Голод
Part IV
ThatwasreallymostsingulargreenhaironthatChristintheoleograph.Itwasnottoounlikegreengrass,orexpressedwithexquisiteexactitudethickmeadowgrass.Ha!aperfectlycorrectremark—unusuallythickmeadowgrass....Atrainoffleetingideasdartsatthismomentthroughmyhead.Fromgreengrasstothetext,Eachlifeislikeuntograssthatiskindled;fromthattotheDayofJudgment,whenallwillbeconsumed;thenalittledetourdowntotheearthquakeinLisbon,aboutwhichsomethingfloatedbeforemeinreferencetoabrassSpanishspittoonandanebonypenhandlethatIhadseendownatYlajali’s.Ah,yes,allwastransitory,justlikegrassthatwaskindled.Itallendedinfourplanksandawinding-sheet."Winding-sheetstobehadfromMissAndersen’s,ontherightofthedoor...."Andallthiswastossedaboutinmyheadduringthedespairingmomentwhenmylandladywasabouttothrustmefromherdoor.
"Hedoesn’thear,"sheyelled."Itellyou,you’llquitthishouse.Nowyouknowit.IbelieveGodblastme,thatthemanismad,Ido!Now,outyougo,ontheblessedspot,andsonomorechataboutit."
Ilookedtowardsthedoor,notinordertoleave—no,certainlynotinordertoleave.Anaudaciousnotionseizedme—iftherehadbeenakeyinthedoor,Iwouldhaveturneditandlockedmyselfinalongwiththeresttoescapegoing.Ihadaperfectlyhystericaldreadofgoingoutintothestreetsagain.
Buttherewasnokeyinthedoor.
