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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 114/192
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The
car
drove
off
towards
Westmoreland
Street
.
As
it
passed
Ballast
Office
the
clock
showed
half-past
nine
.
A
keen
east
wind
hit
them
,
blowing
from
the
mouth
of
the
river
.
Mr.
Kernan
was
huddled
together
with
cold
.
His
friend
asked
him
to
tell
how
the
accident
had
happened
.
"
I
'
a
n't
'
an
,
"
he
answered
,
"'
y
'
ongue
is
hurt
.
"
"
Show
.
"
The
other
leaned
over
the
well
of
the
car
and
peered
into
Mr.
Kernan
's
mouth
but
he
could
not
see
.
He
struck
a
match
and
,
sheltering
it
in
the
shell
of
his
hands
,
peered
again
into
the
mouth
which
Mr.
Kernan
opened
obediently
.
The
swaying
movement
of
the
car
brought
the
match
to
and
from
the
opened
mouth
.
The
lower
teeth
and
gums
were
covered
with
clotted
blood
and
a
minute
piece
of
the
tongue
seemed
to
have
been
bitten
off
.
The
match
was
blown
out
.
"
That
's
ugly
,
"
said
Mr.
Power
.
"
Sha
,
'
s
nothing
,
"
said
Mr.
Kernan
,
closing
his
mouth
and
pulling
the
collar
of
his
filthy
coat
across
his
neck
.
Mr.
Kernan
was
a
commercial
traveller
of
the
old
school
which
believed
in
the
dignity
of
its
calling
.
He
had
never
been
seen
in
the
city
without
a
silk
hat
of
some
decency
and
a
pair
of
gaiters
.
By
grace
of
these
two
articles
of
clothing
,
he
said
,
a
man
could
always
pass
muster
.
He
carried
on
the
tradition
of
his
Napoleon
,
the
great
Blackwhite
,
whose
memory
he
evoked
at
times
by
legend
and
mimicry
.
Modern
business
methods
had
spared
him
only
so
far
as
to
allow
him
a
little
office
in
Crowe
Street
,
on
the
window
blind
of
which
was
written
the
name
of
his
firm
with
the
address
--
London
,
E.
C.
On
the
mantelpiece
of
this
little
office
a
little
leaden
battalion
of
canisters
was
drawn
up
and
on
the
table
before
the
window
stood
four
or
five
china
bowls
which
were
usually
half
full
of
a
black
liquid
.
From
these
bowls
Mr.
Kernan
tasted
tea
.
He
took
a
mouthful
,
drew
it
up
,
saturated
his
palate
with
it
and
then
spat
it
forth
into
the
grate
.
Then
he
paused
to
judge
.
Mr.
Power
,
a
much
younger
man
,
was
employed
in
the
Royal
Irish
Constabulary
Office
in
Dublin
Castle
.
The
arc
of
his
social
rise
intersected
the
arc
of
his
friend
's
decline
,
but
Mr.
Kernan
's
decline
was
mitigated
by
the
fact
that
certain
of
those
friends
who
had
known
him
at
his
highest
point
of
success
still
esteemed
him
as
a
character
.
Mr.
Power
was
one
of
these
friends
.
His
inexplicable
debts
were
a
byword
in
his
circle
;
he
was
a
debonair
young
man
.
The
car
halted
before
a
small
house
on
the
Glasnevin
road
and
Mr.
Kernan
was
helped
into
the
house
.
His
wife
put
him
to
bed
while
Mr.
Power
sat
downstairs
in
the
kitchen
asking
the
children
where
they
went
to
school
and
what
book
they
were
in
.
The
children
--
two
girls
and
a
boy
,
conscious
of
their
father
helplessness
and
of
their
mother
's
absence
,
began
some
horseplay
with
him
.
He
was
surprised
at
their
manners
and
at
their
accents
,
and
his
brow
grew
thoughtful
.
After
a
while
Mrs.
Kernan
entered
the
kitchen
,
exclaiming
:
