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Martin
Eden
nodded
.
He
had
caught
a
glimpse
of
the
apparently
illimitable
vistas
of
knowledge
.
What
he
saw
took
on
tangibility
.
His
abnormal
power
of
vision
made
abstractions
take
on
concrete
form
.
In
the
alchemy
of
his
brain
,
trigonometry
and
mathematics
and
the
whole
field
of
knowledge
which
they
betokened
were
transmuted
into
so
much
landscape
.
The
vistas
he
saw
were
vistas
of
green
foliage
and
forest
glades
,
all
softly
luminous
or
shot
through
with
flashing
lights
.
In
the
distance
,
detail
was
veiled
and
blurred
by
a
purple
haze
,
but
behind
this
purple
haze
,
he
knew
,
was
the
glamour
of
the
unknown
,
the
lure
of
romance
.
It
was
like
wine
to
him
.
Here
was
adventure
,
something
to
do
with
head
and
hand
,
a
world
to
conquer
—
and
straightway
from
the
back
of
his
consciousness
rushed
the
thought
,
conquering
,
to
win
to
her
,
that
lily
-
pale
spirit
sitting
beside
him
.
The
glimmering
vision
was
rent
asunder
and
dissipated
by
Arthur
,
who
,
all
evening
,
had
been
trying
to
draw
his
wild
man
out
.
Martin
Eden
remembered
his
decision
.
For
the
first
time
he
became
himself
,
consciously
and
deliberately
at
first
,
but
soon
lost
in
the
joy
of
creating
in
making
life
as
he
knew
it
appear
before
his
listeners
’
eyes
.
He
had
been
a
member
of
the
crew
of
the
smuggling
schooner
Halcyon
when
she
was
captured
by
a
revenue
cutter
.
He
saw
with
wide
eyes
,
and
he
could
tell
what
he
saw
.
He
brought
the
pulsing
sea
before
them
,
and
the
men
and
the
ships
upon
the
sea
.
He
communicated
his
power
of
vision
,
till
they
saw
with
his
eyes
what
he
had
seen
.
He
selected
from
the
vast
mass
of
detail
with
an
artist
’
s
touch
,
drawing
pictures
of
life
that
glowed
and
burned
with
light
and
color
,
injecting
movement
so
that
his
listeners
surged
along
with
him
on
the
flood
of
rough
eloquence
,
enthusiasm
,
and
power
.
At
times
he
shocked
them
with
the
vividness
of
the
narrative
and
his
terms
of
speech
,
but
beauty
always
followed
fast
upon
the
heels
of
violence
,
and
tragedy
was
relieved
by
humor
,
by
interpretations
of
the
strange
twists
and
quirks
of
sailors
’
minds
.
And
while
he
talked
,
the
girl
looked
at
him
with
startled
eyes
.
His
fire
warmed
her
.
She
wondered
if
she
had
been
cold
all
her
days
.
She
wanted
to
lean
toward
this
burning
,
blazing
man
that
was
like
a
volcano
spouting
forth
strength
,
robustness
,
and
health
.
She
felt
that
she
must
lean
toward
him
,
and
resisted
by
an
effort
.
Then
,
too
,
there
was
the
counter
impulse
to
shrink
away
from
him
.
She
was
repelled
by
those
lacerated
hands
,
grimed
by
toil
so
that
the
very
dirt
of
life
was
ingrained
in
the
flesh
itself
,
by
that
red
chafe
of
the
collar
and
those
bulging
muscles
.
His
roughness
frightened
her
;
each
roughness
of
speech
was
an
insult
to
her
ear
,
each
rough
phase
of
his
life
an
insult
to
her
soul
.
And
ever
and
again
would
come
the
draw
of
him
,
till
she
thought
he
must
be
evil
to
have
such
power
over
her
.
All
that
was
most
firmly
established
in
her
mind
was
rocking
.
His
romance
and
adventure
were
battering
at
the
conventions
.
Before
his
facile
perils
and
ready
laugh
,
life
was
no
longer
an
affair
of
serious
effort
and
restraint
,
but
a
toy
,
to
be
played
with
and
turned
topsy
-
turvy
,
carelessly
to
be
lived
and
pleasured
in
,
and
carelessly
to
be
flung
aside
.
"
Therefore
,
play
!
"
was
the
cry
that
rang
through
her
.
"
Lean
toward
him
,
if
so
you
will
,
and
place
your
two
hands
upon
his
neck
!
"
She
wanted
to
cry
out
at
the
recklessness
of
the
thought
,
and
in
vain
she
appraised
her
own
cleanness
and
culture
and
balanced
all
that
she
was
against
what
he
was
not
.
She
glanced
about
her
and
saw
the
others
gazing
at
him
with
rapt
attention
;
and
she
would
have
despaired
had
not
she
seen
horror
in
her
mother
’
s
eyes
—
fascinated
horror
,
it
was
true
,
but
none
the
less
horror
.
This
man
from
outer
darkness
was
evil
.
Her
mother
saw
it
,
and
her
mother
was
right
.
She
would
trust
her
mother
’
s
judgment
in
this
as
she
had
always
trusted
it
in
all
things
.
The
fire
of
him
was
no
longer
warm
,
and
the
fear
of
him
was
no
longer
poignant
.
Later
,
at
the
piano
,
she
played
for
him
,
and
at
him
,
aggressively
,
with
the
vague
intent
of
emphasizing
the
impassableness
of
the
gulf
that
separated
them
.
Her
music
was
a
club
that
she
swung
brutally
upon
his
head
;
and
though
it
stunned
him
and
crushed
him
down
,
it
incited
him
.
He
gazed
upon
her
in
awe
.
In
his
mind
,
as
in
her
own
,
the
gulf
widened
;
but
faster
than
it
widened
,
towered
his
ambition
to
win
across
it
.
But
he
was
too
complicated
a
plexus
of
sensibilities
to
sit
staring
at
a
gulf
a
whole
evening
,
especially
when
there
was
music
.
He
was
remarkably
susceptible
to
music
.
It
was
like
strong
drink
,
firing
him
to
audacities
of
feeling
,
—
a
drug
that
laid
hold
of
his
imagination
and
went
cloud
-
soaring
through
the
sky
.
It
banished
sordid
fact
,
flooded
his
mind
with
beauty
,
loosed
romance
and
to
its
heels
added
wings
.
He
did
not
understand
the
music
she
played
.
It
was
different
from
the
dance
-
hall
piano
-
banging
and
blatant
brass
bands
he
had
heard
.
But
he
had
caught
hints
of
such
music
from
the
books
,
and
he
accepted
her
playing
largely
on
faith
,
patiently
waiting
,
at
first
,
for
the
lifting
measures
of
pronounced
and
simple
rhythm
,
puzzled
because
those
measures
were
not
long
continued
.
Just
as
he
caught
the
swing
of
them
and
started
,
his
imagination
attuned
in
flight
,
always
they
vanished
away
in
a
chaotic
scramble
of
sounds
that
was
meaningless
to
him
,
and
that
dropped
his
imagination
,
an
inert
weight
,
back
to
earth
.
Once
,
it
entered
his
mind
that
there
was
a
deliberate
rebuff
in
all
this
.
He
caught
her
spirit
of
antagonism
and
strove
to
divine
the
message
that
her
hands
pronounced
upon
the
keys
.
Then
he
dismissed
the
thought
as
unworthy
and
impossible
,
and
yielded
himself
more
freely
to
the
music
.
The
old
delightful
condition
began
to
be
induced
.
His
feet
were
no
longer
clay
,
and
his
flesh
became
spirit
;
before
his
eyes
and
behind
his
eyes
shone
a
great
glory
;
and
then
the
scene
before
him
vanished
and
he
was
away
,
rocking
over
the
world
that
was
to
him
a
very
dear
world
.
The
known
and
the
unknown
were
commingled
in
the
dream
-
pageant
that
thronged
his
vision
.
He
entered
strange
ports
of
sun
-
washed
lands
,
and
trod
market
-
places
among
barbaric
peoples
that
no
man
had
ever
seen
.
The
scent
of
the
spice
islands
was
in
his
nostrils
as
he
had
known
it
on
warm
,
breathless
nights
at
sea
,
or
he
beat
up
against
the
southeast
trades
through
long
tropic
days
,
sinking
palm
-
tufted
coral
islets
in
the
turquoise
sea
behind
and
lifting
palm
-
tufted
coral
islets
in
the
turquoise
sea
ahead
.
Swift
as
thought
the
pictures
came
and
went
.
One
instant
he
was
astride
a
broncho
and
flying
through
the
fairy
-
colored
Painted
Desert
country
;
the
next
instant
he
was
gazing
down
through
shimmering
heat
into
the
whited
sepulchre
of
Death
Valley
,
or
pulling
an
oar
on
a
freezing
ocean
where
great
ice
islands
towered
and
glistened
in
the
sun
.
He
lay
on
a
coral
beach
where
the
cocoanuts
grew
down
to
the
mellow
-
sounding
surf
.
The
hulk
of
an
ancient
wreck
burned
with
blue
fires
,
in
the
light
of
which
danced
the
hula
dancers
to
the
barbaric
love
-
calls
of
the
singers
,
who
chanted
to
tinkling
ukuleles
and
rumbling
tom
-
toms
.
It
was
a
sensuous
,
tropic
night
.
In
the
background
a
volcano
crater
was
silhouetted
against
the
stars
.
Overhead
drifted
a
pale
crescent
moon
,
and
the
Southern
Cross
burned
low
in
the
sky
.
He
was
a
harp
;
all
life
that
he
had
known
and
that
was
his
consciousness
was
the
strings
;
and
the
flood
of
music
was
a
wind
that
poured
against
those
strings
and
set
them
vibrating
with
memories
and
dreams
.
He
did
not
merely
feel
.
Sensation
invested
itself
in
form
and
color
and
radiance
,
and
what
his
imagination
dared
,
it
objectified
in
some
sublimated
and
magic
way
.
Past
,
present
,
and
future
mingled
;
and
he
went
on
oscillating
across
the
broad
,
warm
world
,
through
high
adventure
and
noble
deeds
to
Her
—
ay
,
and
with
her
,
winning
her
,
his
arm
about
her
,
and
carrying
her
on
in
flight
through
the
empery
of
his
mind
.
And
she
,
glancing
at
him
across
her
shoulder
,
saw
something
of
all
this
in
his
face
.
It
was
a
transfigured
face
,
with
great
shining
eyes
that
gazed
beyond
the
veil
of
sound
and
saw
behind
it
the
leap
and
pulse
of
life
and
the
gigantic
phantoms
of
the
spirit
.
She
was
startled
.
The
raw
,
stumbling
lout
was
gone
.
The
ill
-
fitting
clothes
,
battered
hands
,
and
sunburned
face
remained
;
but
these
seemed
the
prison
-
bars
through
which
she
saw
a
great
soul
looking
forth
,
inarticulate
and
dumb
because
of
those
feeble
lips
that
would
not
give
it
speech
.
Only
for
a
flashing
moment
did
she
see
this
,
then
she
saw
the
lout
returned
,
and
she
laughed
at
the
whim
of
her
fancy
.
But
the
impression
of
that
fleeting
glimpse
lingered
,
and
when
the
time
came
for
him
to
beat
a
stumbling
retreat
and
go
,
she
lent
him
the
volume
of
Swinburne
,
and
another
of
Browning
—
she
was
studying
Browning
in
one
of
her
English
courses
.
He
seemed
such
a
boy
,
as
he
stood
blushing
and
stammering
his
thanks
,
that
a
wave
of
pity
,
maternal
in
its
prompting
,
welled
up
in
her
.
She
did
not
remember
the
lout
,
nor
the
imprisoned
soul
,
nor
the
man
who
had
stared
at
her
in
all
masculineness
and
delighted
and
frightened
her
.
She
saw
before
her
only
a
boy
,
who
was
shaking
her
hand
with
a
hand
so
calloused
that
it
felt
like
a
nutmeg
-
grater
and
rasped
her
skin
,
and
who
was
saying
jerkily
:
-
"
The
greatest
time
of
my
life
.
You
see
,
I
ain
’
t
used
to
things
.
.
.
"
He
looked
about
him
helplessly
.
"
To
people
and
houses
like
this
.
It
’
s
all
new
to
me
,
and
I
like
it
.
"
"
I
hope
you
’
ll
call
again
,
"
she
said
,
as
he
was
saying
good
night
to
her
brothers
.
