Голод
Part I
AsIarrivedatthefootofthehillIovertooktwoladies,whomIpassed.AsIdidso,Ibrushedoneofthemaccidentallyonthearm.Ilookedup;shehadafull,ratherpale,face.Butsheblushes,and,becomessuddenlysurprisinglylovely.Iknownotwhysheblushes;maybeatsomewordshehearsfromapasser-by,maybeonlyatsomelurkingthoughtofherown.OrcanitbebecauseItouchedherarm?Herhigh,fullbosomheavesviolentlyseveraltimes,andsheclosesherhandtightlyabovethehandleofherparasol.Whathascometoher?
Istopped,andletherpassaheadagain.Icould,forthemoment,gonofurther;thewholethingstruckmeasbeingsosingular.Iwasinatantalizingmood,annoyedwithmyselfonaccountofthepencilincident,andinahighdegreedisturbedbyallthefoodIhadtakenonatotallyemptystomach.Suddenlymythoughts,asifwhimsicallyinspired,takeasingulardirection.Ifeelmyselfseizedwithanodddesiretomakethisladyafraid;tofollowher,andannoyherinsomeway.Iovertakeheragain,passherby,turnquicklyround,andmeetherface-to-faceinordertoobserveherwell.Istandandgazeintohereyes,andhit,onthespurofthemoment,onanamewhichIhaveneverheardbefore—anamewithagliding,nervoussound—Ylajali!WhensheisquiteclosetomeIdrawmyselfupandsayimpressively:
"Youarelosingyourbook,madam!"IcouldhearmyheartbeataudiblyasIsaidit.
"Mybook?"sheaskshercompanion,andshewalkson.
