Мартин Иден

Chapter 15

           Andhepunchedonandon,slowerandslower,asthelastshredsofvitalityoozedfromhim,throughcenturiesandaeonsandenormouslapsesoftime,until,inadimway,hebecameawarethatthenamelessthingwassinking,slowlysinkingdowntotheroughboard-plankingofthebridge. Andthenextmomenthewasstandingoverit,staggeringandswayingonshakylegs,clutchingattheairforsupport,andsayinginavoicehedidnotrecognize:- 

           "D’yewantanymore? Say,d’yewantanymore?" 

           Hewasstillsayingit,overandover,demanding,entreating,threatening,toknowifitwantedanymore,whenhefeltthefellowsofhisganglayinghandsonhim,pattinghimonthebackandtryingtoputhiscoatonhim. Andthencameasuddenrushofblacknessandoblivion. 

           Thetinalarm-clockonthetabletickedon,butMartinEden,hisfaceburiedonhisarms,didnothearit. Heheardnothing. Hedidnotthink. SoabsolutelyhadherelivedlifethathehadfaintedjustashefaintedyearsbeforeontheEighthStreetBridge. Forafullminutetheblacknessandtheblanknessendured. Then,likeonefromthedead,hesprangupright,eyesflaming,sweatpouringdownhisface,shouting:- 

           "Ilickedyou,Cheese-Face! Ittookmeelevenyears,butIlickedyou!" 

           Hiskneesweretremblingunderhim,hefeltfaint,andhestaggeredbacktothebed,sinkingdownandsittingontheedgeofit. Hewasstillintheclutchofthepast. 

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