Мартин Иден

Chapter 29

           "But,Marian,whyshouldyourHermannbejealousofmywritingpoetryaboutmyownsister?" 

           "Heain’tjealous,"shesobbed. "Hesaysitwasindecent,obobscene." 

           Martinemittedalong,lowwhistleofincredulity,thenproceededtoresurrectandreadacarboncopyof"ThePalmist." 

           "Ican’tseeit,"hesaidfinally,profferingthemanuscripttoher. "Readityourselfandshowmewhateverstrikesyouasobscenethatwastheword,wasn’tit?" 

           "Hesaysso,andheoughttoknow,"wastheanswer,withawaveasideofthemanuscript,accompaniedbyalookofloathing. "Andhesaysyou’vegottotearitup. Hesayshewon’thavenowifeofhiswithsuchthingswrittenaboutherwhichanybodycanread. Hesaysit’sadisgrace,an’hewon’tstandforit." 

           "Now,lookhere,Marian,thisisnothingbutnonsense,"Martinbegan; thenabruptlychangedhismind. 

           Hesawbeforehimanunhappygirl,knewthefutilityofattemptingtoconvinceherhusbandorher,and,thoughthewholesituationwasabsurdandpreposterous,heresolvedtosurrender. 

           "Allright,"heannounced,tearingthemanuscriptintohalfadozenpiecesandthrowingitintothewaste-basket. 

           Hecontentedhimselfwiththeknowledgethateventhentheoriginaltype-writtenmanuscriptwasreposingintheofficeofaNewYorkmagazine. Marianandherhusbandwouldneverknow,andneitherhimselfnortheynortheworldwouldloseifthepretty,harmlesspoemeverwerepublished. 

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