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Мартин Иден / Martin Eden

Мартин Иден / Martin Eden
Мартин Иден / Martin Eden Джек Лондон Легко читаем по-английски Роман «Мартин Иден» – одно из самых знаменитых произведений Джека Лондона. Главный герой Мартин Иден, крепкий и душевный парень из простой семьи, бывший моряк, влюбляется в Рут, девушку из состоятельной семьи. Сила любви творит чудеса: Мартин меняется как личность, занимается самообразованием, растет духовно. Он становится настоящим писателем, но когда к нему приходит невероятный успех, теряет вкус к жизни. Текст произведения подготовлен для уровня 3 Intermediate (т. е. для продолжающих учить английский язык средней ступени) и снабжен комментариями. В конце книги дается англо-русский словарь. Джек Лондон / Jack London Мартин Иден / Martin Eden © Матвеев С. А., подготовка текста, комментарии, словарь © ООО «Издательство АСТ» Chapter 1 He opened the door with a key and went in, followed by a young fellow who awkwardly removed his cap. He wore rough clothes of a sailor. He did not know what to do with his cap. The wide rooms seemed too narrow for him. His heavy arms hung at his sides. He did not know what to do with those arms and hands. He watched the easy walk of the other in front of him, and for the first time realized that his walk was different from that of other men. The sweat burst through the skin of his forehead in tiny beads, and he paused and mopped his bronzed face with his handkerchief. “Hold on, Arthur,[1 - Hold on, Arthur. – Подождите, Артур.] my boy,” he said, attempting to mask his anxiety with facetious utterance. “This is too much for me now. You know I didn’t want to come, and I guess your family doesn’t want to see me at all.” “That’s all right,” was the reassuring answer. “You mustn’t be frightened at us.[2 - You mustn’t be frightened at us. – Незачем нас бояться.] We’re just homely people – Hello, there’s a letter for me.” He stepped back to the table, opened the envelope, and began to read, giving the stranger an opportunity to recover himself. And the stranger understood and appreciated. An oil painting drew his attention. There was beauty, and it drew him irresistibly. He forgot his awkward walk and came closer to the painting, very close. He did not know painting. He had seen oil paintings, it was true, in the show windows of shops, but the glass of the windows did not allow him to come closer. Then he saw the books on the table. He glanced at the titles and the authors’ names, read fragments of text, caressing the volumes with his eyes and hands, and, once, recognized a book he had read. He took a volume of Swinburne[3 - Swinburne – Суинберн (английский поэт XIX века).] and began to read. Twice he closed the book on his forefinger to look at the name of the author. Swinburne! he must remember that name. But who was Swinburne? Was he dead a hundred years or so, like most of the poets? Or was he alive still, and writing? He turned to the title-page… yes, he had written other books; well, he will go to the library in the morning and try to get some Swinburne’s books. He went back to the text and lost himself. He did not notice that a young woman had entered the room. Suddenly he heard Arthur’s voice saying: “Ruth,[4 - Ruth – Руфь] this is Mr. Eden.[5 - Mr. Eden – мистер Иден]” He closed the book. “Mr. Eden!” Everybody called him just “Eden,” or “Martin Eden,[6 - Martin Eden – Мартин Иден]” or just “Martin,” all his life. And “Mister!” It was something! And then he turned and saw the girl. She was a pale, ethereal creature, with wide, spiritual blue eyes and a wealth of golden hair. He did not know how she was dressed, except that the dress was as wonderful as she. She was like a pale gold flower upon a slender stem. No, she was a spirit, a divinity, a goddess. She looked him straight in the eyes as she shook hands, frankly, like a man. The women he had known did not shake hands that way.[7 - did not shake hands that way – жали руку по-другому] Never had he seen such a woman. “Will you sit down, Mr. Eden?” the girl was saying. “Arthur told us. It was brave of you[8 - It was brave of you. – Вы поступили так мужественно.] – ” He waved his hand and muttered that he had done nothing at all. He sat down on the edge of the chair, greatly worried by his hands. “You have such a scar on your neck, Mr. Eden,” the girl was saying. “How did it happen?” “A Mexican with a knife, miss,” he answered. “It was just a fight.” “Oh,” the girl said, in a faint, far voice, and he noticed the shock in her sensitive face. He felt a shock himself. There was a brief pause in the conversation. “This man Swineburne,[9 - Swineburne – Свинберн]” he began, “Who?” “Swineburne,” he repeated, with the same mispronunciation. “The poet.” “Swinburne,” she corrected. “Yes, that’s the chap,” he stammered, his cheeks hot again. “How long since he died?” “Why, I haven’t heard that he was dead.” She looked at him curiously. “Where did you meet him?” “I never saw him,” was the reply. “But I read some of his poetry out of that book there on the table just before you come in. How do you like his poetry?” And she began to talk quickly and easily upon the subject that he had suggested. Here was intellectual life, he thought, and here was beauty. He forgot himself and stared at her with hungry eyes. The books were true. There were such women in the world. She was one of them. “Now Longfellow[10 - Now Longfellow… – А вот Лонгфелло…] – ” she was saying. “Yes, I’ve read it,” he was glad to say so. “‘The Psalm of Life,’ ‘Excelsior,[11 - ‘Excelsior’ – «Эксцельсиор» (одно из самых популярных стихотворений Лонгфелло)]’ and… I guess that’s all.” She nodded her head and smiled, and he felt, somehow, that her smile was tolerant, pitifully tolerant. “Excuse me, miss. I guess that I don’t know much about such things. But I will know it…” It sounded like a threat. His voice was determined, his eyes were flashing. “I think you will know it,” she finished with a laugh. “You are very strong.” “Yes, I’m not an invalid,” he said. “But most of what you were saying I can’t digest, you see. I like books and poetry, but I’ve never thought about them. That’s why I can’t talk about them. How did you learn all this?” “By going to school, and by studying,” she answered. “I went to school when I was a kid,” he began to object. “Yes; but I mean high school, and lectures, and the university.” “You’ve gone to the university?” he demanded in frank amazement. “I’m going there now.” At the same moment a woman was entering the room. The girl left her chair and came to the woman. They kissed each other. That must be her mother, he thought. She was a tall, blond woman, slender, and stately, and beautiful. Chapter 2 Their journey to the dining room was a nightmare to him. But at last he had made it. The array of knives and forks frightened him. Well, he must be careful here. He glanced around the table. Opposite him was Arthur, and Arthur’s brother, Norman.[12 - Norman – Норман] How they loved each other, the members of this family! His nature wanted love. It was an organic demand of his life. He had not known that he needed love. He was glad that Mr. Morse[13 - Mr. Morse – мистер Морз] was not there. The father is too much for him, he felt sure. He had to eat as he had never eaten before, to handle strange tools. He was unaware of what he ate. It was merely food.[14 - It was merely food. – Еда как еда.] Eating was an aesthetic function. It was an intellectual function, too. His mind was stirred. He heard words that were meaningless to him, and other words that he had seen only in books. He said, “Yes, miss,” and “No, miss,” to her, and “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, ma’am,” to her mother. And when she or her mother addressed him as “Mr. Eden,” he was glowing and warm with delight. “It was brave of you to help Arthur – and you a stranger,” she said tactfully. “It was nothing at all,” he said. “Those boys were looking for trouble.[15 - were looking for trouble – нарывались на неприятности] They began to insult Arthur, and – “ He paused. Arthur continued the story, for the twentieth time, of his adventure with the drunken hooligans on the ferry-boat and of how Martin Eden had rescued him. Martin Eden nodded. He began to tell the company about his sea life, what he saw and what he knew. For the first time he became himself. And while he talked, the girl looked at him with startled eyes. His fire warmed her. She wanted to lean toward this burning, blazing man that was like a volcano full of strength, and health. Ruth saw horror in her mother’s eyes – fascinated horror, it was true, but none the less[16 - none the less – тем не менее] horror. This man from the darkness was evil. Her mother saw it, and her mother was right. She will trust her mother’s judgment in this as she had always trusted it in all things. Later, at the piano, she played for him. And she, glancing at him across her shoulder, saw something in his face. “The greatest time of my life, you see… It’s all new to me, and I like it.” “I hope you’ll visit us again,” she said, as he was saying good night to her brothers. He pulled on his cap, and was gone. “Well, what do you think of him?” Arthur demanded. “He is interesting,” she answered. “How old is he?” “Twenty – almost twenty-one. I asked him this afternoon. I didn’t think he was that young.” And I am three years older, was the thought in her mind as she kissed her brothers goodnight. Chapter 3 Martin Eden took out a brown rice paper and a pinch of Mexican tobacco. “By God![17 - By God! – Чёрт побери!]“ he said aloud, in a voice of awe and wonder. “By God!” he repeated. And yet again he murmured, “By God!” He had met the Woman. He had sat next to her at table. He had felt her hand in his, he had looked into her eyes. This feeling of the divine startled him. He had never believed in the divine. He had always been irreligious. There was no life beyond; it was here and now, then darkness everlasting. But what he had seen in her eyes was soul – immortal soul that never dies. Nobody had given him the message of immortality. But she had. She had whispered it to him the first moment she looked at him. He did not deserve such fortune. He was like a drunken man, murmuring aloud: “By God! By God!” He caught a car[18 - a car – зд. трамвай] that was going to Berkeley.[19 - Berkeley – Беркли] It was crowded with young men who were singing songs. He studied them curiously. They were university boys. They went to the same university that she did, they could know her, could see her every day if they wanted to. The car came to the two-story building with the proud sign, HIGGINBOTHAM’S CASH STORE.[20 - HIGGINBOTHAM’S CASH STORE – «Розничная торговля Хиггинботема за наличный расчёт»] Bernard Higginbotham[21 - Bernard Higginbotham – Бернард Хиггинботем] had married his sister, and he knew him well. He climbed the stairs to the second floor. Here lived his brother-in-law. He entered a room, where sat his sister and Bernard Higginbotham. Martin Eden never looked at him without repulsion. What his sister had found in that man was a mystery. “Good night,” said Martin. “Good night, Gertrude.[22 - Gertrude – Гертруда]” “Don’t bang the door,[23 - Don’t bang the door. – Не хлопай дверью.]” Mr. Higginbotham cautioned him. Martin controlled himself and closed the door softly behind him. Mr. Higginbotham looked at his wife exultantly. “He is drunk,” he proclaimed in a hoarse whisper. “I told you. A fine example to the children! If he does it again, he’s got to get out.[24 - he’s got to get out – пусть убирается отсюда]” His wife sighed, and shook her head sorrowfully. Mr. Higginbotham asked: “Has he paid last week’s board?” She nodded, then added, “He still has some money.” “When is he going to sea again?” “He was over to San Francisco yesterday looking for a ship,” she answered. “But he’s got money at the moment.” “I can give him a job: to drive the wagon,” her husband said. “Tom went away.” “I told you you’d lose him,” she cried out. “You paid him very little.” “Now look here, old woman, for the thousandth time I’ve told you to keep your nose out of the business. I won’t tell you again.” “I don’t care,” she said. “Tom was a good boy.” Her husband glared at her. “Your brother – ” he began. “He pays his board,” was the retort. “And he’s my brother, what do you want?” “I will charge him for gas: he is reading in bed,” her husband answered. Mrs. Higginbotham made no reply. Her husband was triumphant. Chapter 4 Martin Eden entered his room, a tiny hole with space for a bed, a wash-stand,[25 - a wash-stand – умывальник] and one chair. Mr. Higginbotham was too greedy to keep a servant when his wife could do the work. Martin placed the Swinburne and Browning on the chair, took off his coat, and sat down on the bed. He murmured, “Ruth.” “Ruth.” He had not thought a simple sound could be so beautiful. This name delighted his ear.[26 - This name delighted his ear. – Это имя ласкало его слух.] “Ruth.” It was a talisman, a magic word to conjure with. Each time he murmured it, her face shimmered before him. The very thought of her[27 - the very thought of her – сама мысль о ней] ennobled and purified him, made him better. This was new to him. He had never known women who had made him better. He got up abruptly and tried to see himself in the dirty looking-glass[28 - looking-glass – зеркало] over the wash-stand. It was the first time he had ever really seen himself. He saw the head and face of a young fellow of twenty. The brown sunburn of his face surprised him. He had not dreamed he was so black. His arms were sunburnt, too. He sat back on the bed with a bitter laugh, and took off his shoes. He took the Browning[29 - Browning – Браунинг] and the Swinburne from the chair and kissed them. She told me to come again, he thought. He looked at himself in the glass, and said aloud: “Martin Eden, tomorrow you go to the library and read up on etiquette.” Chapter 5 He awoke next morning in a steamy atmosphere. As he came out of his room he heard the slosh of water, a sharp exclamation. The squall of the child went through him like a knife. How different, he thought, from the atmosphere of beauty and repose of the house wherein Ruth dwelt. There it was all spiritual. Here it was all material. “Come here, Alfred,[30 - Alfred – Алфред]” he called to the crying child. He put a quarter[31 - a quarter – монета в двадцать пять центов] in the youngster’s hand and held him in his arms a moment. “Now run along and get some candy, and don’t forget to give some to your brothers and sisters.” His sister looked at him. The tears welled into her eyes. “You’ll find breakfast in the oven,” she said hurriedly. Martin went into the kitchen. Then he went downstairs and out into the street. He had debated between the Berkeley Library and the Oakland Library, and chose the latter because Ruth lived in Oakland. He wandered through endless rows of books, and did not know what to ask the man at the desk. “Did you find what you wanted?” the man at the desk asked him as he was leaving. “Yes, sir,” he answered. “You have a fine library here.” The man nodded. “We should be glad to see you here often. Are you a sailor?” “Yes, sir,” he answered. “And I’ll come again.” Now, how did he know that? he asked himself as he went down the stairs. Chapter 6 Martin Eden was afraid that he might visit Ruth too soon. He spent long hours in the Oakland and Berkeley libraries. He burned the gas late in the servant’s room, and was charged fifty cents a week for it by Mr. Higginbotham. He read many books; every page of every book was a hole into the realm of knowledge. His hunger increased. He read more of Swinburne than was contained in the volume Ruth had given him. Then he studied Kipling’s poems. Psychology was a new word in Martin’s vocabulary. He dared not go near Ruth’s house in the daytime, but at night he was lurking like a thief around the Morse home. He had undergone a moral revolution. Her cleanness and purity made him clean, too. He began to brush his teeth, and used a nail-brush. He found a book in the library on the care of the body, and promptly decided to have a cold-water bath every morning. The reform went deeper. He still smoked, but he drank no more. He was drunken in new and more profound ways – with Ruth, who had fired him with love and with a glimpse of higher and eternal life; with books, and with the sense of personal cleanliness. One night he went to the theatre, and from the second balcony he did see her. He saw her with Arthur and a strange young man with eyeglasses. He left his seat before the curtain went down on the last act. He wanted to see her again. Suddenly two girls appeared. One of them was a slender, dark girl, with black, defiant eyes. They smiled at him, and he smiled back. “Hello,” he said. It was automatic. The black-eyed girl smiled, and showed signs of stopping. At the corner where the main stream of people flowed onward, he started to follow the cross street. But the girl with the black eyes caught his arm, and cried: “Bill! Where are you going?” He halted with a laugh, and turned back. “What’s her name?” he asked the giggling girl, nodding at the dark-eyed one. “You ask her,” was the response. “Well, what is it?” he demanded, turning on the girl in question. “You didn’t tell me yours, yet,” she retorted. “You never asked it,” he smiled. “But, true, it’s Bill, all right, all right.” “Oh,” she looked him in the eyes. “What is it, honest?” Oh, he knew those girls, and knew them well, from A to Z. They work hard, they are nervously desirous for some happiness in the desert of existence. “Bill,” he answered, nodding his head. “Sure, Bill and no other.” “He isn’t Bill at all,” her friend noticed. “How do you know?” he demanded. “You never saw me before.” “No need to, to know you’re lying,” was the retort. Those girls from the factory… The cheap cloth, the cheap ribbons, and the cheap rings on the fingers. He felt a tug at his arm, and heard a voice saying: “Wake up, Bill! What’s the matter with you?” “What were you saying?” he asked. “There’s only one thing wrong with the programme,” he said aloud. “I’ve got a date already.” The girl’s eyes blazed her disappointment. “To visit a sick friend, I suppose?” she sneered. “No, a real, honest date with – ” he faltered, “with a girl. But why can’t we meet some other time? You didn’t tell me your name. And where do you live?” “Lizzie,” she replied, her hand pressing his arm, while her body leaned against his. “Lizzie Connolly.[32 - Lizzie Connolly – Лиззи Конноли]” He talked on a few minutes before saying good night. He did not go home immediately; and under the tree he looked up at a window and murmured: “That date was with you, Ruth.” Chapter 7 A week of heavy reading had passed since the evening he first met Ruth Morse, and still he dared not call. He did not know the proper time to call, and he was afraid of a blunder. He left his old companions, and has no new companions. Nothing remained for him but to read, and long hours he devoted to it. But his eyes were strong, and they were placed on a strong body. It seemed to him, by the end of the week, that he had lived centuries, so far behind[33 - so far behind – так далеко позади] was the old life. He attempted to read books that required years of studying. One day he read a book of philosophy, and the next day one that was ultra-modern. It was the same with the economists. On the one shelf at the library he found Karl Marx, Ricardo, Adam Smith, and Mill.[34 - Karl Marx, Ricardo, Adam Smith, and Mill – Карл Маркс, Рикардо, Адам Смит и Милль] Poetry, however, was his solace, and he read much of it, finding his greatest joy in the simpler poets, whom he could understand. He loved beauty, and there he found beauty. Poetry, like music, touched him profoundly. The pages of his mind were blank, so he was soon able to extract great joy from chanting aloud. He enjoyed music and the beauty of the printed words he had read. The man at the desk in the library had seen Martin there so often that he had become quite cordial, always greeting him with a smile and a nod when he entered. One day Martin asked him: “Well, there’s something I’d like to ask you.” The man smiled and paid attention. “When you meet a young lady and she asks you to come, how soon can you come?” “Why, any time,” the man answered. “Yes, but this is different,” Martin objected. “She – I – well, you see, it’s this way: maybe she won’t be there. She goes to the university.” “Then come again.” “If I could…,” he said. “I beg pardon?” “What is the best time to come? The afternoon? Or the evening? Or Sunday?” “I’ll tell you,” the librarian said with a brightening face. “You call her up on the telephone[35 - call her up on the telephone – позвонить ей по телефону] and find out.” “I’ll do it,” he said, picking up his books and starting away. He turned back and asked: “When you’re speaking to a young lady – say, for instance, Miss Lizzie Smith[36 - say, for instance, Miss Lizzie Smith – скажем, например, с мисс Лиззи Смит] – do you say ‘Miss Lizzie’? or ‘Miss Smith’?” “Say ‘Miss Smith,’” the librarian stated authoritatively. “Say ‘Miss Smith’ always – until you come to know her better.[37 - until you come to know her better – пока не познакомитесь с ней поближе]” So it was that Martin Eden solved the problem. “Please, come any time; I’ll be at home all afternoon,” was Ruth’s reply over the telephone to his request as to when he could return the borrowed books. She met him at the door herself, and her woman’s eyes noticed the certain slight but indefinable change in him for the better.[38 - change in him for the better – перемена в нём к лучшему] Also, she was struck by his face. She felt the desire to lean toward him for warmth. Once they were seated in the living-room, they talked first of the borrowed books, of Swinburne, and of Browning. Ruth wanted to help him. His neck was near, and there was sweetness in the thought of laying her hands upon it. She did not dream that the feeling he excited in her was love. She thought she was merely interested in him as an unusual type. She did not know she desired him; but with him it was different. He knew that he loved her, and he desired her as he had never before desired anything in his life. He had loved poetry for its beauty; but since he met her the gates to the vast field of love-poetry had been opened wide. His gaze wandered often toward her lips, and he yearned for them hungrily. But there was nothing gross or earthly in it. They were lips of pure spirit, and his desire for them seemed absolutely different from the desire that had led him to other women’s lips. He did not dream how ardent and masculine his gaze was, her spirit was affecting him. Her virginity exalted and disguised his own emotions, elevating his thoughts to a chastity. “I wonder if I can get some advice from you,” he began. “You remember I said I couldn’t talk about books and other things because I didn’t know how? Well, I’ve done a lot of things ever since. I never had any advantages. I’ve worked hard ever since I was a kid. I was never inside a house like this. When I come a week ago, and saw all this, and you, and your mother, and brothers, and everything – well, I liked it. I’d heard about such things and read about such things in some of the books, and when I looked around at your house, why, the books come true.[39 - why, the books come true – ну, прямо как в книжках] And I liked it. I wanted it. I want it now. I want to breathe air like you get in this house – air that is filled with books, and pictures, and beautiful things, where people talk in low voices and are clean, and their thoughts are clean. When you were crossing the room to kiss your mother, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I ever seen. I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but I want to see more. But listen, here it is. I want to enter the kind of life you have in this house. There’s more in life than drinking, and hard work. Now, how to begin? I can make most men sick when it comes to hard work.[40 - when it comes to hard work – когда дело доходит до холодной работы] Once I get started, I’ll work night and day. Maybe you think it’s funny, when I ask you about all this. I know you’re the last person in the world I ought to ask, but I don’t know anybody else I could ask – unless it’s Arthur. Maybe I must ask him. If I was – ” His voice died away. Ruth did not speak immediately. She had never looked in eyes that expressed greater power. Here was a man who could do anything. Her face was all sympathy when she began to speak. “What you need, you realize yourself, and it is education. You should go back and finish grammar school, and then go through to high school and university.” “But that takes money,” he interrupted. “Oh!” she cried. “I had not thought of that. But then you have relatives, somebody who could assist you?” He shook his head. “My father and mother are dead. I have two sisters, one married, and the other’ll get married soon, I suppose. I have brothers, – I’m the youngest, – but they never helped anybody. The oldest died in India. Two are in South Africa now, and another is travelling with a circus – he does trapeze work. All what I want to know is where to begin.” “I should say the first thing of all is the grammar. Your grammar is – ” She wanted to say “awful,” but she finished, “is not particularly good.” He flushed and sweated. “I know I talk a lot of slang and words you don’t understand. But then they’re the only words I know – how to speak. I’ve got other words in my mind, I found them from books, but I can’t pronounce them, so I don’t use them.” “It isn’t what you say, so much as how you say it. I can be frank, can’t I? I don’t want to hurt you.” “No, no,” he cried, while he secretly blessed her for her kindness. “‘You was right! I want to know these things from you than from anybody else.” “Well, then, you say, ‘You was’; it is not correct. You must say, ‘You were.’ You often say ‘I seen’ instead of ‘I saw.’ You use the double negative – ” “What’s the double negative?” he demanded; then added humbly, “You see, I don’t even understand your explanations.” “I’m afraid I didn’t explain that,” she smiled. “A double negative is – let me see – well, you say, ‘never helped nobody.’ ‘Never’ is a negative. ‘Nobody’ is another negative. It is a rule that two negatives make a positive. ‘Never helped nobody’ means that they helped somebody.” “That’s pretty clear,” he said. “I never thought of it before. I never thought of it before, and I’ll never say it again.” She was pleased and surprised with the quickness and surety of his mind. “You’ll find it all in the grammar,” she went on. “There’s something else I noticed in your speech.” Martin flushed again. “You say ‘ben’ for ‘been,’” she continued; “‘come’ for ‘came’; and the way you chop your endings is something dreadful.” “How do you mean?” He leaned forward. “How do I chop?” “You don’t complete the endings. ‘A-n-d’ spells ‘and.’ You pronounce it ‘an’.’ ‘I-n-g’ spells ‘ing.’ Sometimes you pronounce it ‘ing’ and sometimes you leave off the ‘g.’ T-h-e-m’ spells ‘them.’ You pronounce it – oh, well, what you need is the grammar. I’ll get one and show you how to begin.” She arose, and he stood up awkwardly, worrying as to whether he was doing the right thing. When she returned with the grammar, she sat down beside him. She turned the pages of the grammar, and their heads were inclined toward each other. He could scarcely breathe, and his heart was pounding the blood up into his throat and suffocating him. Chapter 8 Several weeks went by, during which Martin Eden studied his grammar, and reviewed the books on etiquette. He forgot about his friends. The girls of the Lotus Club[41 - Lotus Club – Лотос-клуб] wondered what had become of him[42 - what had become of him – что с ним приключилось] and worried everybody with questions. Martin made another discovery in the library. He found books that helped him to learn metre and construction and form. During those several weeks he saw Ruth six times, and each time was an inspiration. She helped him with his English, corrected his pronunciation, and started him on arithmetic. But their intercourse was not all devoted to elementary study. They were talking about the last poetry he had read, the latest poet she had studied. And when she read aloud to him her favorite passages, he delighted a lot. Never, in all the women, had he heard a voice like hers. The least sound of it was a stimulus to his love, and he thrilled and throbbed with every word she uttered. The situation was obscured to Ruth. She had never had any experiences of the heart.[43 - experiences of the heart – сердечные волнения] Her knowledge of love was purely theoretical, her idea of love was not clear. She did not dream of the volcanic convulsions of love. She knew neither her own powers, nor the powers of the world; and the deeps of life were to her seas of illusion. Strength! Strength was what she needed, and he gave it to her in generous measure. To come into the same room with him, or to meet him at the door, was to take heart of life.[44 - was to take heart of life – значило получить жизненный заряд] And when he had gone, she returned to her books with fresh store of energy. Her interest in Martin increased, and she wanted to rebuild his life. “There is Mr. Butler,[45 - Mr. Butler – мистер Батлер]” she said one afternoon, when grammar and arithmetic and poetry had been put aside.[46 - had been put aside – были отложены в сторону] “He had comparatively no advantages at first. His father was a bank cashier, but he died in Arizona, so that when he was dead, Mr. Butler found himself alone in the world. His father had come from Australia, you know, and so he had no relatives in California. He went to work in a printing-office, and he got three dollars a week, at first. His income today is at least thirty thousand a year. How did he do it? He was honest, and faithful, and industrious, and economical. He denied himself the enjoyments[47 - he denied himself the enjoyments – он отказывал себе в удовольствиях] that most boys like. He saved some coins every week. Of course, he was soon earning more than three dollars a week, and he saved more and more. “He worked in the daytime, and at night he went to night school. He always thought about the future. Later on he went to night high school. When he was only seventeen, he had a good salary, but he was ambitious. He wanted a career, not a livelihood. He entered father’s office as an office boy – think of that! – and got only four dollars a week. But he had learned how to be economical.” She paused for breath, and to note how Martin was receiving it. His face was lighted up with interest in the youthful struggles of Mr. Butler; but there was a frown upon his face as well. “Poor young fellow,” he remarked. “Four dollars a week! How could he live on it? Like a dog, I guess. The food he ate – ” “He cooked for himself,” she interrupted, “on a little kerosene stove.” “The food he ate was very bad, I suppose, worse than what a sailor gets.” “But think of him now!” she cried enthusiastically. “Think of what his income affords him.” Martin looked at her sharply. “There’s one thing I’ll tell you,” he said, “Mr. Butler has had no joy for years, hasn’t he? I think his stomach is not very good now. I’ll bet[48 - I’ll bet – бьюсь об заклад] he’s got dyspepsia right now!” “Yes, he has,” she confessed; “but – ” “And I bet,” Martin continued, “that he isn’t joyful when others have a good time. Am I right?” She nodded her head in agreement, and hastened to explain: “But he is not that type of man. By nature he is sober and serious. He always was that.” “Three dollars a week,” Martin proclaimed. “And four dollars a week, and a young boy cooking for himself and saving money, working all day and studying all night, just working and never playing, never having a good time, and never learning how to have a good time – of course his thirty thousand came along too late.[49 - his thirty thousand came along too late – слишком поздно пришли эти его тридцать тысяч]” “Do you know,” he added, “I feel sorry for Mr. Butler. He was too young to know better, but he robbed himself of life for the sake of thirty thousand a year. Thirty thousand, a great sum, can’t buy for him right now what ten cents could when he was a kid.” Such points of view were new to Ruth, and contrary to her own beliefs. But she was twenty-four, conservative by nature, and already crystallized into the cranny of life where she had been born and formed. It was true, his bizarre judgments troubled her, but she ascribed them to his novelty of type and strangeness of living, and they were soon forgotten. Nevertheless, Marin’s strength, and the flashing of eyes and earnestness of face thrilled her and drew her toward him. “But I have not finished my story,” she said. “He worked, so father says, as no other office boy he ever had. Mr. Butler was always eager to work. He never was late, and he was usually at the office a few minutes before his regular time. And yet he saved his time. Every spare moment was devoted to study. He quickly became a clerk, and he made himself invaluable. Father appreciated him, and he went to law college. He became a lawyer. He is a great man.” “Yes, he is a great man,” Martin said sincerely. But it seemed to him that thirty thousand a year was all right, but dyspepsia and inability to be humanly happy robbed the value of this great income. Chapter 9 Martin Eden’s store of money exhausted, and he went to the sea. He has worked as a sailor for eight months. He earned enough money to stay on land for many weeks, and he did a great deal of studying and reading.[50 - he did a great deal of studying and reading – он значительно продвинулся в своих занятиях] He mastered the grammar and noticed the bad grammar used by his shipmates. He took the dictionary and started to add twenty words a day to his vocabulary. He found that this was not an easy task. He repeated new words in order to accustom his tongue to the language spoken by Ruth. The captain possessed of a complete Shakespeare, which he never read, and Martin had washed his clothes for him and received the permission to read the precious volumes. He was touched by the exquisite beauty of the world, and wished that Ruth were there to share it with him. He decided that he would describe to her the South Sea beauty. But soon he understood that he would describe the beauty of the ocean for a wider audience than Ruth. And then came the great idea. He will write! He will write – everything – poetry and prose, fiction and description, and plays like Shakespeare. It is the way to win Ruth. The men of literature were the world’s giants, greater than Mr. Butlers. To write! This thought was fire in him. So he entered his old room at Bernard Higginbotham’s and set to work. He did not tell Ruth that he was back. He did not know how long an article he would write, but he counted the words in a article in the SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER.[51 - SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER – «Обозреватель Сан-Франциско» (название газеты)] His writing lasted for three days. Also, he learned that first-class papers paid a minimum of ten dollars a column. So one hundred dollars! and he decided that that was better than seafaring.[52 - seafaring – матросская служба] He mailed the manuscript in a big envelope, and addressed it to the editor of the SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER. He had an idea that everything sent to a newspaper was published immediately. Then he decided to write an adventure story for boys and sell it to THE YOUTH’S COMPANION.[53 - THE YOUTH’S COMPANION – «Спутник юношества» (название газеты)] He wanted to write about the things he knew. It was easy work, he decided on Saturday evening. He had completed on that day the first instalment of three thousand words. * * * After breakfast he went on with his story. He often read or re-read a chapter. This was his programme for a week. Each day he did three thousand words, and each evening he studies stories, articles, and poems that editors saw fit to publish.[54 - that editors saw fit to publish – которые нравятся издателям] One thing was certain: What these writers did he could do, and only give him time and he would do what they could not do. He was glad to read in BOOK NEWS[55 - BOOK NEWS – «Книжный бюллетень»] that Rudyard Kipling[56 - Rudyard Kipling – Редьяр Киплинг] received a dollar per word, and that the minimum rate paid by first-class magazines was two cents a word. THE YOUTH’S COMPANION was certainly first class, and at that rate the three thousand words he had written that day would bring him sixty dollars – two months’ wages on the sea![57 - two months’ wages on the sea – заработок за два месяца плавания] On Friday night he finished the story, twenty-one thousand words long. At two cents a word, he calculated, that would bring him four hundred and twenty dollars. Not a bad week’s work. It was more money than he had ever possessed at one time.[58 - at one time – сразу] He did not know how he could spend it all. He planned to buy some more clothes, to subscribe to many magazines, and to buy many useful books. And still there was a large portion of the four hundred and twenty dollars unspent. Finally, he decided to hire a servant for Gertrude and to buy a bicycle for Marion.[59 - Marion – Мэрион] He mailed the big manuscript to THE YOUTH’S COMPANION, and on Saturday afternoon he went to see Ruth. He had telephoned, and she went herself to greet him at the door. He flushed warmly as he took her hand and looked into her blue eyes. She noted his clothes. They really fitted him, – it was his first made-to-order suit.[60 - made-to-order suit – костюм, сшитый на заказ] Ruth did not remember when she had felt so happy. This change in him was her handiwork, and she was proud of it. But the most radical change of all, and the one that pleased her most, was the change in his speech. Not only did he speak more correctly, but he spoke more easily, and there were many new words in his vocabulary. He displayed a lightness and facetiousness of thought that delighted her. He told her of what he had been doing, and of his plan to write for a livelihood and to go on with his studies. But she did not think much of his plan. “You see,” she said frankly, “writing must be a trade, like anything else. You can’t become a blacksmith without spending three – or five! – years at learning the trade.” “What would you advise?” he asked. “And don’t forget that I feel in me this capacity to write – I can’t explain it; I just know that it is in me.” “You must get a good education,” was the answer, “You must go to high school.” “Yes – ” he began; but she interrupted: “Of course, you can go on with your writing, too.” “I will,” he said grimly. “Why?” She looked at him, prettily puzzled. “Because I must live and buy books and clothes, you know.” “I forgot that,” she laughed. “Why weren’t you born with an income?” “I’d rather have good health and imagination,” he answered. * * * Then she played and sang to him, while he gazed with hungry yearning at her. Chapter 10 He stopped to dinner that evening, and, much to Ruth’s satisfaction, made a favorable impression on her father. They talked about the sea as a career, and Mr. Morse remarked afterward that he seemed a very clear-headed[61 - clear-headed – здравомыслящий] young man. Martin talked slowly, which enabled him to find the best thoughts that were in him. His shyness and modesty even commended him to Mrs. Morse. “He is the first man that ever drew notice from Ruth,” she told her husband. Mr. Morse looked at his wife curiously. “You mean to use this young sailor to wake her up?” he questioned. “I mean that she is not to die an old maid if I can help it,” was the answer. “If this young Eden can arouse her interest in mankind in general, it will be a good thing.” “A very good thing,” he commented. “But suppose, – and we must suppose, sometimes, my dear, – suppose he arouses her interest too particularly in him?” “Impossible,” Mrs. Morse laughed. “She is three years older than he, and, besides, it is impossible. Trust that to me.[62 - Trust that to me. – Доверься мне.]” Sunday Martin had intended to devote to studying for the high school examination. But some days after he learned that he had failed in everything save grammar.[63 - he had failed in everything save grammar – провалился по всем предметам, за исключением грамматики] “Your grammar is excellent,” Professor Hilton[64 - Hilton – Хилтон] informed him, staring at him through heavy spectacles; “but you know nothing, positively nothing, in the other branches, and your United States history is abominable – there is no other word for it, abominable.” “Yes, sir,” Martin said humbly. “And I can advise you to go back to the grammar school for at least two years. Good day.” “You see I was right,” said Ruth. “It is because you need the discipline of study. Professor Hilton is right, and if I were you, I’d go to night school.” But if my days are taken up with work and my nights with school, when am I going to see you? – was Martin’s first thought. He said: “It seems so babyish for me to go to night school. I can do the work quicker than they can teach me. It will be a loss of time – ” he thought of her – “and I can’t afford the time. I have no time to spare, in fact.” She looked at him gently. “Physics and chemistry – you can’t do them without laboratory study; and you’ll find algebra and geometry almost hopeless with instruction. You need the skilled teachers, the specialists.” Chapter 11 Martin went back to his pearl-diving article.[65 - pearl-diving article – статья о ловцах жемчуга] After that he wrote an article on the sea as a career, and another on turtle-catching.[66 - turtle-catching – ловля черепах] Then he tried, as an experiment, a short story, and he had finished six short stories and sent them to various magazines. He wrote, intensely, from morning till night, and late at night, except when he went to the reading-room, draw books from the library, or saw Ruth. He was profoundly happy. The joy of creation was his. All the life about him – the odors of stale vegetables and soapsuds, his sad sister, and the jeering face of Mr. Higginbotham – was a dream. The real world was in his mind, and the stories he wrote were reality. The days were too short. There was so much he wanted to study. He cut his sleep down[67 - he cut his sleep down – он сократил время сна] to five hours. In the meantime the weeks were passing, his money was coming out, and there was no money coming in. A month after the adventure story for boys was returned to him by THE YOUTH’S COMPANION. The SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER did the same: at the end of the fifth week the manuscript came back to him, by mail, without comment. In the same way his other articles came back from the other leading San Francisco papers. When he recovered them, he sent them to the magazines in the East, from which they were returned more promptly. The short stories were returned in similar fashion. He read them over and over, and liked them so much that he could not understand the cause of their rejection. He decided to read some stories to his sister. “That story was perfectly grand,” she announced; “but it makes me sad. I want to cry. There is too many sad things in the world anyway. It makes me happy to think about happy things. Where are you going to sell it?” “Hm, that’s not so easy,” he laughed. “But if you DID sell it, what do you think you’d get for it?” “A hundred dollars.” “Oh! I do hope you’ll sell it!” “Easy money, eh?” Then he added proudly: “I wrote it in two days. That’s fifty dollars a day. But nobody wants to publish them.” He wanted to read his stories to Ruth, but did not dare. Chapter 12 It was the circle of socialists and working-class philosophers that gathered in the City Hall Park[68 - City Hall Park – Сити-Холл-парк] on warm afternoons that was responsible for the great discovery. Once or twice in the month, Martin listened to the arguments. The tone of discussion was much lower than at Mr. Morse’s table. The men were not grave and dignified. They lost their tempers easily.[69 - They lost their tempers easily. – Они легко выходили из себя.] They spoke about Herbert Spencer[70 - Herbert Spencer – Герберт Спенсер (английский философ и социолог, идеи которого пользовались большой популярностью в конце XIX века)] in the park. So the great discovery began. Martin tried to read Spencer, and chose the “Principles of Psychology” to begin with. But he did not understand the book, and he returned it unread. Martin Eden was very curious, and he wanted to know. This desire had sent him to travel around the world. He tried to read Spencer again. But his ignorant and unprepared attempts at philosophy had been fruitless. The medieval metaphysics of Kant[71 - Kant – Кант] had given him the key to nothing. And here was the man Spencer, organizing all knowledge for him, reducing everything to unity, elaborating ultimate realities, and presenting to him a concrete universe. There was no caprice, no chance. All was law. What most profoundly impressed Martin, was the correlation of knowledge – of all knowledge. He had been curious to know things. All things were related to all other things from the star in space to the myriads of atoms in the grain of sand[72 - the grain of sand – песчинка] under one’s foot. This new concept was a perpetual amazement to Martin. One day, because the days were so short, he decided to give up algebra, geometry, and trigonometry. Then he cut chemistry from his study-list, retaining only physics. “I am not a specialist,” he said to Ruth. “Nor am I going to try to be a specialist. There are too many special fields for any one man, in a whole lifetime, to master them. I must pursue general knowledge. When I need the work of specialists, I shall refer to their books. It is unnecessary to have this knowledge.” “Give me time,” he said aloud. “Only give me time.” Time! Time! Time! was his unending plaint. Chapter 13 No time to lose. His money meant time. He must write. He must earn money. But the newspapers and magazines refuse to publish his stories. Piles of manuscripts were travelling the endless round of the magazines. How did the others do it? He spent long hours in the library, reading what others had written, studying their work eagerly and critically, comparing it with his own, and wondering, wondering, about the secret trick they had discovered which enabled them to sell their work. No light, no life, no color, was in other writers’ stories. There was no breath of life in their work, and yet it sold,[73 - and yet it sold – и все-таки она оплачивалась] at two cents a word, twenty dollars a thousand. How did they do it?! His chief trouble was that he did not know any editors or writers. He did not know anybody who had ever attempted to write. There was nobody to tell him, to hint to him, to give him the least word of advice. He began to doubt that editors were real men. They seemed cogs in a machine. “How well you talk,” one day Ruth said to him, and he noted that she was looking at him strangely. He was all confusion and embarrassment, the blood flushing red on his neck and brow. “I want to learn to talk,” he answered. “There is so much in me I want to say. I can’t find ways to say what is really in me. But how can I? My tongue is tied. I try, but I do not succeed. My speech is very awkward. Oh! – ” he threw up his hands with a despairing gesture – “it is impossible! It is incommunicable!” “But you do talk well,” Ruth noticed. “Just think how you have improved in the short time I have known you. You can go far – if you want to. You have power. You can lead men, I am sure. You can become a good lawyer. You can shine in politics.” He read to her a story, one that was among his very best. He called it “The Wine of Life”. There was a certain magic in the original conception, and he had adorned it with more magic of phrase and touch. He was blind and deaf to the faults of it. But it was not so with Ruth. Her trained ear detected the weaknesses and exaggerations. She was disagreeably impressed with its amateurishness.[74 - amateurishness – дилетантизм] That was her final judgment on the story as a whole – amateurish, though she did not tell him so. Instead, when he had done, she pointed out the minor flaws and said that she liked the story. “You have strength,” she said, “but it is untutored strength.” “Like a bull in a china shop,” he suggested, and won a smile. “It is beautiful. It is beautiful,” she repeated, with emphasis, after a pause. Of course it was beautiful; but there was something more than mere beauty in it. He had failed. He was inarticulate. He had seen one of the greatest things in the world, and he had not expressed it. “It is too wordy. But it was beautiful, in places. You want to be famous?” she asked abruptly. “Yes, a little bit,” he confessed. “That is part of the adventure. And after all, to be famous would be, for me, only a means to something else. I want to be famous very much, for that matter, and for that reason.” “For your sake,[75 - for your sake – ради вас]” he wanted to add. “I wish you would show me all you write, Mr. Eden,” she said. He flushed with pleasure. She was interested, that was sure. And at least she had not given him a rejection slip. “I will,” he said passionately. “And I promise you, Miss Morse, that I will become a writer.” He held up a bunch of manuscript. “Here are the ‘Sea Lyrics.[76 - Sea Lyrics – «Песни моря»]’ Please tell me just what you think of them. What I need, you know, above all things, is criticism. And do, please, be frank with me.” “I will be perfectly frank,” she promised. Chapter 14 “The first battle, fought and finished,” Martin said to the looking-glass ten days later. “But there will be a second battle, and a third battle, and battles to the end of time, unless – ” He had not finished the sentence, but looked about his little room, and his eyes saw a heap of returned manuscripts, still in their long envelopes, which lay in a corner on the floor. He sat down and regarded the table thoughtfully. There were ink stains upon it, and he suddenly discovered that he loved it very much. “Dear old table,” he said, “I’ve spent some happy hours with you, and you are a good friend of mine.” He dropped his arms upon the table and buried his face in them. His throat was aching, and he wanted to cry. His knees were trembling under him, he felt faint, and he went to the bed. He looked about the room, perplexed, alarmed, wondering where he was, until he caught sight of the pile of manuscripts in the corner. He arose to his feet and confronted himself in the looking-glass. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/dzhek-london/martin-iden-martin-eden/?lfrom=390579938) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом. notes Примечания 1 Hold on, Arthur. – Подождите, Артур. 2 You mustn’t be frightened at us. – Незачем нас бояться. 3 Swinburne – Суинберн (английский поэт XIX века). 4 Ruth – Руфь 5 Mr. Eden – мистер Иден 6 Martin Eden – Мартин Иден 7 did not shake hands that way – жали руку по-другому 8 It was brave of you. – Вы поступили так мужественно. 9 Swineburne – Свинберн 10 Now Longfellow… – А вот Лонгфелло… 11 ‘Excelsior’ – «Эксцельсиор» (одно из самых популярных стихотворений Лонгфелло) 12 Norman – Норман 13 Mr. Morse – мистер Морз 14 It was merely food. – Еда как еда. 15 were looking for trouble – нарывались на неприятности 16 none the less – тем не менее 17 By God! – Чёрт побери! 18 a car – зд. трамвай 19 Berkeley – Беркли 20 HIGGINBOTHAM’S CASH STORE – «Розничная торговля Хиггинботема за наличный расчёт» 21 Bernard Higginbotham – Бернард Хиггинботем 22 Gertrude – Гертруда 23 Don’t bang the door. – Не хлопай дверью. 24 he’s got to get out – пусть убирается отсюда 25 a wash-stand – умывальник 26 This name delighted his ear. – Это имя ласкало его слух. 27 the very thought of her – сама мысль о ней 28 looking-glass – зеркало 29 Browning – Браунинг 30 Alfred – Алфред 31 a quarter – монета в двадцать пять центов 32 Lizzie Connolly – Лиззи Конноли 33 so far behind – так далеко позади 34 Karl Marx, Ricardo, Adam Smith, and Mill – Карл Маркс, Рикардо, Адам Смит и Милль 35 call her up on the telephone – позвонить ей по телефону 36 say, for instance, Miss Lizzie Smith – скажем, например, с мисс Лиззи Смит 37 until you come to know her better – пока не познакомитесь с ней поближе 38 change in him for the better – перемена в нём к лучшему 39 why, the books come true – ну, прямо как в книжках 40 when it comes to hard work – когда дело доходит до холодной работы 41 Lotus Club – Лотос-клуб 42 what had become of him – что с ним приключилось 43 experiences of the heart – сердечные волнения 44 was to take heart of life – значило получить жизненный заряд 45 Mr. Butler – мистер Батлер 46 had been put aside – были отложены в сторону 47 he denied himself the enjoyments – он отказывал себе в удовольствиях 48 I’ll bet – бьюсь об заклад 49 his thirty thousand came along too late – слишком поздно пришли эти его тридцать тысяч 50 he did a great deal of studying and reading – он значительно продвинулся в своих занятиях 51 SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER – «Обозреватель Сан-Франциско» (название газеты) 52 seafaring – матросская служба 53 THE YOUTH’S COMPANION – «Спутник юношества» (название газеты) 54 that editors saw fit to publish – которые нравятся издателям 55 BOOK NEWS – «Книжный бюллетень» 56 Rudyard Kipling – Редьяр Киплинг 57 two months’ wages on the sea – заработок за два месяца плавания 58 at one time – сразу 59 Marion – Мэрион 60 made-to-order suit – костюм, сшитый на заказ 61 clear-headed – здравомыслящий 62 Trust that to me. – Доверься мне. 63 he had failed in everything save grammar – провалился по всем предметам, за исключением грамматики 64 Hilton – Хилтон 65 pearl-diving article – статья о ловцах жемчуга 66 turtle-catching – ловля черепах 67 he cut his sleep down – он сократил время сна 68 City Hall Park – Сити-Холл-парк 69 They lost their tempers easily. – Они легко выходили из себя. 70 Herbert Spencer – Герберт Спенсер (английский философ и социолог, идеи которого пользовались большой популярностью в конце XIX века) 71 Kant – Кант 72 the grain of sand – песчинка 73 and yet it sold – и все-таки она оплачивалась 74 amateurishness – дилетантизм 75 for your sake – ради вас 76 Sea Lyrics – «Песни моря»