a gesture of palpable evidence.
"If I were a Bolshevik and had authority here, I should first of all destroy these walls. Dates, pomegranates, wine and olives would no longer be left to you, who have already too much of wealth, enough to condemn you to death, but would be given to your servants, to your slaves and to the beggars of the streets. With you gone, or if you happen to be left alive in penury, your wives might
