Голод
Part IV
ButIbethoughtmyselfintime,andheldmypeace,ifonlyoutofgratitudetothestrangermanwhofollowedher,andwouldhavetohearthem.Shetrodcloseonmyheels,railingincessantly,andmyangerincreasedwitheverystepItook.
Wereachedtheyardbelow.Iwalkedveryslowly,stilldebatingwhetherIwouldnothaveitoutwithher.Iwasatthismomentcompletelyblindedwithrage,andIsearchedfortheworstword—anexpressionthatwouldstrikeherdeadonthespot,likeakickinherstomach.Acommissionairepassesmeattheentrance.Hetoucheshishat;Itakenonotice;heappliestoher;andIhearthatheinquiresforme,butIdonotturnround.Acoupleofstepsoutsidethedoorheovertakesandstopsme.Hehandsmeanenvelope.Itearitopen,roughlyandunwillingly.Itcontainshalf-a-sovereign—nonote,notaword.Ilookattheman,andask:
"Whattomfooleryisthis?Whoistheletterfrom?"
"Oh,thatIcan’tsay!"hereplies;"butitwasaladywhogaveittome."
Istoodstill.Thecommissionaireleft.
Iputthecoinintotheenvelopeagain,crumpleitup,coinandenvelope,wheelroundandgostraighttowardsthelandlady,whoisstillkeepinganeyeonmefromthedoorway,andthrowitinherface.Isaidnothing;Iutterednosyllable—onlynoticedthatshewasexaminingthecrumpledpaperasIlefther....Ha!thatiswhatonemightcallcomportingoneselfwithdignity.
