Голод/Hunger (Кнут Гамсун). Страница 80 из 143

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The

food

commenced

to

take

effect

.

I

suffered

much

from

it

,

and

could

not

keep

it

down

for

any

length

of

time

.

I

had

to

empty

my

mouth

a

little

at

every

dark

corner

I

came

to

.

I

struggled

to

master

this

nausea

which

threatened

to

hollow

me

out

anew

,

clenched

my

hands

,

and

tried

to

fight

it

down

;

stamped

on

the

pavement

,

and

gulped

down

furiously

whatever

sought

to

come

up

.

All

in

vain

.

I

sprang

at

last

into

a

doorway

,

doubled

up

,

head

foremost

,

blinded

with

the

water

which

gushed

from

my

eyes

,

and

vomited

once

more

.

I

was

seized

with

bitterness

,

and

wept

as

I

went

along

the

street

...

.

I

cursed

the

cruel

powers

,

whoever

they

might

be

,

that

persecuted

me

so

,

consigned

them

to

hell

's

damnation

and

eternal

torments

for

their

petty

persecution

.

There

was

but

little

chivalry

in

fate

,

really

little

enough

chivalry

;

one

was

forced

to

admit

that

.

I

went

over

to

a

man

staring

into

a

shop-window

,

and

asked

him

in

great

haste

what

,

according

to

his

opinion

,

should

one

give

a

man

who

had

been

starving

for

a

long

time

.

It

was

a

matter

of

life

and

death

,

I

said

;

he

could

n't

even

keep

beef

down

.

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"

I

have

heard

say

that

milk

is

a

good

thing

--

hot

milk

,

"

answered

the

man

,

astonished

.

"

Who

is

it

,

by

the

way

,

you

are

asking

for

?

"

"

Thanks

,

thanks

,

"

I

say

;

"

that

idea

of

hot

milk

might

not

be

half

a

bad

notion

;

"

and

I

go

.

I

entered

the

first

café

I

came

to

going

along

,

and

asked

for

some

boiled

milk

.

I

got

the

milk

,

drank

it

down

,

hot

as

it

was

,

swallowed

it

greedily

,

every

drop

,

paid

for

it

,

and

went

out

again

.

I

took

the

road

home

.

Now

something

singular

happened

.

Outside

my

door

,

leaning

against

the

lamp-post

,

and

right

under

the

glare

of

it

,

stands

a

person

of

whom

I

get

a

glimpse

from

a

long

distance

--

it

is

the

lady

dressed

in

black

again

.

The

same

black-clad

lady

of

the

other

evenings

.

There

could

be

no

mistake

about

it

;

she

had

turned

up

at

the

same

spot

for

the

fourth

time

.

She

is

standing

perfectly

motionless

.

I

find

this

so

peculiar

that

I

involuntarily

slacken

my

pace

.

At

this

moment

my

thoughts

are

in

good

working

order

,

but

I

am

much

excited

;

my

nerves

are

irritated

by

my

last

meal

.

I

pass

her

by

as

usual

;

am

almost

at

the

door

and

on

the

point

of

entering

.

There

I

stop

.

All

of

a

sudden

an

inspiration

seizes

me

.

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Without

rendering

myself

any

account

of

it

,

I

turn

round

and

go

straight

up

to

the

lady

,

look

her

in

the

face

,

and

bow

.

"

Good-evening

.

"

"

Good-evening

,

"

she

answers

.

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