Мартин Иден

Chapter 30

           "Andanotherthing,"heswepton. "Youloveme. Butwhydoyouloveme? Thethinginmethatcompelsmetowriteistheverythingthatdrawsyourlove. YoulovemebecauseIamsomehowdifferentfromthemenyouhaveknownandmighthaveloved. Iwasnotmadeforthedeskandcounting-house,forpettybusinesssquabbling,andlegaljangling. Makemedosuchthings,makemelikethoseothermen,doingtheworktheydo,breathingtheairtheybreathe,developingthepointofviewtheyhavedeveloped,andyouhavedestroyedthedifference,destroyedme,destroyedthethingyoulove. Mydesiretowriteisthemostvitalthinginme. HadIbeenamereclod,neitherwouldIhavedesiredtowrite,norwouldyouhavedesiredmeforahusband." 

           "Butyouforget,"sheinterrupted,thequicksurfaceofhermindglimpsingaparallel. "Therehavebeeneccentricinventors,starvingtheirfamilieswhiletheysoughtsuchchimerasasperpetualmotion. Doubtlesstheirwiveslovedthem,andsufferedwiththemandforthem,notbecauseofbutinspiteoftheirinfatuationforperpetualmotion." 

           "True,"wasthereply. "Buttherehavebeeninventorswhowerenoteccentricandwhostarvedwhiletheysoughttoinventpracticalthings; andsometimes,itisrecorded,theysucceeded. CertainlyIdonotseekanyimpossibilities" 

           "Youhavecalledit‘achievingtheimpossible,’"sheinterpolated. 

           "Ispokefiguratively. Iseektodowhatmenhavedonebeforemetowriteandtolivebymywriting." 

           Hersilencespurredhimon"Toyou,then,mygoalisasmuchachimeraasperpetualmotion?"hedemanded. 

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