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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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Once
he
dared
,
one
afternoon
,
when
he
found
her
in
the
darkened
living
room
with
a
blinding
headache
.
"
Nothing
can
do
it
any
good
,
"
she
had
answered
his
inquiries
.
"
And
besides
,
I
don
’
t
take
headache
powders
.
Doctor
Hall
won
’
t
permit
me
.
"
"
I
can
cure
it
,
I
think
,
and
without
drugs
,
"
was
Martin
’
s
answer
.
"
I
am
not
sure
,
of
course
,
but
I
’
d
like
to
try
.
It
’
s
simply
massage
.
I
learned
the
trick
first
from
the
Japanese
.
They
are
a
race
of
masseurs
,
you
know
.
Then
I
learned
it
all
over
again
with
variations
from
the
Hawaiians
.
They
call
it
lomi
-
lomi
.
It
can
accomplish
most
of
the
things
drugs
accomplish
and
a
few
things
that
drugs
can
’
t
.
"
Scarcely
had
his
hands
touched
her
head
when
she
sighed
deeply
.
"
That
is
so
good
,
"
she
said
.
She
spoke
once
again
,
half
an
hour
later
,
when
she
asked
,
"
Aren
’
t
you
tired
?
"
The
question
was
perfunctory
,
and
she
knew
what
the
answer
would
be
.
Then
she
lost
herself
in
drowsy
contemplation
of
the
soothing
balm
of
his
strength
:
Life
poured
from
the
ends
of
his
fingers
,
driving
the
pain
before
it
,
or
so
it
seemed
to
her
,
until
with
the
easement
of
pain
,
she
fell
asleep
and
he
stole
away
.
She
called
him
up
by
telephone
that
evening
to
thank
him
.
"
I
slept
until
dinner
,
"
she
said
.
"
You
cured
me
completely
,
Mr
.
Eden
,
and
I
don
’
t
know
how
to
thank
you
.
"
He
was
warm
,
and
bungling
of
speech
,
and
very
happy
,
as
he
replied
to
her
,
and
there
was
dancing
in
his
mind
,
throughout
the
telephone
conversation
,
the
memory
of
Browning
and
of
sickly
Elizabeth
Barrett
.
What
had
been
done
could
be
done
again
,
and
he
,
Martin
Eden
,
could
do
it
and
would
do
it
for
Ruth
Morse
.
He
went
back
to
his
room
and
to
the
volume
of
Spencer
’
s
"
Sociology
"
lying
open
on
the
bed
.
But
he
could
not
read
.
Love
tormented
him
and
overrode
his
will
,
so
that
,
despite
all
determination
,
he
found
himself
at
the
little
ink
-
stained
table
.
The
sonnet
he
composed
that
night
was
the
first
of
a
love
-
cycle
of
fifty
sonnets
which
was
completed
within
two
months
.
He
had
the
"
Love
-
sonnets
from
the
Portuguese
"
in
mind
as
he
wrote
,
and
he
wrote
under
the
best
conditions
for
great
work
,
at
a
climacteric
of
living
,
in
the
throes
of
his
own
sweet
love
-
madness
.
The
many
hours
he
was
not
with
Ruth
he
devoted
to
the
"
Love
-
cycle
,
"
to
reading
at
home
,
or
to
the
public
reading
-
rooms
,
where
he
got
more
closely
in
touch
with
the
magazines
of
the
day
and
the
nature
of
their
policy
and
content
.
The
hours
he
spent
with
Ruth
were
maddening
alike
in
promise
and
in
inconclusiveness
.
It
was
a
week
after
he
cured
her
headache
that
a
moonlight
sail
on
Lake
Merritt
was
proposed
by
Norman
and
seconded
by
Arthur
and
Olney
.
Martin
was
the
only
one
capable
of
handling
a
boat
,
and
he
was
pressed
into
service
.
Ruth
sat
near
him
in
the
stern
,
while
the
three
young
fellows
lounged
amidships
,
deep
in
a
wordy
wrangle
over
"
frat
"
affairs
.
