Голод

           Ithelpedmeincertainsituationsinlife.Thepoorintelligentmanisafarnicerobserverthantherichintelligentman.Thepoormanlooksabouthimateverystephetakes,listenssuspiciouslytoeverywordhehearsfromthepeoplehemeets,everystephetakesaffordsinthiswayataskforhisthoughtsandfeelings—anoccupation.Heisquickofhearing,andsensitive;heisanexperiencedman,hissoulbearsthesearsofthefire....

           AndItalkedalongtimeoverthesesearsmysoulhad.ButthelongerItalked,themoretroubledshegrew.Atlastshemuttered,"MyGod!"acoupleoftimesindespair,andwrungherhands.IcouldseewellthatItormentedher,andIhadnowishtotormenther—butdidit,allthesame.Atlast,beingoftheopinionthatIhadsucceededintellingherinrudeenoughtermstheessentialsofwhatIhadtosay,Iwastouchedbyherheart-strickenexpression.Icried:

           "NowIamgoing,nowIamgoing.Can’tyouseethatIalreadyhavemyhandonthehandleofthedoor?Good-bye,good-bye,"Isay."YoumightanswermewhenIsaygood-byetwice,andstandonthepointofgoing.Idon’tevenasktomeetyouagain,foritwouldtormentyou.Buttellme,whydidn’tyouleavemeinpeace?WhathadIdonetoyou?Ididn’tgetinyourway,now,didI?Whydidyouturnawayfrommeallatonce,asifyoudidn’tknowmeanylonger?Youhavepluckedmenowsothoroughlybare,mademeevenmorewretchedthanIeverwasatanytimebefore;but,indeed,Iamnotinsane.