"Шервуд Андерсен. Белый бедняк (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

that he looked upon his tendency to sleep and to dream as an enemy to his
development; and a peculiarly persistent determination to make something
alive and worth while out of himself--the result of the five years of
constant talking on the subject by the New England woman--had taken
possession of him. "I'll find the right place and the right people and then
I'll begin," he continually said to himself.

And then, worn out with weariness and loneliness, he went to bed in one of
the little hotels or boarding houses where he lived during those years,
and his dreams returned. The dream that had come that night as he lay on
the cliff above the Mississippi River near the town of Burlington, came
back time after time. He sat upright in bed in the darkness of his room
and after he had driven the cloudy, vague sensation out of his brain, was
afraid to go to sleep again. He did not want to disturb the people of the
house and so got up and dressed and without putting on his shoes walked up
and down in the room. Sometimes the room he occupied had a low ceiling and
he was compelled to stoop. He crept out of the house carrying his shoes in
his hand and sat down on the sidewalk to put them on. In all the towns he
visited, people saw him walking alone through the streets late at night
or in the early hours of the morning. Whispers concerning the matter ran
about. The story of what was spoken of as his queerness came to the men
with whom he worked, and they found themselves unable to talk freely and
naturally in his presence. At the noon hour when the men ate the lunch they
had carried to work, when the boss was gone and it was customary among the
workers to talk of their own affairs, they went off by themselves. Hugh
followed them about. They went to sit under a tree, and when Hugh came to
stand nearby, they became silent or the more vulgar and shallow among them
began to show off. While he worked with a half dozen other men as a section
hand on the railroad, two men did all the talking. Whenever the boss went
away an old man who had a reputation as a wit told stories concerning his
relations with women. A young man with red hair took the cue from him. The
two men talked loudly and kept looking at Hugh. The younger of the two
wits turned to another workman who had a weak, timid face. "Well, you," he
cried, "what about your old woman? What about her? Who is the father of
your son? Do you dare tell?"

In the towns Hugh walked about in the evening and tried always to keep his
mind fixed on definite things. He felt that humanity was for some unknown
reason drawing itself away from him, and his mind turned back to the figure
of Sarah Shepard. He remembered that she had never been without things
to do. She scrubbed her kitchen floor and prepared food for cooking;
she washed, ironed, kneaded dough for bread, and mended clothes. In the
evening, when she made the boy read to her out of one of the school books
or do sums on a slate, she kept her hands busy knitting socks for him or
for her husband. Except when something had crossed her so that she scolded
and her face grew red, she was always cheerful. When the boy had nothing to
do at the station and had been sent by the station master to work about the
house, to draw water from the cistern for a family washing, or pull weeds
in the garden, he heard the woman singing as she went about the doing of
her innumerable petty tasks. Hugh decided that he also must do small tasks,