Мартин Иден / Martin Eden (+ аудиоприложение LECTA)

He got up abruptly and tried to see himself in the dirty looking-glass 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 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,” he called to the crying child.

He put a quarter 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.