Maggie: A Girl of the Streets - Stephen Crane - Страница 1 из 85
MAGGIE: A GIRL OF THE STREETS
A very little boy stood upon a heap of gravel for the honor of Rum
Alley. He was throwing stones at howling urchins from Devil's Row who
were circling madly about the heap and pelting at him.
His infantile countenance was livid with fury. His small body was
writhing in the delivery of great, crimson oaths.
"Run, Jimmie, run! Dey'll get yehs," screamed a retreating Rum Alley
"Naw," responded Jimmie with a valiant roar, "dese micks can't make me
Howls of renewed wrath went up from Devil's Row throats. Tattered
gamins on the right made a furious assault on the gravel heap. On
their small, convulsed faces there shone the grins of true assassins.
As they charged, they threw stones and cursed in shrill chorus.
The little champion of Rum Alley stumbled precipitately down the other
side. His coat had been torn to shreds in a scuffle, and his hat was
gone. He had bruises on twenty parts of his body, and blood was
dripping from a cut in his head. His wan features wore a look of a
tiny, insane demon.
On the ground, children from Devil's Row closed in on their antagonist.
He crooked his left arm defensively about his head and fought with
cursing fury. The little boys ran to and fro, dodging, hurling stones
and swearing in barbaric trebles.
From a window of an apartment house that upreared its form from amid
squat, ignorant stables, there leaned a curious woman. Some laborers,
unloading a scow at a dock at the river, paused for a moment and
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