The Jungle Upton Sinclair (bookreader .txt) 📖

face upon the floor lay writhing. It made a choking in Jurgis’s throat to hear her, and he cried again, more savagely than before: “Stop it, I say!”

This time she heeded him, and caught her breath and lay silent, save for the gasping sobs that wrenched all her frame. For a long minute she lay there, perfectly motionless, until a cold fear seized her husband, thinking that she was dying. Suddenly, however, he heard her voice, faintly: “Jurgis! Jurgis!”

“What is it?” he said.

He had to bend down to her, she was so weak. She was pleading with him, in broken phrases, painfully uttered: “Have faith in me! Believe me!”

“Believe what?” he cried.

“Believe that I⁠—that I know best⁠—that I love you! And do not ask me⁠—what you did. Oh, Jurgis, please, please! It is for the best⁠—it is⁠—”

He started to speak again, but she rushed on frantically, heading him off. “If you will only do it! If you will only⁠—only believe me! It wasn’t my fault⁠—I couldn’t help it⁠—it will be all right⁠—it is nothing⁠—it is no harm. Oh, Jurgis⁠—please, please!”

She had hold of him, and was trying to raise herself to look at him; he could feel the palsied shaking of her hands and the heaving of the bosom she pressed against him. She managed to catch one of his hands and gripped it convulsively, drawing it to her face, and bathing it in her tears. “Oh, believe me, believe me!” she wailed again; and he shouted in fury, “I will not!”

But still she clung to him, wailing aloud in her despair: “Oh, Jurgis, think what you are doing! It will ruin us⁠—it will ruin us! Oh, no, you must not do it! No, don’t, don’t do it. You must not do it! It will drive me mad⁠—it will kill me⁠—no, no, Jurgis, I am crazy⁠—it is nothing. You do not really need to know. We can be happy⁠—we can love each other just the same. Oh, please, please, believe me!”

Her words fairly drove him wild. He tore his hands loose, and flung her off. “Answer me,” he cried. “God damn it, I say⁠—answer me!”

She sank down upon the floor, beginning to cry again. It was like listening to the moan of a damned soul, and Jurgis could not stand it. He smote his fist upon the table by his side, and shouted again at her, “Answer me!”

She began to scream aloud, her voice like the voice of some wild beast: “Ah! Ah! I can’t! I can’t do it!”

“Why can’t you do it?” he shouted.

“I don’t know how!”

He sprang and caught her by the arm, lifting her up, and glaring into her face. “Tell me where you were last night!” he panted. “Quick, out with it!”

Then she began to whisper, one word at a time: “I⁠—was in⁠—a house⁠—downtown⁠—”

“What house? What do you mean?”

She tried to hide her eyes away, but he held her. “Miss Henderson’s house,” she gasped.

He did not understand at first. “Miss Henderson’s house,” he echoed. And then suddenly, as in an explosion, the horrible truth burst over him, and he reeled and staggered back with a scream. He caught himself against the wall, and put his hand to his forehead, staring about him, and whispering, “Jesus! Jesus!”

An instant later he leaped at her, as she lay grovelling at his feet. He seized her by the throat. “Tell me!” he gasped, hoarsely. “Quick! Who took you to that place?”

She tried to get away, making him furious; he thought it was fear, or the pain of his clutch⁠—he did not understand that it was the agony of her shame. Still she answered him, “Connor.”

“Connor,” he gasped. “Who is Connor?”

“The boss,” she answered. “The man⁠—”

He tightened his grip, in his frenzy, and only when he saw her eyes closing did he realize that he was choking her. Then he relaxed his fingers, and crouched, waiting, until she opened her lids again. His breath beat hot into her face.

“Tell me,” he whispered, at last, “tell me about it.”

She lay perfectly motionless, and he had to hold his breath to catch her words. “I did not want⁠—to do it,” she said; “I tried⁠—I tried not to do it. I only did it⁠—to save us. It was our only chance.”

Again, for a space, there was no sound but his panting. Ona’s eyes closed and when she spoke again she did not open them. “He told me⁠—he would have me turned off. He told me he would⁠—we would all of us lose our places. We could never get anything to do⁠—here⁠—again. He⁠—he meant it⁠—he would have ruined us.”

Jurgis’s arms were shaking so that he could scarcely hold himself up, and lurched forward now and then as he listened. “When⁠—when did this begin?” he gasped.

“At the very first,” she said. She spoke as if in a trance. “It was all⁠—it was their plot⁠—Miss Henderson’s plot. She hated me. And he⁠—he wanted me. He used to speak to me⁠—out on the platform. Then he began to⁠—to make love to me. He offered me money. He begged me⁠—he said he loved me. Then he threatened me. He knew all about us, he knew we would starve. He knew your boss⁠—he knew Marija’s. He would hound us to death, he said⁠—then he said if I would⁠—if I⁠—we would all of us be sure of work⁠—always. Then one day he caught hold of me⁠—he would not let go⁠—he⁠—he⁠—”

“Where was this?”

“In the hallway⁠—at night⁠—after everyone had gone. I could not help it. I thought of you⁠—of the baby⁠—of mother and the children. I was afraid of him⁠—afraid to cry out.”

A moment ago her face had been ashen gray, now it was scarlet. She was beginning to breathe hard again. Jurgis made not a sound.

“That was two months ago. Then he wanted me to come⁠—to that house. He wanted me to stay there. He said all of us⁠—that we would not have to work. He made me come there⁠—in the evenings. I told you⁠—you thought I was at the factory. Then⁠—one