Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Little Lady of the Big House by Jack London (romance book recommendations .txt) 📖
Download in Format:
- Author: Jack London
Book online «The Little Lady of the Big House by Jack London (romance book recommendations .txt) 📖». Author Jack London
lips parted in a pitiful smile.
"I... I thought at first that I was dead," she said.
But quickly another thought was in her mind, and Dick divined it in her eyes as they searched him. The question was if he knew it was no accident. He gave no sign. She had planned it so, and she must pass believing it so.
"I... was... wrong," she said. She spoke slowly, faintly, in evident pain, with a pause for strength of utterance between each word. "I was always so cocksure I'd never have an accident, and look what I've gone and done."
"It's a darn shame," Dick said, sympathetically. "What was it? A jam?"
She nodded, and again her lips parted in the pitiful brave smile as she said whimsically: "Oh, Dick, go call the neighbors in and show them what little Paula's din.
"How serious is it?" she asked. "Be honest, Red Cloud, you know
me," she added, after the briefest of pauses in which Dick had not replied.
He shook his head.
"How long?" she queried.
"Not long," came his answer. "You can ease off any time."
"You mean...?" She glanced aside curiously at the doctor and back to Dick, who nodded.
"It's only what I should have expected from you, Red Cloud," she murmured gratefully. "But is Doctor Robinson game for it?"
The doctor stepped around so that she could see him, and nodded.
"Thank you, doctor. And remember, I am to say when."
"Is there much pain?" Dick queried.
Her eyes were wide and brave and dreadful, and her lips quivered for the moment ere she replied, "Not much, but dreadful, quite dreadful. I won't care to stand it very long. I'll say when."
Once more the smile on her lips announced a whimsey.
"Life is queer, most queer, isn't it? And do you know, I want to go out with love-songs in my ears. You first, Evan, sing the 'Gypsy Trail.'--Why, I was singing it with you less than an hour ago. Think of it! Do, Evan, please."
Graham looked to Dick for permission, and Dick gave it with his eyes.
"Oh, and sing it robustly, gladly, madly, just as a womaning Gypsy man should sing it," she urged. "And stand back there, so, where I can see you."
And while Graham sang the whole song through to its:
"The heart of a man to the heart of a maid, light of my
tents be fleet,
Morning waits at the end of the world and the world is
all at our feet,"
Oh My, immobile-faced, a statue, stood in the far doorway awaiting commands. Oh Dear, grief-stricken, stood at her mistress's head, no longer wringing her hands, but holding them so tightly clasped that the finger-tips and nails showed white. To the rear, at Paula's dressing table, Doctor Robinson noiselessly dissolved in a glass the anodyne pellets and filled his hypodermic.
When Graham had finished, Paula thanked him with her eyes, closed them, and lay still for a space.
"And now, Red Cloud," she said when next she opened them, "the song of Ai-kut, and of the Dew-Woman, the Lush-Woman. Stand where Evan did, so that I can see you well."
And Dick chanted:
"I am Ai-kut, the first man of the Nishinam. Ai-kut is the short for Adam, and my father and my mother were the coyote and the moon. And this is Yo-to-to-wi, my wife. Yo-to-to-wi is the short for Eve. She is the first woman of the Nishinam.
"Me, I am Ai-kut. This is my dew of women. This is my honey-dew of women. Her father and her mother were the Sierra dawn and the summer east wind of the mountains. Together they conspired, and from the air and earth they sweated all sweetness till in a mist of their own love the leaves of the chaparral and the manzanita were dewed with the honey dew.
"Yo-to-to-wi is my honey-dew woman. Hear me! I am Ai-kut! Yo-to-to-wi is my quail-woman, my deer-woman, my lush-woman of all soft rain and fat soil. She was born of the thin starlight and the brittle dawn- light, in the morning of the world, and she is the one woman of all women to me."
Again, with closed eyes, she lay silent for a while. Once she attempted to draw a deeper breath, which caused her to cough slightly several times.
"Try not to cough," Dick said.
They could see her brows contract with the effort of will to control the irritating tickle that might precipitate a paroxysm.
"Oh Dear, come around where I can see you," she said, when she opened her eyes.
The Chinese girl obeyed, moving blindly, so that Robinson, with a hand on her arm, was compelled to guide her.
"Good-by, Oh Dear. You've been very good to me always. And sometimes, maybe, I have not been good to you. I am sorry. Remember, Mr. Forrest will always be your father and your mother.... And all my jade is yours."
She closed her eyes in token that the brief audience was over.
Again she was vexed by the tickling cough that threatened to grow more pronounced.
"I am ready, Dick," she said faintly, still with closed eyes. "I want to make my sleepy, sleepy noise. Is the doctor ready? Come closer. Hold my hand like you did before in the little death."
She turned her eyes to Graham, and Dick did not look, for he knew love was in that last look of hers, as he knew it would be when she looked into his eyes at the last.
"Once," she explained to Graham, "I had to go on the table, and I made Dick go with me into the anaesthetic chamber and hold my hand until I went under. You remember, Henley called it the drunken dark, the little death in life. It was very easy."
In the silence she continued her look, then turned her face and eyes back to Dick, who knelt close to her, holding her hand.
With a pressure of her fingers on his and a beckoning of her eyes, she drew his ear down to her lips.
"Red Cloud," she whispered, "I love you best. And I am proud I belonged to you for such a long, long time." Still closer she drew him with the pressure of her fingers. "I'm sorry there were no babies, Red Cloud."
With the relaxing of her fingers she eased him from her so that she could look from one to the other.
"Two bonnie, bonnie men. Good-by, bonnie men. Good-by, Red Cloud."
In the pause, they waited, while the doctor bared her arm for the needle.
"Sleepy, sleepy," she twittered in mimicry of drowsy birds. "I am ready, doctor. Stretch the skin tight, first. You know I don't like to be hurt.--Hold me tight, Dick."
Robinson, receiving the eye permission from Dick, easily and quickly thrust the needle through the stretched skin, with steady hand sank the piston home, and with the ball of the finger soothingly rubbed the morphine into circulation.
"Sleepy, sleepy, boo'ful sleepy," she murmured drowsily, after a time.
Semi-consciously she half-turned on her side, curved her free arm on the pillow and nestled her head on it, and drew her body up in nestling curves in the way Dick knew she loved to sleep.
After a long time, she sighed faintly, and began so easily to go that she was gone before they guessed. From without, the twittering of the canaries bathing in the fountain penetrated the silence of the room, and from afar came the trumpeting of Mountain Lad and the silver whinny of the Fotherington Princess.
THE END
Imprint
"I... I thought at first that I was dead," she said.
But quickly another thought was in her mind, and Dick divined it in her eyes as they searched him. The question was if he knew it was no accident. He gave no sign. She had planned it so, and she must pass believing it so.
"I... was... wrong," she said. She spoke slowly, faintly, in evident pain, with a pause for strength of utterance between each word. "I was always so cocksure I'd never have an accident, and look what I've gone and done."
"It's a darn shame," Dick said, sympathetically. "What was it? A jam?"
She nodded, and again her lips parted in the pitiful brave smile as she said whimsically: "Oh, Dick, go call the neighbors in and show them what little Paula's din.
"How serious is it?" she asked. "Be honest, Red Cloud, you know
me," she added, after the briefest of pauses in which Dick had not replied.
He shook his head.
"How long?" she queried.
"Not long," came his answer. "You can ease off any time."
"You mean...?" She glanced aside curiously at the doctor and back to Dick, who nodded.
"It's only what I should have expected from you, Red Cloud," she murmured gratefully. "But is Doctor Robinson game for it?"
The doctor stepped around so that she could see him, and nodded.
"Thank you, doctor. And remember, I am to say when."
"Is there much pain?" Dick queried.
Her eyes were wide and brave and dreadful, and her lips quivered for the moment ere she replied, "Not much, but dreadful, quite dreadful. I won't care to stand it very long. I'll say when."
Once more the smile on her lips announced a whimsey.
"Life is queer, most queer, isn't it? And do you know, I want to go out with love-songs in my ears. You first, Evan, sing the 'Gypsy Trail.'--Why, I was singing it with you less than an hour ago. Think of it! Do, Evan, please."
Graham looked to Dick for permission, and Dick gave it with his eyes.
"Oh, and sing it robustly, gladly, madly, just as a womaning Gypsy man should sing it," she urged. "And stand back there, so, where I can see you."
And while Graham sang the whole song through to its:
"The heart of a man to the heart of a maid, light of my
tents be fleet,
Morning waits at the end of the world and the world is
all at our feet,"
Oh My, immobile-faced, a statue, stood in the far doorway awaiting commands. Oh Dear, grief-stricken, stood at her mistress's head, no longer wringing her hands, but holding them so tightly clasped that the finger-tips and nails showed white. To the rear, at Paula's dressing table, Doctor Robinson noiselessly dissolved in a glass the anodyne pellets and filled his hypodermic.
When Graham had finished, Paula thanked him with her eyes, closed them, and lay still for a space.
"And now, Red Cloud," she said when next she opened them, "the song of Ai-kut, and of the Dew-Woman, the Lush-Woman. Stand where Evan did, so that I can see you well."
And Dick chanted:
"I am Ai-kut, the first man of the Nishinam. Ai-kut is the short for Adam, and my father and my mother were the coyote and the moon. And this is Yo-to-to-wi, my wife. Yo-to-to-wi is the short for Eve. She is the first woman of the Nishinam.
"Me, I am Ai-kut. This is my dew of women. This is my honey-dew of women. Her father and her mother were the Sierra dawn and the summer east wind of the mountains. Together they conspired, and from the air and earth they sweated all sweetness till in a mist of their own love the leaves of the chaparral and the manzanita were dewed with the honey dew.
"Yo-to-to-wi is my honey-dew woman. Hear me! I am Ai-kut! Yo-to-to-wi is my quail-woman, my deer-woman, my lush-woman of all soft rain and fat soil. She was born of the thin starlight and the brittle dawn- light, in the morning of the world, and she is the one woman of all women to me."
Again, with closed eyes, she lay silent for a while. Once she attempted to draw a deeper breath, which caused her to cough slightly several times.
"Try not to cough," Dick said.
They could see her brows contract with the effort of will to control the irritating tickle that might precipitate a paroxysm.
"Oh Dear, come around where I can see you," she said, when she opened her eyes.
The Chinese girl obeyed, moving blindly, so that Robinson, with a hand on her arm, was compelled to guide her.
"Good-by, Oh Dear. You've been very good to me always. And sometimes, maybe, I have not been good to you. I am sorry. Remember, Mr. Forrest will always be your father and your mother.... And all my jade is yours."
She closed her eyes in token that the brief audience was over.
Again she was vexed by the tickling cough that threatened to grow more pronounced.
"I am ready, Dick," she said faintly, still with closed eyes. "I want to make my sleepy, sleepy noise. Is the doctor ready? Come closer. Hold my hand like you did before in the little death."
She turned her eyes to Graham, and Dick did not look, for he knew love was in that last look of hers, as he knew it would be when she looked into his eyes at the last.
"Once," she explained to Graham, "I had to go on the table, and I made Dick go with me into the anaesthetic chamber and hold my hand until I went under. You remember, Henley called it the drunken dark, the little death in life. It was very easy."
In the silence she continued her look, then turned her face and eyes back to Dick, who knelt close to her, holding her hand.
With a pressure of her fingers on his and a beckoning of her eyes, she drew his ear down to her lips.
"Red Cloud," she whispered, "I love you best. And I am proud I belonged to you for such a long, long time." Still closer she drew him with the pressure of her fingers. "I'm sorry there were no babies, Red Cloud."
With the relaxing of her fingers she eased him from her so that she could look from one to the other.
"Two bonnie, bonnie men. Good-by, bonnie men. Good-by, Red Cloud."
In the pause, they waited, while the doctor bared her arm for the needle.
"Sleepy, sleepy," she twittered in mimicry of drowsy birds. "I am ready, doctor. Stretch the skin tight, first. You know I don't like to be hurt.--Hold me tight, Dick."
Robinson, receiving the eye permission from Dick, easily and quickly thrust the needle through the stretched skin, with steady hand sank the piston home, and with the ball of the finger soothingly rubbed the morphine into circulation.
"Sleepy, sleepy, boo'ful sleepy," she murmured drowsily, after a time.
Semi-consciously she half-turned on her side, curved her free arm on the pillow and nestled her head on it, and drew her body up in nestling curves in the way Dick knew she loved to sleep.
After a long time, she sighed faintly, and began so easily to go that she was gone before they guessed. From without, the twittering of the canaries bathing in the fountain penetrated the silence of the room, and from afar came the trumpeting of Mountain Lad and the silver whinny of the Fotherington Princess.
THE END
Imprint
Publication Date: 05-23-2008
All Rights Reserved
Free ebook «The Little Lady of the Big House by Jack London (romance book recommendations .txt) 📖» - read online now
Add a comment
Comments (0)