Мартин Иден

Chapter 11

           Thenhetried,asanexperiment,ashortstory,andbeforehebrokehisstridehehadfinishedsixshortstoriesanddespatchedthemtovariousmagazines. Hewroteprolifically,intensely,frommorningtillnight,andlateatnight,exceptwhenhebrokeofftogotothereading-room,drawbooksfromthelibrary,ortocallonRuth. Hewasprofoundlyhappy. Lifewaspitchedhigh. Hewasinafeverthatneverbroke. Thejoyofcreationthatissupposedtobelongtothegodswashis. Allthelifeabouthimtheodorsofstalevegetablesandsoapsuds,theslatternlyformofhissister,andthejeeringfaceofMr.Higginbothamwasadream. Therealworldwasinhismind,andthestorieshewroteweresomanypiecesofrealityoutofhismind. 

           Thedaysweretooshort. Therewassomuchhewantedtostudy. Hecuthissleepdowntofivehoursandfoundthathecouldgetalonguponit. Hetriedfourhoursandahalf,andregretfullycamebacktofive. Hecouldjoyfullyhavespentallhiswakinghoursuponanyoneofhispursuits. Itwaswithregretthatheceasedfromwritingtostudy,thatheceasedfromstudytogotothelibrary,thathetorehimselfawayfromthatchart-roomofknowledgeorfromthemagazinesinthereading-roomthatwerefilledwiththesecretsofwriterswhosucceededinsellingtheirwares. Itwaslikeseveringheartstrings,whenhewaswithRuth,tostandupandgo; andhescorchedthroughthedarkstreetssoastogethometohisbooksattheleastpossibleexpenseoftime. 

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