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

He saw the girl leave her chair and trip swiftly across the floor to the new-comer. That must be her mother, he thought. She was a tall, blonde woman, slender, and stately, and beautiful. He knew that he must stand up to be introduced, and he struggled painfully to his feet, his face set hard for the impending ordeal.

_______

In the dining-room he was seated alongside of Her.

He glanced around the table. Opposite him was Arthur, and Arthur’s brother, Norman. They were her brothers, he reminded himself and his heart warmed toward them.

How they loved each other, the members of this family! He had starved for love all his life. His nature craved love. It was an organic demand of his being.

He was glad that Mr. Morse was not there. It was difficult enough getting acquainted with her and her mother, and her brother Norman. Arthur he already knew somewhat. The father would have been too much for him, he felt sure. It seemed to him that he had never worked so hard in his life. He had to eat as he had never eaten before, to glance about and learn just what knife or fork was to be used in any particular occasion.

Then he had to talk, to hear what was said to him, to answer, when it was necessary.

During the first part of the dinner he was very quiet. He kept himself in the background, listening, observing, replying in reticent monosyllables, saying, “Yes, miss,” and “No, miss,” to her; and “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, ma’am,” to her mother. He curbed the impulse to say, “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir,” to her brother.

He felt that it would be a confession of inferiority on his part.

“By God!” he cried to himself once, “I’m just as good as they are, and if they do know many things that I don’t, I could teach them a few myself, all the same!” And the next moment, when she or her mother addressed him as “Mr. Eden,” his aggressive pride was forgotten. He was a civilized man, shoulder to shoulder, at dinner, with people he had read about in books.

“It was brave of you to help Arthur the way you did – and you a stranger,” Ruth said tactfully, aware of his discomfiture.

“It wasn’t nothin’ at all,” he said. “Any guy ’ud do it for another.” He paused, and Arthur took up the tale,for the twentieth time, of his adventure with the drunken hoodlums on the ferry-boat, and of how Martin Eden had rushed in and rescued him.

Later, at the piano, Ruth played for him.