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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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- Стр. 190/241
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She
was
hurt
and
outraged
by
what
had
taken
place
,
and
yet
she
lay
in
his
arms
and
quivered
while
he
went
on
muttering
,
"
The
beasts
!
The
beasts
!
"
And
she
still
lay
there
when
he
said
:
"
I
’
ll
not
bother
your
table
again
,
dear
.
They
do
not
like
me
,
and
it
is
wrong
of
me
to
thrust
my
objectionable
presence
upon
them
.
Besides
,
they
are
just
as
objectionable
to
me
.
Faugh
!
They
are
sickening
.
And
to
think
of
it
,
I
dreamed
in
my
innocence
that
the
persons
who
sat
in
the
high
places
,
who
lived
in
fine
houses
and
had
educations
and
bank
accounts
,
were
worth
while
!
"
"
Come
on
,
let
’
s
go
down
to
the
local
.
"
So
spoke
Brissenden
,
faint
from
a
hemorrhage
of
half
an
hour
before
—
the
second
hemorrhage
in
three
days
.
The
perennial
whiskey
glass
was
in
his
hands
,
and
he
drained
it
with
shaking
fingers
.
"
What
do
I
want
with
socialism
?
"
Martin
demanded
.
"
Outsiders
are
allowed
five
-
minute
speeches
,
"
the
sick
man
urged
.
"
Get
up
and
spout
.
Tell
them
why
you
don
’
t
want
socialism
.
Tell
them
what
you
think
about
them
and
their
ghetto
ethics
.
Slam
Nietzsche
into
them
and
get
walloped
for
your
pains
.
Make
a
scrap
of
it
.
It
will
do
them
good
.
Discussion
is
what
they
want
,
and
what
you
want
,
too
.
You
see
,
I
’
d
like
to
see
you
a
socialist
before
I
’
m
gone
.
It
will
give
you
a
sanction
for
your
existence
.
It
is
the
one
thing
that
will
save
you
in
the
time
of
disappointment
that
is
coming
to
you
.
"
"
I
never
can
puzzle
out
why
you
,
of
all
men
,
are
a
socialist
,
"
Martin
pondered
.
"
You
detest
the
crowd
so
.
Surely
there
is
nothing
in
the
canaille
to
recommend
it
to
your
aesthetic
soul
.
"
He
pointed
an
accusing
finger
at
the
whiskey
glass
which
the
other
was
refilling
.
"
Socialism
doesn
’
t
seem
to
save
you
.
"
"
I
’
m
very
sick
,
"
was
the
answer
.
"
With
you
it
is
different
.
You
have
health
and
much
to
live
for
,
and
you
must
be
handcuffed
to
life
somehow
.
As
for
me
,
you
wonder
why
I
am
a
socialist
.
I
’
ll
tell
you
.
It
is
because
Socialism
is
inevitable
;
because
the
present
rotten
and
irrational
system
cannot
endure
;
because
the
day
is
past
for
your
man
on
horseback
.
The
slaves
won
’
t
stand
for
it
.
They
are
too
many
,
and
willy
-
nilly
they
’
ll
drag
down
the
would
-
be
equestrian
before
ever
he
gets
astride
.
You
can
’
t
get
away
from
them
,
and
you
’
ll
have
to
swallow
the
whole
slave
-
morality
.
It
’
s
not
a
nice
mess
,
I
’
ll
allow
.
But
it
’
s
been
a
-
brewing
and
swallow
it
you
must
.
You
are
antediluvian
anyway
,
with
your
Nietzsche
ideas
.
The
past
is
past
,
and
the
man
who
says
history
repeats
itself
is
a
liar
.
Of
course
I
don
’
t
like
the
crowd
,
but
what
’
s
a
poor
chap
to
do
?
We
can
’
t
have
the
man
on
horseback
,
and
anything
is
preferable
to
the
timid
swine
that
now
rule
.
But
come
on
,
anyway
.
I
’
m
loaded
to
the
guards
now
,
and
if
I
sit
here
any
longer
,
I
’
ll
get
drunk
.
And
you
know
the
doctor
says
—
damn
the
doctor
!
I
’
ll
fool
him
yet
.
"
It
was
Sunday
night
,
and
they
found
the
small
hall
packed
by
the
Oakland
socialists
,
chiefly
members
of
the
working
class
.
The
speaker
,
a
clever
Jew
,
won
Martin
’
s
admiration
at
the
same
time
that
he
aroused
his
antagonism
.
The
man
’
s
stooped
and
narrow
shoulders
and
weazened
chest
proclaimed
him
the
true
child
of
the
crowded
ghetto
,
and
strong
on
Martin
was
the
age
-
long
struggle
of
the
feeble
,
wretched
slaves
against
the
lordly
handful
of
men
who
had
ruled
over
them
and
would
rule
over
them
to
the
end
of
time
.
To
Martin
this
withered
wisp
of
a
creature
was
a
symbol
.
He
was
the
figure
that
stood
forth
representative
of
the
whole
miserable
mass
of
weaklings
and
inefficients
who
perished
according
to
biological
law
on
the
ragged
confines
of
life
.
They
were
the
unfit
.
In
spite
of
their
cunning
philosophy
and
of
their
antlike
proclivities
for
coöperation
,
Nature
rejected
them
for
the
exceptional
man
.
Out
of
the
plentiful
spawn
of
life
she
flung
from
her
prolific
hand
she
selected
only
the
best
.
It
was
by
the
same
method
that
men
,
aping
her
,
bred
race
-
horses
and
cucumbers
.
Doubtless
,
a
creator
of
a
Cosmos
could
have
devised
a
better
method
;
but
creatures
of
this
particular
Cosmos
must
put
up
with
this
particular
method
.
Of
course
,
they
could
squirm
as
they
perished
,
as
the
socialists
squirmed
,
as
the
speaker
on
the
platform
and
the
perspiring
crowd
were
squirming
even
now
as
they
counselled
together
for
some
new
device
with
which
to
minimize
the
penalties
of
living
and
outwit
the
Cosmos
.
