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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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- Стр. 165/241
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Not
only
did
he
assure
Martin
that
he
was
a
poet
,
but
Martin
learned
that
Brissenden
also
was
one
.
He
was
swept
off
his
feet
by
the
other
’
s
work
,
and
astounded
that
no
attempt
had
been
made
to
publish
it
.
"
A
plague
on
all
their
houses
!
"
was
Brissenden
’
s
answer
to
Martin
’
s
volunteering
to
market
his
work
for
him
.
"
Love
Beauty
for
its
own
sake
,
"
was
his
counsel
,
"
and
leave
the
magazines
alone
.
Back
to
your
ships
and
your
sea
—
that
’
s
my
advice
to
you
,
Martin
Eden
.
What
do
you
want
in
these
sick
and
rotten
cities
of
men
?
You
are
cutting
your
throat
every
day
you
waste
in
them
trying
to
prostitute
beauty
to
the
needs
of
magazinedom
.
What
was
it
you
quoted
me
the
other
day
?
—
Oh
,
yes
,
‘
Man
,
the
latest
of
the
ephemera
.
’
Well
,
what
do
you
,
the
latest
of
the
ephemera
,
want
with
fame
?
If
you
got
it
,
it
would
be
poison
to
you
.
You
are
too
simple
,
too
elemental
,
and
too
rational
,
by
my
faith
,
to
prosper
on
such
pap
.
I
hope
you
never
do
sell
a
line
to
the
magazines
.
Beauty
is
the
only
master
to
serve
.
Serve
her
and
damn
the
multitude
!
Success
!
What
in
hell
’
s
success
if
it
isn
’
t
right
there
in
your
Stevenson
sonnet
,
which
outranks
Henley
’
s
‘
Apparition
,
’
in
that
‘
Love
-
cycle
,
’
in
those
sea
-
poems
?
"
It
is
not
in
what
you
succeed
in
doing
that
you
get
your
joy
,
but
in
the
doing
of
it
.
You
can
’
t
tell
me
.
I
know
it
.
You
know
it
.
Beauty
hurts
you
.
It
is
an
everlasting
pain
in
you
,
a
wound
that
does
not
heal
,
a
knife
of
flame
.
Why
should
you
palter
with
magazines
?
Let
beauty
be
your
end
.
Why
should
you
mint
beauty
into
gold
?
Anyway
,
you
can
’
t
;
so
there
’
s
no
use
in
my
getting
excited
over
it
.
You
can
read
the
magazines
for
a
thousand
years
and
you
won
’
t
find
the
value
of
one
line
of
Keats
.
Leave
fame
and
coin
alone
,
sign
away
on
a
ship
to
-
morrow
,
and
go
back
to
your
sea
.
"
"
Not
for
fame
,
but
for
love
,
"
Martin
laughed
.
"
Love
seems
to
have
no
place
in
your
Cosmos
;
in
mine
,
Beauty
is
the
handmaiden
of
Love
.
"
Brissenden
looked
at
him
pityingly
and
admiringly
.
"
You
are
so
young
,
Martin
boy
,
so
young
.
You
will
flutter
high
,
but
your
wings
are
of
the
finest
gauze
,
dusted
with
the
fairest
pigments
.
Do
not
scorch
them
.
But
of
course
you
have
scorched
them
already
.
It
required
some
glorified
petticoat
to
account
for
that
‘
Love
-
cycle
,
’
and
that
’
s
the
shame
of
it
.
"
"
It
glorifies
love
as
well
as
the
petticoat
,
"
Martin
laughed
.
"
The
philosophy
of
madness
,
"
was
the
retort
.
"
So
have
I
assured
myself
when
wandering
in
hasheesh
dreams
.
But
beware
.
These
bourgeois
cities
will
kill
you
.
Look
at
that
den
of
traitors
where
I
met
you
.
Dry
rot
is
no
name
for
it
.
One
can
’
t
keep
his
sanity
in
such
an
atmosphere
.
It
’
s
degrading
.
There
’
s
not
one
of
them
who
is
not
degrading
,
man
and
woman
,
all
of
them
animated
stomachs
guided
by
the
high
intellectual
and
artistic
impulses
of
clams
—
"
He
broke
off
suddenly
and
regarded
Martin
.
Then
,
with
a
flash
of
divination
,
he
saw
the
situation
.
The
expression
on
his
face
turned
to
wondering
horror
.
"
And
you
wrote
that
tremendous
‘
Love
-
cycle
’
to
her
—
that
pale
,
shrivelled
,
female
thing
!
"
The
next
instant
Martin
’
s
right
hand
had
shot
to
a
throttling
clutch
on
his
throat
,
and
he
was
being
shaken
till
his
teeth
rattled
.
But
Martin
,
looking
into
his
eyes
,
saw
no
fear
there
,
—
naught
but
a
curious
and
mocking
devil
.
Martin
remembered
himself
,
and
flung
Brissenden
,
by
the
neck
,
sidelong
upon
the
bed
,
at
the
same
moment
releasing
his
hold
.
