原文（英语）：

    The Furnished Room

    Restless, shifting, fugae itself is a  vast bulk of the population of the red brick district of the lower West Side.

    Homeless, they have a huhey flit from furo furras forever--tras iras i and mind. They si Htime; they carry their ~lares et penates~ in a bandbox; their viicture hat; a rubber plaree.

    Hehe houses of this distrig had a thousand dwellers, should have a thousaell, mostly dull ones, no doubt; but it would be strahere ot be found a ghost or two ihese vagras.

    Oer dark a young mahese g red mansi their bells. At the twelfth he rested his lean hahe step ahe dust from his hatband ahe bell sou and far away ie, hollow depths.

    To the door of this, the twelfth house whose bell he had rung, came a housekeeper who made him think of an ued worm that had eaten its nut to a hollow shell and now sought to fill the vacy with edible lodgers.

    He asked if there was a room to let.

    "e in," said the housekeeper. Her voice  her throat; her throat seemed lih fur. "I have the third floor bat since a week back. Should you wish to look at it?"

    The young man followed her up the stairs. A faint light from no partiitigated the shadows of the halls. They trod noiselessly upon a stair carpet that its own loom would have forsworo have bee vegetable; to have dege rao lush li  moss that grew ihe staird was visder the foa ea of the stairs were vai the wall.

    Perhaps plants had ohin them. If so they had died in that foul a may be that statues of the saints had stood there, but it was not difficult to ceive that imps and devils had dragged them forth in the darkness and down to the uhs of some fur below.

    "This is the room," said the housekeeper, from her furry throat.

    "It's a  ai. I had some most elega last summer-- all, and paid ihe mier's at the end of the hall. Sprowls a three months. They done a vaudeville sketch. Miss B'retta

    Sprowls--you may have heard of her--Oh, that was just the stage  there over the dresser is where the marriage certifig, framed. The gas is here, ahere is plenty of . It's a room everybody likes. It ays idle long."

    "Do you have mariing here?" asked the young man.

    "They es and goes. A good proportion of my lodgers is ected with the theatres. Yes, sir, this is the theatrical district. Actor people ays lo my share. Yes, they es and they goes."

    He ehe room, paying for a week in advaired, he said, and ossession at oed out the money.

    The room had been made ready, she said, even to towels ahe housekeeper moved aut, for the thousahe question that he carried at the end of his tongue.

    "A young girl--Miss Vashner--Miss Eloise Vashner--do you remember suers? She would be singiage,most likely. A fair girl, of medium height ah reddish, gold hair and a dark mole  eyebrow."

    "No, I dohe age people has hey ge as often as their rooms. They es and they goes. No, I

    don't call that oo mind."

    No. Always hs of ceaseless iioable ive. So much time spent by day iionis, sd choruses; by night among the audieheatres from all-star usic halls so low that he dreaded to fi hoped for. He who had loved her best had tried to find her. He was sure that since her disappearane this great, water-girt city held her somewhere, but it was like a monstrous quid, shifting its partistantly, with no foundation, its upper grao-day buried to-morrow in ooze and slime.

    The furnished room received its latest guest with a first glow of pseudo-hospitality, a hectic, haggard, perfune like the speile of a demirep. The sophistie ied gleams from the deiture, the raggcd brocade upholstery of a d two chairs, a footier glass

    betwees, frilt picture frames and a brass bedstead in a er.

    The guest reert, upon a chair, while the room, fused ihough it artmeried to dis of its divers tenantry.

    A polyatic rug like some brilliaangular,tropical islet lay surrounded by a billowy sea of soiled matting.

    Upon the gay-papered wall were those pictures that pursue the homeless one from house to house--The Huguehe First Quarrel, The Weddi, Psyche at the Fouel's chastely severe outline was ingloriously veiled behi

    drapery drawn rakishly askew like the sashes of the Amazo.

    Upon it was some desolate flotsam cast aside by the room's marooned when a lucky sail had boro a fresh p vase or two, pictures of actresses, a medie stray cards out of a deck.

    Ohe characters raph bee explicit, the little sighe furnished room's pro of guests developed a sighreadbare spa the rug in front of the dresser told that lovely woman had mar the throng.

    Tis on the oke of little pris to feel their way to sun and air. A splattered stain, rayihe shadow  bomb, witnessed where a hurled glass or bottle had splis ts against the wall. Across the pier glass had beeh a diamond iers the name

    "Marie." It seemed that the su of dwellers in the furnished room had turned iempted beyond forbearas garish ess--a their passioure ed ahe couch, distorted by bursting springs, seemed a horrible mo had been slain duriress of some grotesque ore potent upheaval had  a great sliarble mantel. Eak in the floor ows partit and shriek as from a separate and individual agony. It seemed i all this malijury had been wrought upon the room by those who had called it for a time their home; a may have beeed home instinct surviving

    bliful rage at false household gods that had kindled

    their wrath. A hut that is our oeep and adorn and cherish.

    The youhe chair allowed these thoughts to file, soft-shh his mihere drifted into the room furnished

    sounds and furs. He heard iittering and i, slack laughter; ihe monologue of a sc of dice, a lullaby, and  dully; above him a bah spirit. Ded somewhere; the elevated trains

    roared ily; a iserably upon a bad he breathed the breath of the house--a dank savour rather than a smell--a usty effluvium as frround vaults mihe reekiions of linoleum aten woodwork.

    Then, suddehere, the room was filled with the stro  came as upo of wind with suess and fragrahat it almost seemed a living visitant. And the man cried aloud: "What, dear?" as

    if he had been d sprang up a. The rich  to him and ed him arou his arms for it, all his sehe time fused and ingled. How e be peremptorily called by an odour? Surely it must have been a sound. But, was it hat had touched, that had caressed him?

    "She has been in this room," he d he spra from it a token, for he knew he w thing that had belo she had touched. This envelopi of mighe odour that she had loved and made her ow?

    The room had been but carelessly set iered upon the flimsy dresser scarf were half a dozen hairpi,indistinguishable friends of womankind, feminine of gender, infinite of mood and unuehese he ignored, scious of

    their triumphant latity. Ransag the drawers of the dresser he  a discarded, tiny, ragged handkerchief. He pressed it to his face. It was rasolerope; he hurled it to the floor. In another drawer he found odd buttore programme, a pawnbroker's arshmallows, a book oiohe last was a woman's bla hair bow, which halted him, poised between id fire. But the bla hairbow also is femininity's demure, impersonal, eales.

    Araversed the room like a hou, skimming the walls, g the ers of the bulging matting on his hands and knees, rummagiables, the s and hangngs, the dru in the er, for a visible sigo perceive that she was there beside, around, against,within, above him, g to him, wooing him, g him so poignantly through the fi even his grosser ones beisant of the  he answered loudly: "Yes, dear!"

    and turned, wild-eyed, to gaze on vacy, for he ot yet dis and d love ached arms in the e. Oh, God! whe odour, and sin have odours had a voice to call? Thus he groped.

    He burrowed in crevid ers, and found d cigarettes.

    These he passed i. But ond in a fold of the matting a half-smoked d this he grouh his heel with a gree oath. He sifted the room from end to end.

    He fnoble small reait; but of her whom he sought, and who may have lodged there, a seemed to hover there, he found no trace.

    A of the housekeeper.

    He raed room downstairs and to a door that showed a crack of light. She came out to his khered his ext as best he could.

    "Will you tell me, madam," he besought her, "who occupied the room I have before I came?"

    "Yes, sir. I  tell you again. 'Trowls and Mooney, as I said. Miss B'retta Sprowls it was ires, but Missis Mooney she was. My house is well knowability. The marriage certifig, framed, on a nail over--"

    "What kind of a lady rowls--in looks, I mean?"

    Why, black-haired, sir, short, and stout, with a ical face. They left a week ago Tuesday."

    "Ahey occupied it?"

    "Why, there was a silemahe draying busi owing me a week. Before him was Missis d her two , that stayed four months; and ba was old Mr. Doyle, whose sons paid for him. He kept the room six months.

    That goes back a year, sir, and further I do not remember."

    He thanked her ao his room. The room was dead. The esse had vivified it was gohe perfume of mige had departed. In its place was the old, stale odour of mouldy house furmosphere in ste.

    The ebbing of his hope drained his faith. He sat staring at the yellow, singing gaslight. Soohe bed aear the sheets into strips. With the blade of his khem tightly into every crevid windows and door. When all was snug aurhe light, turhe gas full on again and laid himself gratefully upon the bed.

    * * * * * * *

    It was Mrs. Might to go with the  for beer. So she fetd sat with Mrs. Purdy ihose subterras where house-keepers father and the worm dieth seldom.

    "I re my third floor, back, this evening," said Mrs. Purdy, across a fine . "A young man took it. He went up to bed two."

    "Now, did ye, Mrs. Purdy, ma'am?" said Mrs. McCool, with iion. "You do be a wonder for rentin' rooms of that kind. Aell him, then?" she  a husky whisper, laden with mystery.

    "Rooms," said Mrs. Purdy, in her furriest tones, "are furo rent. I did not tell him, Mrs. McCool."

    "'Tis right ye are, ma'am; 'tis by renting rooms e alive. Ye have the rale sense for business, ma'am. There be many people will rayjitin' of a room if they be tould a suicide has been after dyin' i."

    "As you say, we has  to be making," remarked Mrs. Purdy.

    "Yis, ma'am; 'tis true. 'Tis just ohis day I helped ye lay out the third floor, back. A pretty slip of a  she was to be killihe gas--a swate little face she had, Mrs.

    Purdy, ma'am."

    "She'd a-been dsome, as you say," said Mrs. Purdy,assenting but critical, "but for that mole she had a-growi eyebrow. Do fill up yain, Mrs. McCool."