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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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- Стр. 119/241
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And
from
such
largess
,
dispensed
from
his
future
,
Martin
turned
and
took
his
one
good
suit
of
clothes
to
the
pawnshop
.
His
plight
was
desperate
for
him
to
do
this
,
for
it
cut
him
off
from
Ruth
.
He
had
no
second
-
best
suit
that
was
presentable
,
and
though
he
could
go
to
the
butcher
and
the
baker
,
and
even
on
occasion
to
his
sister
’
s
,
it
was
beyond
all
daring
to
dream
of
entering
the
Morse
home
so
disreputably
apparelled
.
He
toiled
on
,
miserable
and
well
-
nigh
hopeless
.
It
began
to
appear
to
him
that
the
second
battle
was
lost
and
that
he
would
have
to
go
to
work
.
In
doing
this
he
would
satisfy
everybody
—
the
grocer
,
his
sister
,
Ruth
,
and
even
Maria
,
to
whom
he
owed
a
month
’
s
room
rent
.
He
was
two
months
behind
with
his
type
-
writer
,
and
the
agency
was
clamoring
for
payment
or
for
the
return
of
the
machine
.
In
desperation
,
all
but
ready
to
surrender
,
to
make
a
truce
with
fate
until
he
could
get
a
fresh
start
,
he
took
the
civil
service
examinations
for
the
Railway
Mail
.
To
his
surprise
,
he
passed
first
.
The
job
was
assured
,
though
when
the
call
would
come
to
enter
upon
his
duties
nobody
knew
.
It
was
at
this
time
,
at
the
lowest
ebb
,
that
the
smooth
-
running
editorial
machine
broke
down
.
A
cog
must
have
slipped
or
an
oil
-
cup
run
dry
,
for
the
postman
brought
him
one
morning
a
short
,
thin
envelope
.
Martin
glanced
at
the
upper
left
-
hand
corner
and
read
the
name
and
address
of
the
Transcontinental
Monthly
.
His
heart
gave
a
great
leap
,
and
he
suddenly
felt
faint
,
the
sinking
feeling
accompanied
by
a
strange
trembling
of
the
knees
.
He
staggered
into
his
room
and
sat
down
on
the
bed
,
the
envelope
still
unopened
,
and
in
that
moment
came
understanding
to
him
how
people
suddenly
fall
dead
upon
receipt
of
extraordinarily
good
news
.
Of
course
this
was
good
news
.
There
was
no
manuscript
in
that
thin
envelope
,
therefore
it
was
an
acceptance
.
He
knew
the
story
in
the
hands
of
the
Transcontinental
.
It
was
"
The
Ring
of
Bells
,
"
one
of
his
horror
stories
,
and
it
was
an
even
five
thousand
words
.
And
,
since
first
-
class
magazines
always
paid
on
acceptance
,
there
was
a
check
inside
.
Two
cents
a
word
—
twenty
dollars
a
thousand
;
the
check
must
be
a
hundred
dollars
.
One
hundred
dollars
!
As
he
tore
the
envelope
open
,
every
item
of
all
his
debts
surged
in
his
brain
—
$
3
.
85
to
the
grocer
;
butcher
$
4
.
00
flat
;
baker
,
$
2
.
00
;
fruit
store
,
$
5
.
00
;
total
,
$
14
.
85
.
Then
there
was
room
rent
,
$
2
.
50
;
another
month
in
advance
,
$
2
.
50
;
two
months
’
type
-
writer
,
$
8
.
00
;
a
month
in
advance
,
$
4
.
00
;
total
,
$
31
.
85
.
And
finally
to
be
added
,
his
pledges
,
plus
interest
,
with
the
pawnbroker
—
watch
,
$
5
.
50
;
overcoat
,
$
5
.
50
;
wheel
,
$
7
.
75
;
suit
of
clothes
,
$
5
.
50
(
60
%
interest
,
but
what
did
it
matter
?
)
—
grand
total
,
$
56
.
10
.
He
saw
,
as
if
visible
in
the
air
before
him
,
in
illuminated
figures
,
the
whole
sum
,
and
the
subtraction
that
followed
and
that
gave
a
remainder
of
$
43
.
90
.
When
he
had
squared
every
debt
,
redeemed
every
pledge
,
he
would
still
have
jingling
in
his
pockets
a
princely
$
43
.
90
.
And
on
top
of
that
he
would
have
a
month
’
s
rent
paid
in
advance
on
the
type
-
writer
and
on
the
room
.
By
this
time
he
had
drawn
the
single
sheet
of
type
-
written
letter
out
and
spread
it
open
.
There
was
no
check
.
He
peered
into
the
envelope
,
held
it
to
the
light
,
but
could
not
trust
his
eyes
,
and
in
trembling
haste
tore
the
envelope
apart
.
There
was
no
check
.
He
read
the
letter
,
skimming
it
line
by
line
,
dashing
through
the
editor
’
s
praise
of
his
story
to
the
meat
of
the
letter
,
the
statement
why
the
check
had
not
been
sent
.
He
found
no
such
statement
,
but
he
did
find
that
which
made
him
suddenly
wilt
.
The
letter
slid
from
his
hand
.
His
eyes
went
lack
-
lustre
,
and
he
lay
back
on
the
pillow
,
pulling
the
blanket
about
him
and
up
to
his
chin
.
Five
dollars
for
"
The
Ring
of
Bells
"
—
five
dollars
for
five
thousand
words
!
Instead
of
two
cents
a
word
,
ten
words
for
a
cent
!
And
the
editor
had
praised
it
,
too
.
And
he
would
receive
the
check
when
the
story
was
published
.
Then
it
was
all
poppycock
,
two
cents
a
word
for
minimum
rate
and
payment
upon
acceptance
.
It
was
a
lie
,
and
it
had
led
him
astray
.
He
would
never
have
attempted
to
write
had
he
known
that
.
He
would
have
gone
to
work
—
to
work
for
Ruth
.
He
went
back
to
the
day
he
first
attempted
to
write
,
and
was
appalled
at
the
enormous
waste
of
time
—
and
all
for
ten
words
for
a
cent
.
And
the
other
high
rewards
of
writers
,
that
he
had
read
about
,
must
be
lies
,
too
.
His
second
-
hand
ideas
of
authorship
were
wrong
,
for
here
was
the
proof
of
it
.
The
Transcontinental
sold
for
twenty
-
five
cents
,
and
its
dignified
and
artistic
cover
proclaimed
it
as
among
the
first
-
class
magazines
.
It
was
a
staid
,
respectable
magazine
,
and
it
had
been
published
continuously
since
long
before
he
was
born
.
Why
,
on
the
outside
cover
were
printed
every
month
the
words
of
one
of
the
world
’
s
great
writers
,
words
proclaiming
the
inspired
mission
of
the
Transcontinental
by
a
star
of
literature
whose
first
coruscations
had
appeared
inside
those
self
-
same
covers
.
And
the
high
and
lofty
,
heaven
-
inspired
Transcontinental
paid
five
dollars
for
five
thousand
words
!
The
great
writer
had
recently
died
in
a
foreign
land
—
in
dire
poverty
,
Martin
remembered
,
which
was
not
to
be
wondered
at
,
considering
the
magnificent
pay
authors
receive
.
Well
,
he
had
taken
the
bait
,
the
newspaper
lies
about
writers
and
their
pay
,
and
he
had
wasted
two
years
over
it
.
But
he
would
disgorge
the
bait
now
.
Not
another
line
would
he
ever
write
.
He
would
do
what
Ruth
wanted
him
to
do
,
what
everybody
wanted
him
to
do
—
get
a
job
.
The
thought
of
going
to
work
reminded
him
of
Joe
—
Joe
,
tramping
through
the
land
of
nothing
-
to
-
do
.
Martin
heaved
a
great
sigh
of
envy
.
The
reaction
of
nineteen
hours
a
day
for
many
days
was
strong
upon
him
.
But
then
,
Joe
was
not
in
love
,
had
none
of
the
responsibilities
of
love
,
and
he
could
afford
to
loaf
through
the
land
of
nothing
-
to
-
do
.
He
,
Martin
,
had
something
to
work
for
,
and
go
to
work
he
would
.
He
would
start
out
early
next
morning
to
hunt
a
job
.
And
he
would
let
Ruth
know
,
too
,
that
he
had
mended
his
ways
and
was
willing
to
go
into
her
father
’
s
office
.
