Мартин Иден

Chapter 1

           Hesatdowngingerlyontheedgeofthechair, greatlyworriedbyhishands. Theywereinthewaywhereverheputthem. Arthurwasleavingtheroom,andMartinEdenfollowedhisexitwithlongingeyes. Hefeltlost,alonethereintheroomwiththatpalespiritofawoman. Therewasnobar-keeperuponwhomtocallfordrinks, nosmallboytosendaroundthecornerforacanofbeer andbymeansofthatsocialfluidstarttheamenitiesoffriendshipflowing. 

           "Youhavesuchascaronyourneck,Mr.Eden,"thegirlwassaying. "Howdidithappen? Iamsureitmusthavebeensomeadventure." 

           "AMexicanwithaknife,miss,"heanswered, moisteninghisparchedlipsandclearinghipthroat. "Itwasjustafight. AfterIgottheknifeaway, hetriedtobiteoffmynose." 

           Baldlyashehadstatedit,inhiseyeswasarichvisionofthathot,starrynightatSalinaCruz, thewhitestripofbeach, thelightsofthesugarsteamersintheharbor, thevoicesofthedrunkensailorsinthedistance, thejostlingstevedores, theflamingpassionintheMexican’sface, theglintofthebeast-eyesinthestarlight,thestingofthesteelinhisneck, andtherushofblood, thecrowdandthecries,thetwobodies,hisandtheMexican’s, lockedtogether,rollingoverandoverandtearingupthesand, andfromawayoffsomewherethemellowtinklingofaguitar. Suchwasthepicture,andhethrilledtothememoryofit, wonderingifthemancouldpaintitwhohadpaintedthepilot-schooneronthewall. Thewhitebeach,thestars,andthelightsofthesugarsteamerswouldlookgreat,hethought, andmidwayonthesandthedarkgroupoffiguresthatsurroundedthefighters. 

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