Martin Eden / Мартин Иден (в сокращении). Книга для чтения на английском языке

He took up a volume of poetry and began reading steadily, forgetful of where he was, his face glowing. He did not notice that a young woman had entered the room. The first he knew was when he heard Arthur’s voice saying:

“Ruth, this is Mr. Eden.”

The book was closed on his forefinger, and before he turned he was thrilling to the new impression, which was not of the girl, but of her brother’s words. “Mister Eden” was what he had thrilled to – he who had been called “Eden,” or “Martin Eden,” or just “Martin,” all his life.

And then he turned and saw the girl. She was a pale, ethereal creature, with wide, spiritual blue eyes, and golden hair. He did not know how she was dressed, except that the dress was as wonderful as she. He compared her to a pale gold flower upon a slender stem. No, she was a spirit, a divinity, a goddess; such beauty was not of the earth. Or perhaps the books were right, and there were many such as she in the upper walks of life.

“Won’t you sit down, Mr. Eden?” the girl said. “I have been looking forward to meeting you ever since Arthur told us. It was brave of you —”

He muttered that it was nothing at all what he had done, and that any fellow would have done it. She noticed that his hands were covered with fresh abrasions in the process of healing. Also, with quick, critical eyes, she noticed a scar on his cheek and another on his neck. Likewise her feminine eye took in the cheap clothes he wore.

He sat down gingerly on the edge of the chair, greatly worried by his hands. They were in the way wherever he put them. Arthur was leaving the room, and Martin Eden felt lost, alone there in the room with that pale girl.

“You have such a scar on your neck, Mr. Eden,” the girl was saying. “How did it happen? I am sure it must have been some adventure.”

“A Mexican with a knife, miss,” he answered, moistening his parched lips and clearing his throat.

“It was just a fight. After I got the knife away, he tried to bite off my nose.”

“Oh!” the girl said in a faint far voice, and he noticed the shock in her sensitive face.

He felt a shock himself, and a blush of embarrassment shone faintly on his sunburned cheeks. People in the books, in her walks of life, did not talk about such things – perhaps they did not know about them either.