Мартин Иден

Chapter 20

           Oncehedared,oneafternoon,whenhefoundherinthedarkenedlivingroomwithablindingheadache. 

           "Nothingcandoitanygood,"shehadansweredhisinquiries. "Andbesides,Idon’ttakeheadachepowders. DoctorHallwon’tpermitme." 

           "Icancureit,Ithink,andwithoutdrugs,"wasMartin’sanswer. "Iamnotsure,ofcourse,butI’dliketotry. It’ssimplymassage. IlearnedthetrickfirstfromtheJapanese. Theyarearaceofmasseurs,youknow. ThenIlearneditalloveragainwithvariationsfromtheHawaiians. Theycallitlomi-lomi. Itcanaccomplishmostofthethingsdrugsaccomplishandafewthingsthatdrugscan’t." 

           Scarcelyhadhishandstouchedherheadwhenshesigheddeeply. 

           "Thatissogood,"shesaid. 

           Shespokeonceagain,halfanhourlater,whensheasked,"Aren’tyoutired?" 

           Thequestionwasperfunctory,andsheknewwhattheanswerwouldbe. Thenshelostherselfindrowsycontemplationofthesoothingbalmofhisstrength: Lifepouredfromtheendsofhisfingers,drivingthepainbeforeit,orsoitseemedtoher,untilwiththeeasementofpain,shefellasleepandhestoleaway. 

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