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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 13/192
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His
attitude
on
this
point
struck
me
as
strangely
liberal
in
a
man
of
his
age
.
In
my
heart
I
thought
that
what
he
said
about
boys
and
sweethearts
was
reasonable
.
But
I
disliked
the
words
in
his
mouth
and
I
wondered
why
he
shivered
once
or
twice
as
if
he
feared
something
or
felt
a
sudden
chill
.
As
he
proceeded
I
noticed
that
his
accent
was
good
.
He
began
to
speak
to
us
about
girls
,
saying
what
nice
soft
hair
they
had
and
how
soft
their
hands
were
and
how
all
girls
were
not
so
good
as
they
seemed
to
be
if
one
only
knew
.
There
was
nothing
he
liked
,
he
said
,
so
much
as
looking
at
a
nice
young
girl
,
at
her
nice
white
hands
and
her
beautiful
soft
hair
.
He
gave
me
the
impression
that
he
was
repeating
something
which
he
had
learned
by
heart
or
that
,
magnetised
by
some
words
of
his
own
speech
,
his
mind
was
slowly
circling
round
and
round
in
the
same
orbit
.
At
times
he
spoke
as
if
he
were
simply
alluding
to
some
fact
that
everybody
knew
,
and
at
times
he
lowered
his
voice
and
spoke
mysteriously
as
if
he
were
telling
us
something
secret
which
he
did
not
wish
others
to
overhear
.
He
repeated
his
phrases
over
and
over
again
,
varying
them
and
surrounding
them
with
his
monotonous
voice
.
I
continued
to
gaze
towards
the
foot
of
the
slope
,
listening
to
him
.
After
a
long
while
his
monologue
paused
.
He
stood
up
slowly
,
saying
that
he
had
to
leave
us
for
a
minute
or
so
,
a
few
minutes
,
and
,
without
changing
the
direction
of
my
gaze
,
I
saw
him
walking
slowly
away
from
us
towards
the
near
end
of
the
field
.
We
remained
silent
when
he
had
gone
.
After
a
silence
of
a
few
minutes
I
heard
Mahony
exclaim
:
"
I
say
!
Look
what
he
's
doing
!
"
As
I
neither
answered
nor
raised
my
eyes
Mahony
exclaimed
again
:
"
I
say
...
He
's
a
queer
old
josser
!
"
"
In
case
he
asks
us
for
our
names
,
"
I
said
"
let
you
be
Murphy
and
I
'll
be
Smith
.
"
We
said
nothing
further
to
each
other
.
I
was
still
considering
whether
I
would
go
away
or
not
when
the
man
came
back
and
sat
down
beside
us
again
.
Hardly
had
he
sat
down
when
Mahony
,
catching
sight
of
the
cat
which
had
escaped
him
,
sprang
up
and
pursued
her
across
the
field
.
The
man
and
I
watched
the
chase
.
The
cat
escaped
once
more
and
Mahony
began
to
throw
stones
at
the
wall
she
had
escaladed
.
Desisting
from
this
,
he
began
to
wander
about
the
far
end
of
the
field
,
aimlessly
.
After
an
interval
the
man
spoke
to
me
.
He
said
that
my
friend
was
a
very
rough
boy
and
asked
did
he
get
whipped
often
at
school
.
I
was
going
to
reply
indignantly
that
we
were
not
National
School
boys
to
be
whipped
,
as
he
called
it
;
but
I
remained
silent
.
He
began
to
speak
on
the
subject
of
chastising
boys
.
His
mind
,
as
if
magnetised
again
by
his
speech
,
seemed
to
circle
slowly
round
and
round
its
new
centre
.
He
said
that
when
boys
were
that
kind
they
ought
to
be
whipped
and
well
whipped
.
When
a
boy
was
rough
and
unruly
there
was
nothing
would
do
him
any
good
but
a
good
sound
whipping
.
A
slap
on
the
hand
or
a
box
on
the
ear
was
no
good
:
what
he
wanted
was
to
get
a
nice
warm
whipping
.
I
was
surprised
at
this
sentiment
and
involuntarily
glanced
up
at
his
face
.
As
I
did
so
I
met
the
gaze
of
a
pair
of
bottle-green
eyes
peering
at
me
from
under
a
twitching
forehead
.
I
turned
my
eyes
away
again
.
