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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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He
pulled
on
his
cap
,
lurched
desperately
through
the
doorway
,
and
was
gone
.
"
Well
,
what
do
you
think
of
him
?
"
Arthur
demanded
.
"
He
is
most
interesting
,
a
whiff
of
ozone
,
"
she
answered
.
"
How
old
is
he
?
"
"
Twenty
—
almost
twenty
-
one
.
I
asked
him
this
afternoon
.
I
didn
’
t
think
he
was
that
young
.
"
And
I
am
three
years
older
,
was
the
thought
in
her
mind
as
she
kissed
her
brothers
goodnight
.
As
Martin
Eden
went
down
the
steps
,
his
hand
dropped
into
his
coat
pocket
.
It
came
out
with
a
brown
rice
paper
and
a
pinch
of
Mexican
tobacco
,
which
were
deftly
rolled
together
into
a
cigarette
.
He
drew
the
first
whiff
of
smoke
deep
into
his
lungs
and
expelled
it
in
a
long
and
lingering
exhalation
.
"
By
God
!
"
he
said
aloud
,
in
a
voice
of
awe
and
wonder
.
"
By
God
!
"
he
repeated
.
And
yet
again
he
murmured
,
"
By
God
!
"
Then
his
hand
went
to
his
collar
,
which
he
ripped
out
of
the
shirt
and
stuffed
into
his
pocket
.
A
cold
drizzle
was
falling
,
but
he
bared
his
head
to
it
and
unbuttoned
his
vest
,
swinging
along
in
splendid
unconcern
.
He
was
only
dimly
aware
that
it
was
raining
.
He
was
in
an
ecstasy
,
dreaming
dreams
and
reconstructing
the
scenes
just
past
.
He
had
met
the
woman
at
last
—
the
woman
that
he
had
thought
little
about
,
not
being
given
to
thinking
about
women
,
but
whom
he
had
expected
,
in
a
remote
way
,
he
would
sometime
meet
.
He
had
sat
next
to
her
at
table
.
He
had
felt
her
hand
in
his
,
he
had
looked
into
her
eyes
and
caught
a
vision
of
a
beautiful
spirit
;
—
but
no
more
beautiful
than
the
eyes
through
which
it
shone
,
nor
than
the
flesh
that
gave
it
expression
and
form
.
He
did
not
think
of
her
flesh
as
flesh
,
—
which
was
new
to
him
;
for
of
the
women
he
had
known
that
was
the
only
way
he
thought
.
Her
flesh
was
somehow
different
.
He
did
not
conceive
of
her
body
as
a
body
,
subject
to
the
ills
and
frailties
of
bodies
.
Her
body
was
more
than
the
garb
of
her
spirit
.
It
was
an
emanation
of
her
spirit
,
a
pure
and
gracious
crystallization
of
her
divine
essence
.
This
feeling
of
the
divine
startled
him
.
It
shocked
him
from
his
dreams
to
sober
thought
.
No
word
,
no
clew
,
no
hint
,
of
the
divine
had
ever
reached
him
before
.
He
had
never
believed
in
the
divine
.
He
had
always
been
irreligious
,
scoffing
good
-
naturedly
at
the
sky
-
pilots
and
their
immortality
of
the
soul
.
There
was
no
life
beyond
,
he
had
contended
;
it
was
here
and
now
,
then
darkness
everlasting
.
But
what
he
had
seen
in
her
eyes
was
soul
—
immortal
soul
that
could
never
die
.
No
man
he
had
known
,
nor
any
woman
,
had
given
him
the
message
of
immortality
.
But
she
had
.
She
had
whispered
it
to
him
the
first
moment
she
looked
at
him
.
Her
face
shimmered
before
his
eyes
as
he
walked
along
,
—
pale
and
serious
,
sweet
and
sensitive
,
smiling
with
pity
and
tenderness
as
only
a
spirit
could
smile
,
and
pure
as
he
had
never
dreamed
purity
could
be
.
Her
purity
smote
him
like
a
blow
.
It
startled
him
.
He
had
known
good
and
bad
;
but
purity
,
as
an
attribute
of
existence
,
had
never
entered
his
mind
.
And
now
,
in
her
,
he
conceived
purity
to
be
the
superlative
of
goodness
and
of
cleanness
,
the
sum
of
which
constituted
eternal
life
.
And
promptly
urged
his
ambition
to
grasp
at
eternal
life
.
He
was
not
fit
to
carry
water
for
her
—
he
knew
that
;
it
was
a
miracle
of
luck
and
a
fantastic
stroke
that
had
enabled
him
to
see
her
and
be
with
her
and
talk
with
her
that
night
.
It
was
accidental
.
There
was
no
merit
in
it
.
He
did
not
deserve
such
fortune
.
His
mood
was
essentially
religious
.
He
was
humble
and
meek
,
filled
with
self
-
disparagement
and
abasement
.
In
such
frame
of
mind
sinners
come
to
the
penitent
form
.
He
was
convicted
of
sin
.
But
as
the
meek
and
lowly
at
the
penitent
form
catch
splendid
glimpses
of
their
future
lordly
existence
,
so
did
he
catch
similar
glimpses
of
the
state
he
would
gain
to
by
possessing
her
.
But
this
possession
of
her
was
dim
and
nebulous
and
totally
different
from
possession
as
he
had
known
it
.
Ambition
soared
on
mad
wings
,
and
he
saw
himself
climbing
the
heights
with
her
,
sharing
thoughts
with
her
,
pleasuring
in
beautiful
and
noble
things
with
her
.
It
was
a
soul
-
possession
he
dreamed
,
refined
beyond
any
grossness
,
a
free
comradeship
of
spirit
that
he
could
not
put
into
definite
thought
.
He
did
not
think
it
.
For
that
matter
,
he
did
not
think
at
all
.
Sensation
usurped
reason
,
and
he
was
quivering
and
palpitant
with
emotions
he
had
never
known
,
drifting
deliciously
on
a
sea
of
sensibility
where
feeling
itself
was
exalted
and
spiritualized
and
carried
beyond
the
summits
of
life
.
He
staggered
along
like
a
drunken
man
,
murmuring
fervently
aloud
:
"
By
God
!
By
God
!
"
