The Jungle by Upton Sinclair (easy to read books for adults list TXT) 📕

back he would go into that wild-beast pen from which he had just escaped!

To get up and go away was to give up, to acknowledge defeat, to leave the strange family in possession; and Jurgis might have sat shivering in the rain for hours before he could do that, had it not been for the thought of his family. It might be that he had worse things yet to learn⁠—and so he got to his feet and started away, walking on, wearily, half-dazed.

To Aniele’s house, in back of the yards, was a good two miles; the distance had never seemed longer to Jurgis, and when he saw the familiar dingy-gray shanty his heart was beating fast. He ran up the steps and began to hammer upon the door.

The old woman herself came to open it. She had shrunk all up with her rheumatism since Jurgis had seen her last, and her yellow parchment face stared up at him from a little above the level of the doorknob. She gave a start when she saw him. “Is Ona here?” he cried, breathlessly.

“Yes,” was the answer, “she’s here.”

“How⁠—” Jurgis began, and then stopped short, clutching convulsively at the side of the door. From somewhere within the house had come a sudden cry, a wild, horrible scream of anguish. And the voice was Ona’s.

For a moment Jurgis stood half-paralyzed with fright; then he bounded past the old woman and into the room.

It was Aniele’s kitchen, and huddled round the stove were half a dozen women, pale and frightened. One of them started to her feet as Jurgis entered; she was haggard and frightfully thin, with one arm tied up in bandages⁠—he hardly realized that it was Marija. He looked first for Ona; then, not seeing her, he stared at the women, expecting them to speak. But they sat dumb, gazing back at him, panic-stricken; and a second later came another piercing scream.

It was from the rear of the house, and upstairs. Jurgis bounded to a door of the room and flung it open; there was a ladder leading through a trapdoor to the garret, and he was at the foot of it, when suddenly he heard a voice behind him, and saw Marija at his heels. She seized him by the sleeve with her good hand, panting wildly, “No, no, Jurgis! Stop!”

“What do you mean?” he gasped.

“You mustn’t go up,” she cried.

Jurgis was half-crazed with bewilderment and fright. “What’s the matter?” he shouted. “What is it?”

Marija clung to him tightly; he could hear Ona sobbing and moaning above, and he fought to get away and climb up, without waiting for her reply. “No, no,” she rushed on. “Jurgis! You mustn’t go up! It’s⁠—it’s the child!”

“The child?” he echoed in perplexity. “Antanas?”

Marija answered him, in a whisper: “The new one!”

And then Jurgis went limp, and caught himself on the ladder. He stared at her as if she were a ghost. “The new one!” he gasped. “But it isn’t time,” he added, wildly.

Marija nodded. “I know,” she said; “but it’s come.”

And then again came Ona’s scream, smiting him like a blow in the face, making him wince and turn white. Her voice died away into a wail⁠—then he heard her sobbing again, “My God⁠—let me die, let me die!” And Marija flung her arms about him, crying: “Come out! Come away!”

She dragged him back into the kitchen, half carrying him, for he had gone all to pieces. It was as if the pillars of his soul had fallen in⁠—he was blasted with horror. In the room he sank into a chair, trembling like a leaf, Marija still holding him, and the women staring at him in dumb, helpless fright.

And then again Ona cried out; he could hear it nearly as plainly here, and he staggered to his feet. “How long has this been going on?” he panted.

“Not very long,” Marija answered, and then, at a signal from Aniele, she rushed on: “You go away, Jurgis⁠—you can’t help⁠—go away and come back later. It’s all right⁠—it’s⁠—”

“Who’s with her?” Jurgis demanded; and then, seeing Marija hesitating, he cried again, “Who’s with her?”

“She’s⁠—she’s all right,” she answered. “Elzbieta’s with her.”

“But the doctor!” he panted. “Someone who knows!”

He seized Marija by the arm; she trembled, and her voice sank beneath a whisper as she replied, “We⁠—we have no money.” Then, frightened at the look on his face, she exclaimed: “It’s all right, Jurgis! You don’t understand⁠—go away⁠—go away! Ah, if you only had waited!”

Above her protests Jurgis heard Ona again; he was almost out of his mind. It was all new to him, raw and horrible⁠—it had fallen upon him like a lightning stroke. When little Antanas was born he had been at work, and had known nothing about it until it was over; and now he was not to be controlled. The frightened women were at their wits’ end; one after another they tried to reason with him, to make him understand that this was the lot of woman. In the end they half drove him out into the rain, where he began to pace up and down, bareheaded and frantic. Because he could hear Ona from the street, he would first go away to escape the sounds, and then come back because he could not help it. At the end of a quarter of an hour he rushed up the steps again, and for fear that he would break in the door they had to open it and let him in.

There was no arguing with him. They could not tell him that all was going well⁠—how could they know, he cried⁠—why, she was dying, she was being torn to pieces! Listen to her⁠—listen! Why, it was monstrous⁠—it could not be allowed⁠—there must be some help for it! Had they tried to get a doctor? They might pay him afterwards⁠—they could promise⁠—

“We couldn’t promise, Jurgis,” protested Marija. “We had no money⁠—we have scarcely been able to keep alive.”

“But I can work,” Jurgis exclaimed. “I can earn money!”

“Yes,” she