Голод
Part III
Therewasbutlittlechivalryinfate,reallylittleenoughchivalry;onewasforcedtoadmitthat.
Iwentovertoamanstaringintoashop-window,andaskedhimingreathastewhat,accordingtohisopinion,shouldonegiveamanwhohadbeenstarvingforalongtime.Itwasamatteroflifeanddeath,Isaid;hecouldn’tevenkeepbeefdown.
"Ihaveheardsaythatmilkisagoodthing—hotmilk,"answeredtheman,astonished."Whoisit,bytheway,youareaskingfor?"
"Thanks,thanks,"Isay;"thatideaofhotmilkmightnotbehalfabadnotion;"andIgo.
IenteredthefirstcaféIcametogoingalong,andaskedforsomeboiledmilk.Igotthemilk,drankitdown,hotasitwas,swalloweditgreedily,everydrop,paidforit,andwentoutagain.Itooktheroadhome.
Nowsomethingsingularhappened.Outsidemydoor,leaningagainstthelamp-post,andrightundertheglareofit,standsapersonofwhomIgetaglimpsefromalongdistance—itistheladydressedinblackagain.Thesameblack-cladladyoftheotherevenings.Therecouldbenomistakeaboutit;shehadturnedupatthesamespotforthefourthtime.Sheisstandingperfectlymotionless.IfindthissopeculiarthatIinvoluntarilyslackenmypace.Atthismomentmythoughtsareingoodworkingorder,butIammuchexcited;mynervesareirritatedbymylastmeal.Ipassherbyasusual;amalmostatthedoorandonthepointofentering.ThereIstop.Allofasuddenaninspirationseizesme.
