Голод
Part I
Iopenedtheparcelandtookouttheblanket;Iwastiredandexhaustedwiththelongwalk,andlaydownatonce.IturnedandtwistedmanytimesbeforeIcouldgetsettled.Myearpainedmealittle—itwasslightlyswollenfromthewhip-lash—andIcouldnotlieonit.Ipulledoffmyshoesandputthemundermyhead,withthepaperfromSembontop.
Andthegreatspiritofdarknessspreadashroudoverme...everythingwassilent—everything.Butupintheheightssoughedtheeverlastingsong,thevoiceoftheair,thedistant,tonelesshummingwhichisneversilent.Ilistenedsolongtothisceaselessfaintmurmurthatitbegantobewilderme;itwassurelyasymphonyfromtherollingspheresabove.Starsthatintoneasong....
"Iamdamnedifitis,though,"Iexclaimed;andIlaughedaloudtocollectmywits."They’renight-owlshootinginCanaan!"
Iroseagain,pulledonmyshoes,andwanderedaboutinthegloom,onlytolaydownoncemore.Ifoughtandwrestledwithangerandfearuntilnearlydawn,thenfellasleepatlast.
ItwasbroaddaylightwhenIopenedmyeyes,andIhadafeelingthatitwasgoingontowardsnoon.
Ipulledonmyshoes,packeduptheblanketagain,andsetoutfortown.Therewasnosuntobeseentodayeither;Ishiveredlikeadog,myfeetwerebenumbed,andwatercommencedtorunfrommyeyes,asiftheycouldnotbearthedaylight.
Itwasthreeo’clock.Hungerbegantoassailmedownrightinearnest.
