Голод
Part I
Heheldthedooropenforme,andbowedtwiceasIleft.
Ibegantowanderaboutamongstthepeopleinthemarketplace,keptfromchoicenearthewomanwhohadpottedplantsforsale.Theheavycrimsonroses—theleavesofwhichglowedblood-likeandmoistinthedampmorning—mademeenvious,andtemptedmesinfullytosnatchone,andIinquiredthepriceofthemmerelyasanexcusetoapproachasneartothemaspossible.
IfIhadanymoneyoverIwouldbuyone,nomatterhowthingswent;indeed,Imightwellsavealittlenowandthenoutofmywayoflivingtobalancethingsagain.
Itwasteno’clock,andIwentuptothenewspaperoffice."Scissors"isrunningthroughalotofoldpapers.Theeditorhasnotcomeyet.Onbeingaskedmybusiness,Ideliveredmyweightymanuscript,leadhimtosupposethatitissomethingofmorethanuncommonimportance,andimpressuponhismemorygravelythatheistogiveitintoweeditor’sownhandsassoonashearrives.
Iwouldmyselfcalllateroninthedayforananswer.
"Allright,"replied"Scissors,"andbusiedhimselfagainwithhispapers.
Itseemedtomethathetreatedthemattersomewhattoocoolly;butIsaidnothing,onlynoddedrathercarelesslytohim,andleft.
Ihadnowtimeonhand!Ifitwouldonlyclearup!Itwasperfectlywretchedweather,withouteitherwindorfreshness.
