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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 362/416
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“
You
are
a
very
young
man
.
Control
the
road
!
Can
I
stop
it
?
I
can
go
into
bankruptcy
if
you
like
.
But
otherwise
if
I
run
my
road
,
as
a
business
proposition
,
I
can
do
nothing
.
I
can
not
control
it
.
It
is
a
force
born
out
of
certain
conditions
,
and
I
—
no
man
—
can
stop
it
or
control
it
.
Can
your
Mr
.
Derrick
stop
the
Wheat
growing
?
He
can
burn
his
crop
,
or
he
can
give
it
away
,
or
sell
it
for
a
cent
a
bushel
—
just
as
I
could
go
into
bankruptcy
—
but
otherwise
his
Wheat
must
grow
.
Can
any
one
stop
the
Wheat
?
Well
,
then
no
more
can
I
stop
the
Road
.
”
Presley
regained
the
street
stupefied
,
his
brain
in
a
whirl
.
This
new
idea
,
this
new
conception
dumfounded
him
.
Somehow
,
he
could
not
deny
it
.
It
rang
with
the
clear
reverberation
of
truth
.
Was
no
one
,
then
,
to
blame
for
the
horror
at
the
irrigating
ditch
?
Forces
,
conditions
,
laws
of
supply
and
demand
—
were
these
then
the
enemies
,
after
all
?
Not
enemies
;
there
was
no
malevolence
in
Nature
.
Colossal
indifference
only
,
a
vast
trend
toward
appointed
goals
.
Nature
was
,
then
,
a
gigantic
engine
,
a
vast
cyclopean
power
,
huge
,
terrible
,
a
leviathan
with
a
heart
of
steel
,
knowing
no
compunction
,
no
forgiveness
,
no
tolerance
;
crushing
out
the
human
atom
standing
in
its
way
,
with
nirvanic
calm
,
the
agony
of
destruction
sending
never
a
jar
,
never
the
faintest
tremour
through
all
that
prodigious
mechanism
of
wheels
and
cogs
.
He
went
to
his
club
and
ate
his
supper
alone
,
in
gloomy
agitation
.
He
was
sombre
,
brooding
,
lost
in
a
dark
maze
of
gloomy
reflections
.
However
,
just
as
he
was
rising
from
the
table
an
incident
occurred
that
for
the
moment
roused
him
and
sharply
diverted
his
mind
.
His
table
had
been
placed
near
a
window
and
as
he
was
sipping
his
after
-
dinner
coffee
,
he
happened
to
glance
across
the
street
.
His
eye
was
at
once
caught
by
the
sight
of
a
familiar
figure
.
Was
it
Minna
Hooven
?
The
figure
turned
the
street
corner
and
was
lost
to
sight
;
but
it
had
been
strangely
like
.
On
the
moment
,
Presley
had
risen
from
the
table
and
,
clapping
on
his
hat
,
had
hurried
into
the
streets
,
where
the
lamps
were
already
beginning
to
shine
.
But
search
though
he
would
,
Presley
could
not
again
come
upon
the
young
woman
,
in
whom
he
fancied
he
had
seen
the
daughter
of
the
unfortunate
German
.
At
last
,
he
gave
up
the
hunt
,
and
returning
to
his
club
—
at
this
hour
almost
deserted
—
smoked
a
few
cigarettes
,
vainly
attempted
to
read
from
a
volume
of
essays
in
the
library
,
and
at
last
,
nervous
,
distraught
,
exhausted
,
retired
to
his
bed
.
But
none
the
less
,
Presley
had
not
been
mistaken
.
The
girl
whom
he
had
tried
to
follow
had
been
indeed
Minna
Hooven
.
When
Minna
,
a
week
before
this
time
,
had
returned
to
the
lodging
house
on
Castro
Street
,
after
a
day
’
s
unsuccessful
effort
to
find
employment
,
and
was
told
that
her
mother
and
Hilda
had
gone
,
she
was
struck
speechless
with
surprise
and
dismay
.
She
had
never
before
been
in
any
town
larger
than
Bonneville
,
and
now
knew
not
which
way
to
turn
nor
how
to
account
for
the
disappearance
of
her
mother
and
little
Hilda
.
That
the
landlady
was
on
the
point
of
turning
them
out
,
she
understood
,
but
it
had
been
agreed
that
the
family
should
be
allowed
to
stay
yet
one
more
day
,
in
the
hope
that
Minna
would
find
work
.
Of
this
she
reminded
the
land
-
lady
.
But
this
latter
at
once
launched
upon
her
such
a
torrent
of
vituperation
,
that
the
girl
was
frightened
to
speechless
submission
.
“
Oh
,
oh
,
”
she
faltered
,
“
I
know
.
I
am
sorry
.
I
know
we
owe
you
money
,
but
where
did
my
mother
go
?
I
only
want
to
find
her
.
”
