-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Кнут Гамсун
-
- Голод
-
- Стр. 40/143
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Good
Lord
!
"
thought
I
,
wrathfully
,
"
what
things
you
do
take
into
your
head
:
running
about
like
a
madman
through
the
soaking
wet
streets
on
dark
nights
.
"
My
hunger
was
now
tormenting
me
excruciatingly
,
and
gave
me
no
rest
.
Again
and
again
I
swallowed
saliva
to
try
and
satisfy
myself
a
little
;
I
fancied
it
helped
.
I
had
been
pinched
,
too
,
for
food
for
ever
so
many
weeks
before
this
last
period
set
in
,
and
my
strength
had
diminished
considerably
of
late
.
When
I
had
been
lucky
enough
to
raise
five
shillings
by
some
manoeuvre
or
another
they
only
lasted
any
time
with
difficulty
;
not
long
enough
for
me
to
be
restored
to
health
before
a
new
hunger
period
set
in
and
reduced
me
again
.
My
back
and
shoulders
caused
me
the
worst
trouble
.
I
could
stop
the
little
gnawing
I
had
in
my
chest
by
coughing
hard
,
or
bending
well
forward
as
I
walked
,
but
I
had
no
remedy
for
back
and
shoulders
.
Whatever
was
the
reason
that
things
would
not
brighten
up
for
me
?
Was
I
not
just
as
much
entitled
to
live
as
any
one
else
?
for
example
,
as
Bookseller
Pascha
or
Steam
Agent
Hennechen
?
Had
I
not
two
shoulders
like
a
giant
,
and
two
strong
hands
to
work
with
?
and
had
I
not
,
in
sooth
,
even
applied
for
a
place
as
wood-chopper
in
Möllergaden
in
order
to
earn
my
daily
bread
?
Was
I
lazy
?
Had
I
not
applied
for
situations
,
attended
lectures
,
written
articles
,
and
worked
day
and
night
like
a
man
possessed
?
Had
I
not
lived
like
a
miser
,
eaten
bread
and
milk
when
I
had
plenty
,
bread
alone
when
I
had
little
,
and
starved
when
I
had
nothing
?
Did
I
live
in
an
hotel
?
Had
I
a
suite
of
rooms
on
the
first
floor
?
Why
,
I
am
living
in
a
loft
over
a
tinker
's
workshop
,
a
loft
already
forsaken
by
God
and
man
last
winter
,
because
the
snow
blew
in
.
So
I
could
not
understand
the
whole
thing
;
not
a
bit
of
it
.
I
slouched
on
,
and
dwelt
upon
all
this
,
and
there
was
not
as
much
as
a
spark
of
bitterness
or
malice
or
envy
in
my
mind
.
I
halted
at
a
paint-shop
and
gazed
into
the
window
.
I
tried
to
read
the
labels
on
a
couple
of
the
tins
,
but
it
was
too
dark
.
Vexed
with
myself
over
this
new
whim
,
and
excited
--
almost
angry
at
not
being
able
to
make
out
what
these
tins
held
,
--
I
rapped
twice
sharply
on
the
window
and
went
on
.
Up
the
street
I
saw
a
policeman
.
I
quickened
my
pace
,
went
close
up
to
him
,
and
said
,
without
the
slightest
provocation
,
"
It
is
ten
o'clock
.
"
"
No
,
it
's
two
,
"
he
answered
,
amazed
.
"
No
,
it
's
ten
,
"
I
persisted
;
"
it
is
ten
o'clock
!
"
and
,
groaning
with
anger
,
I
stepped
yet
a
pace
or
two
nearer
,
clenched
my
fist
,
and
said
,
"
Listen
,
do
you
know
what
,
it
's
ten
o'clock
!
"
He
stood
and
considered
a
while
,
summed
up
my
appearance
,
stared
aghast
at
me
,
and
at
last
said
,
quite
gently
,
"
In
any
case
,
it
's
about
time
ye
were
getting
home
.
Would
ye
like
me
to
go
with
ye
a
bit
?
"
