-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Кнут Гамсун
-
- Голод
-
- Стр. 96/143
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
I
go
very
coolly
down
Vognmansgaden
,
without
fear
of
being
conscious
of
doing
any
wrong
.
Kierulf
,
this
dealer
in
wool
,
who
has
spooked
in
my
brain
so
long
--
this
creature
in
whose
existence
I
believe
,
and
whom
it
was
of
vital
importance
that
I
should
meet
--
had
vanished
from
my
memory
;
was
wiped
out
with
many
other
mad
whims
which
came
and
went
in
turns
.
I
recalled
him
no
longer
,
except
as
a
reminiscence
--
a
phantom
.
In
measure
,
as
I
walked
on
,
I
become
more
and
more
sober
;
felt
languid
and
weary
,
and
dragged
my
legs
after
me
.
The
snow
still
fell
in
great
moist
flakes
.
At
last
I
reached
Gronland
;
far
out
,
near
the
church
,
I
sat
down
to
rest
on
a
seat
.
All
the
passers-by
looked
at
me
with
much
astonishment
.
I
fell
a-thinking
.
Thou
good
God
,
what
a
miserable
plight
I
have
come
to
!
I
was
so
heartily
tired
and
weary
of
all
my
miserable
life
that
I
did
not
find
it
worth
the
trouble
of
fighting
any
longer
to
preserve
it
.
Adversity
had
gained
the
upper
hand
;
it
had
been
too
strong
for
me
.
I
had
become
so
strangely
poverty-stricken
and
broken
,
a
mere
shadow
of
what
I
once
had
been
;
my
shoulders
were
sunken
right
down
on
one
side
,
and
I
had
contracted
a
habit
of
stooping
forward
fearfully
as
I
walked
,
in
order
to
spare
my
chest
what
little
I
could
.
I
had
examined
my
body
a
few
days
ago
,
one
noon
up
in
my
room
,
and
I
had
stood
and
cried
over
it
the
whole
time
.
I
had
worn
the
same
shirt
for
many
weeks
,
and
it
was
quite
stiff
with
stale
sweat
,
and
had
chafed
my
skin
.
A
little
blood
and
water
ran
out
of
the
sore
place
;
it
did
not
hurt
much
,
but
it
was
very
tiresome
to
have
this
tender
place
in
the
middle
of
my
stomach
.
I
had
no
remedy
for
it
,
and
it
would
n't
heal
of
its
own
accord
.
I
washed
it
,
dried
it
carefully
,
and
put
on
the
same
shirt
.
There
was
no
help
for
it
,
it
...
.
I
sit
there
on
the
bench
and
ponder
over
all
this
,
and
am
sad
enough
.
I
loathe
myself
.
My
very
hands
seem
distasteful
to
me
;
the
loose
,
almost
coarse
,
expression
of
the
backs
of
them
pains
me
,
disgusts
me
.
I
feel
myself
rudely
affected
by
the
sight
of
my
lean
fingers
.
I
hate
the
whole
of
my
gaunt
,
shrunken
body
,
and
shrink
from
bearing
it
,
from
feeling
it
envelop
me
.
Lord
,
if
the
whole
thing
would
come
to
an
end
now
,
I
would
heartily
,
gladly
die
!
Completely
worsted
,
soiled
,
defiled
,
and
debased
in
my
own
estimation
,
I
rose
mechanically
and
commenced
to
turn
my
steps
homewards
.
On
the
way
I
passed
a
door
,
upon
which
the
following
was
to
be
read
on
a
plate
--
"
Winding-sheets
to
be
had
at
Miss
Andersen
's
,
door
to
the
right
.
"
Old
memories
!
I
muttered
,
as
my
thoughts
flew
back
to
my
former
room
in
Hammersborg
.
The
little
rocking-chair
,
the
newspapers
near
the
door
,
the
lighthouse
director
's
announcement
,
and
Fabian
Olsen
,
the
baker
's
new
-
baked
bread
.
Ah
yes
;
times
were
better
with
me
then
than
now
;
one
night
I
had
written
a
tale
for
ten
shillings
,
now
I
could
n't
write
anything
.
My
head
grew
light
as
soon
as
ever
I
attempted
it
.
Yes
,
I
would
put
an
end
to
it
now
;
and
I
went
on
and
on
.
As
I
got
nearer
and
nearer
to
the
provision
shop
,
I
had
the
half-conscious
feeling
of
approaching
a
danger
,
but
I
determined
to
stick
to
my
purpose
;
I
would
give
myself
up
.
I
ran
quickly
up
the
steps
.
At
the
door
I
met
a
little
girl
who
was
carrying
a
cup
in
her
hands
,
and
I
slipped
past
her
and
opened
the
door
.
The
shop
boy
and
I
stand
face
to
face
alone
for
the
second
time
.
"
Well
!
"
he
exclaims
;
"
fearfully
bad
weather
now
,
is
n't
it
?
"
What
did
this
going
round
the
bush
signify
?
Why
did
n't
he
seize
me
at
once
?
I
got
furious
,
and
cried
:
"
Oh
,
I
have
n't
come
to
prate
about
the
weather
.
"
This
violent
preliminary
takes
him
aback
;
his
little
huckster
brain
fails
him
.
It
has
never
even
occurred
to
him
that
I
have
cheated
him
of
five
shillings
.
