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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 110/192
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These
two
gentlemen
and
one
of
the
curates
carried
him
up
the
stairs
and
laid
him
down
again
on
the
floor
of
the
bar
.
In
two
minutes
he
was
surrounded
by
a
ring
of
men
.
The
manager
of
the
bar
asked
everyone
who
he
was
and
who
was
with
him
.
No
one
knew
who
he
was
but
one
of
the
curates
said
he
had
served
the
gentleman
with
a
small
rum
.
"
Was
he
by
himself
?
"
asked
the
manager
.
"
No
,
sir
.
There
was
two
gentlemen
with
him
.
"
"
And
where
are
they
?
"
No
one
knew
;
a
voice
said
:
"
Give
him
air
.
He
's
fainted
.
"
The
ring
of
onlookers
distended
and
closed
again
elastically
.
A
dark
medal
of
blood
had
formed
itself
near
the
man
's
head
on
the
tessellated
floor
.
The
manager
,
alarmed
by
the
grey
pallor
of
the
man
's
face
,
sent
for
a
policeman
.
His
collar
was
unfastened
and
his
necktie
undone
.
He
opened
eyes
for
an
instant
,
sighed
and
closed
them
again
.
One
of
gentlemen
who
had
carried
him
upstairs
held
a
dinged
silk
hat
in
his
hand
.
The
manager
asked
repeatedly
did
no
one
know
who
the
injured
man
was
or
where
had
his
friends
gone
.
The
door
of
the
bar
opened
and
an
immense
constable
entered
.
A
crowd
which
had
followed
him
down
the
laneway
collected
outside
the
door
,
struggling
to
look
in
through
the
glass
panels
.
The
manager
at
once
began
to
narrate
what
he
knew
.
The
costable
,
a
young
man
with
thick
immobile
features
,
listened
.
He
moved
his
head
slowly
to
right
and
left
and
from
the
manager
to
the
person
on
the
floor
,
as
if
he
feared
to
be
the
victim
some
delusion
.
Then
he
drew
off
his
glove
,
produced
a
small
book
from
his
waist
,
licked
the
lead
of
his
pencil
and
made
ready
to
indite
.
He
asked
in
a
suspicious
provincial
accent
:
