the game-第1章

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The　Game



by　Jack　London










CHAPTER　I







Many　patterns　of　carpet　lay　rolled　out　before　them　on　the　floortwo

of　Brussels　showed　the　beginning　of　their　quest；　and　its　ending　in

that　direction；　while　a　score　of　ingrains　lured　their　eyes　and

prolonged　the　debate　between　desire　pocket…book。　　The　head　of　the

department　did　them　the　honor　of　waiting　upon　them　himselfor　did

Joe　the　honor；　as　she　well　knew；　for　she　had　noted　the　open…mouthed

awe　of　the　elevator　boy　who　brought　them　up。　　Nor　had　she　been　blind

to　the　marked　respect　shown　Joe　by　the　urchins　and　groups　of　young

fellows　on　corners；　when　she　walked　with　him　in　their　own

neighborhood　down　at　the　west　end　of　the　town。



But　the　head　of　the　department　was　called　away　to　the　telephone；　and

in　her　mind　the　splendid　promise　of　the　carpets　and　the　irk　of　the

pocket…book　were　thrust　aside　by　a　greater　doubt　and　anxiety。



〃But　I　don't　see　what　you　find　to　like　in　it；　Joe；〃　she　said　softly；

the　note　of　insistence　in　her　words　betraying　recent　and

unsatisfactory　discussion。



For　a　fleeting　moment　a　shadow　darkened　his　boyish　face；　to　be

replaced　by　the　glow　of　tenderness。　　He　was　only　a　boy；　as　she　was

only　a　girltwo　young　things　on　the　threshold　of　life；　house…

renting　and　buying　carpets　together。



〃What's　the　good　of　worrying？〃　he　questioned。　　〃It's　the　last　go；

the　very　last。〃



He　smiled　at　her；　but　she　saw　on　his　lips　the　unconscious　and　all

but　breathed　sigh　of　renunciation；　and　with　the　instinctive　monopoly

of　woman　for　her　mate；　she　feared　this　thing　she　did　not　understand

and　which　gripped　his　life　so　strongly。



〃You　know　the　go　with　O'Neil　cleared　the　last　payment　on　mother's

house；〃　he　went　on。　　〃And　that's　off　my　mind。　　Now　this　last　with

Ponta　will　give　me　a　hundred　dollars　in　bankan　even　hundred；

that's　the　pursefor　you　and　me　to　start　on；　a　nest…egg。〃



She　disregarded　the　money　appeal。　　〃But　you　like　it；　thisthis

'game'　you　call　it。　　Why？〃



He　lacked　speech…expression。　　He　expressed　himself　with　his　hands；

at　his　work；　and　with　his　body　and　the　play　of　his　muscles　in　the

squared　ring；　but　to　tell　with　his　own　lips　the　charm　of　the　squared

ring　was　beyond　him。　　Yet　he　essayed；　and　haltingly　at　first；　to

express　what　he　felt　and　analyzed　when　playing　the　Game　at　the

supreme　summit　of　existence。



〃All　I　know；　Genevieve；　is　that　you　feel　good　in　the　ring　when

you've　got　the　man　where　you　want　him；　when　he's　had　a　punch　up　both

sleeves　waiting　for　you　and　you've　never　given　him　an　opening　to

land　'em；　when　you've　landed　your　own　little　punch　an'　he's　goin'

groggy；　an'　holdin'　on；　an'　the　referee's　dragging　him　off　so's　you

can　go　in　an'　finish　'm；　an'　all　the　house　is　shouting　an'　tearin'

itself　loose；　an'　you　know　you're　the　best　man；　an'　that　you　played

m'　fair　an'　won　out　because　you're　the　best　man。　　I　tell　you〃



He　ceased　brokenly；　alarmed　by　his　own　volubility　and　by　Genevieve's

look　of　alarm。　　As　he　talked　she　had　watched　his　face　while　fear

dawned　in　her　own。　　As　he　described　the　moment　of　moments　to　her；　on

his　inward　vision　were　lined　the　tottering　man；　the　lights；　the

shouting　house；　and　he　swept　out　and　away　from　her　on　this　tide　of

life　that　was　beyond　her　comprehension；　menacing；　irresistible；

making　her　love　pitiful　and　weak。　　The　Joe　she　knew　receded；　faded；

became　lost。　　The　fresh　boyish　face　was　gone；　the　tenderness　of　the

eyes；　the　sweetness　of　the　mouth　with　its　curves　and　pictured

corners。　　It　was　a　man's　face　she　saw；　a　face　of　steel；　tense　and

immobile；　a　mouth　of　steel；　the　lips　like　the　jaws　of　a　trap；　eyes

of　steel；　dilated；　intent；　and　the　light　in　them　and　the　glitter

were　the　light　and　glitter　of　steel。　　The　face　of　a　man；　and　she　had

known　only　his　boy　face。　　This　face　she　did　not　know　at　all。



And　yet；　while　it　frightened　her；　she　was　vaguely　stirred　with　pride

in　him。　　His　masculinity；　the　masculinity　of　the　fighting　male；　made

its　inevitable　appeal　to　her；　a　female；　moulded　by　all　her　heredity

to　seek　out　the　strong　man　for　mate；　and　to　lean　against　the　wall　of

his　strength。　　She　did　not　understand　this　force　of　his　being　that

rose　mightier　than　her　love　and　laid　its　compulsion　upon　him；　and

yet；　in　her　woman's　heart　she　was　aware　of　the　sweet　pang　which　told

her　that　for　her　sake；　for　Love's　own　sake；　he　had　surrendered　to

her；　abandoned　all　that　portion　of　his　life；　and　with　this　one　last

fight　would　never　fight　again。



〃Mrs。　Silverstein　doesn't　like　prize…fighting；〃　she　said。　　〃She's

down　on　it；　and　she　knows　something；　too。〃



He　smiled　indulgently；　concealing　a　hurt；　not　altogether　new；　at　her

persistent　inappreciation　of　this　side　of　his　nature　and　life　in

which　he　took　the　greatest　pride。　　It　was　to　him　power　and

achievement；　earned　by　his　own　effort　and　hard　work；　and　in　the

moment　when　he　had　offered　himself　and　all　that　he　was　to　Genevieve；

it　was　this；　and　this　alone；　that　he　was　proudly　conscious　of　laying

at　her　feet。　　It　was　the　merit　of　work　performed；　a　guerdon　of

manhood　finer　and　greater　than　any　other　man　could　offer；　and　it　had

been　to　him　his　justification　and　right　to　possess　her。　　And　she　had

not　understood　it　then；　as　she　did　not　understand　it　now；　and　he

might　well　have　wondered　what　else　she　found　in　him　to　make　him

worthy。



〃Mrs。　Silverstein　is　a　dub；　and　a　softy；　and　a　knocker；〃　he　said

good…humoredly。　　〃What's　she　know　about　such　things；　anyway？　　I　tell

you　it　IS　good；　and　healthy；　too；〃this　last　as　an　afterthought。

〃Look　at　me。　　I　tell　you　I　have　to　live　clean　to　be　in　condition

like　this。　　I　live　cleaner　than　she　does；　or　her　old　man；　or　anybody

you　knowbaths；　rub…downs；　exercise；　regular　hours；　good　food　and

no　makin'　a　pig　of　myself；　no　drinking；　no　smoking；　nothing　that'll

hurt　me。　　Why；　I　live　cleaner　than　you；　Genevieve〃



〃Honest；　I　do；〃　he　hastened　to　add　at　sight　of　her　shocked　face。　　〃I

don't　mean　water　an'　soap；　but　look　there。〃　　His　hand　closed

reverently　but　firmly　on　her　arm。　　〃Soft；　you're　all　soft；　all　over。

Not　like　mine。　　Here；　feel　this。〃



He　pressed　the　ends　of　her　fingers　into　his　hard　arm…muscles　until

she　winced　from　the　hurt。



〃Hard　all　over　just　like　that；〃　he　went　on。　　〃Now　that's　what　I　call

clean。　　Every　bit　of　flesh　an'　blood　an'　muscle　is　clean　right　down

to　the　bonesand　they're　clean；　too。　　No　soap　and　water　only　on　the

skin；　but　clean　all　the　way　in。　　I　tell　you　it　feels　clean。　　It

knows　it's　clean　itself。　　When　I　wake　up　in　the　morning　an'　go　to

work；　every　drop　of　blood　and　bit　of　meat　is　shouting　right　out　that

it　is　clean。　　Oh；　I　tell　you〃



He　paused　with　swift　awkwardness；　again　confounded　by　his　unwonted

flow　of　speech。　　Never　in　his　life　had　he　been　stirred　to　such

utterance；　and　never　in　his　life　had　there　been　cause　to　be　so

stirred。　　For　it　was　the　Game　that　had　been　questioned；　its　verity

and　worth；　the　Game　itself；　the　biggest　thing　in　the　worldor　what

had　been　the　biggest　thing　in　the　world　until　that　chance　afternoon

and　that　chance　purchase　in　Silverstein's　candy　store；　when

Genevieve　loomed　suddenly　colossal　in　his　life；　overshadowing　all

other　things。　　He　was　beginning　to　see；　though　vaguely；　the　sharp

conflict　between　woman　and　career；　between　a　man's　work　in　the　world

and　woman's　need　of　the　man。　　But　he　was　not　capable　of

generalization。　　He　saw　only　the　antagonism　between　the　concrete；

flesh…and…blood　Genevieve　and　the　great；　abstract；　living　Game。

Each　resented　the　other；　each　claimed　him；　he　was　torn　with　the

strife；　and　yet　drifted　helpless　on　the　currents　of　their

contention。



His　words　had　drawn　Genevieve's　gaze　to　his　face；　and　she　had

pleasured　in　the　clear　skin；　the　clear　eyes；　the　cheek　soft　and

smooth　as　a　girl's。　　She　saw　the　force　of　his　argument　and　disliked

it　accordingly。　　She　revolted　instinctively　against　this　Game　which

drew　him　away　from　her；　robbed　her　of　part　of　him。　　It　was　a　rival