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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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- Стр. 8/241
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Never
had
he
been
at
such
an
altitude
of
living
,
and
he
kept
himself
in
the
background
,
listening
,
observing
,
and
pleasuring
,
replying
in
reticent
monosyllables
,
saying
,
"
Yes
,
miss
,
"
and
"
No
,
miss
,
"
to
her
,
and
"
Yes
,
ma
’
am
,
"
and
"
No
,
ma
’
am
,
"
to
her
mother
.
He
curbed
the
impulse
,
arising
out
of
his
sea
-
training
,
to
say
"
Yes
,
sir
,
"
and
"
No
,
sir
,
"
to
her
brothers
.
He
felt
that
it
would
be
inappropriate
and
a
confession
of
inferiority
on
his
part
—
which
would
never
do
if
he
was
to
win
to
her
.
Also
,
it
was
a
dictate
of
his
pride
.
"
By
God
!
"
he
cried
to
himself
,
once
;
"
I
’
m
just
as
good
as
them
,
and
if
they
do
know
lots
that
I
don
’
t
,
I
could
learn
’
m
a
few
myself
,
all
the
same
!
"
And
the
next
moment
,
when
she
or
her
mother
addressed
him
as
"
Mr
.
Eden
,
"
his
aggressive
pride
was
forgotten
,
and
he
was
glowing
and
warm
with
delight
.
He
was
a
civilized
man
,
that
was
what
he
was
,
shoulder
to
shoulder
,
at
dinner
,
with
people
he
had
read
about
in
books
.
He
was
in
the
books
himself
,
adventuring
through
the
printed
pages
of
bound
volumes
.
But
while
he
belied
Arthur
’
s
description
,
and
appeared
a
gentle
lamb
rather
than
a
wild
man
,
he
was
racking
his
brains
for
a
course
of
action
.
He
was
no
gentle
lamb
,
and
the
part
of
second
fiddle
would
never
do
for
the
high
-
pitched
dominance
of
his
nature
.
He
talked
only
when
he
had
to
,
and
then
his
speech
was
like
his
walk
to
the
table
,
filled
with
jerks
and
halts
as
he
groped
in
his
polyglot
vocabulary
for
words
,
debating
over
words
he
knew
were
fit
but
which
he
feared
he
could
not
pronounce
,
rejecting
other
words
he
knew
would
not
be
understood
or
would
be
raw
and
harsh
.
But
all
the
time
he
was
oppressed
by
the
consciousness
that
this
carefulness
of
diction
was
making
a
booby
of
him
,
preventing
him
from
expressing
what
he
had
in
him
.
Also
,
his
love
of
freedom
chafed
against
the
restriction
in
much
the
same
way
his
neck
chafed
against
the
starched
fetter
of
a
collar
.
Besides
,
he
was
confident
that
he
could
not
keep
it
up
.
He
was
by
nature
powerful
of
thought
and
sensibility
,
and
the
creative
spirit
was
restive
and
urgent
.
He
was
swiftly
mastered
by
the
concept
or
sensation
in
him
that
struggled
in
birth
-
throes
to
receive
expression
and
form
,
and
then
he
forgot
himself
and
where
he
was
,
and
the
old
words
—
the
tools
of
speech
he
knew
—
slipped
out
.
Once
,
he
declined
something
from
the
servant
who
interrupted
and
pestered
at
his
shoulder
,
and
he
said
,
shortly
and
emphatically
,
"
Pew
!
"
On
the
instant
those
at
the
table
were
keyed
up
and
expectant
,
the
servant
was
smugly
pleased
,
and
he
was
wallowing
in
mortification
.
But
he
recovered
himself
quickly
.
"
It
’
s
the
Kanaka
for
‘
finish
,
’
"
he
explained
,
"
and
it
just
come
out
naturally
.
It
’
s
spelt
p
-
a
-
u
.
"
He
caught
her
curious
and
speculative
eyes
fixed
on
his
hands
,
and
,
being
in
explanatory
mood
,
he
said
:
-
"
I
just
come
down
the
Coast
on
one
of
the
Pacific
mail
steamers
.
She
was
behind
time
,
an
’
around
the
Puget
Sound
ports
we
worked
like
niggers
,
storing
cargo
-
mixed
freight
,
if
you
know
what
that
means
.
That
’
s
how
the
skin
got
knocked
off
.
"
"
Oh
,
it
wasn
’
t
that
,
"
she
hastened
to
explain
,
in
turn
.
"
Your
hands
seemed
too
small
for
your
body
.
"
His
cheeks
were
hot
.
He
took
it
as
an
exposure
of
another
of
his
deficiencies
.
