Мартин Иден / Martin Eden

Chapter 3

Martin Eden took out a brown rice paper and a pinch of Mexican tobacco. “By God![17]“ 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] that was going to Berkeley.[19] 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] Bernard Higginbotham[21] 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]”

“Don’t bang the door,[23]” 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]”

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.