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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 14/192
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The
man
continued
his
monologue
.
He
seemed
to
have
forgotten
his
recent
liberalism
.
He
said
that
if
ever
he
found
a
boy
talking
to
girls
or
having
a
girl
for
a
sweetheart
he
would
whip
him
and
whip
him
;
and
that
would
teach
him
not
to
be
talking
to
girls
.
And
if
a
boy
had
a
girl
for
a
sweetheart
and
told
lies
about
it
then
he
would
give
him
such
a
whipping
as
no
boy
ever
got
in
this
world
He
said
that
there
was
nothing
in
this
world
he
would
like
so
well
as
that
.
He
described
to
me
how
he
would
whip
such
a
boy
as
if
he
were
unfolding
some
elaborate
mystery
.
He
would
love
that
,
he
said
,
better
than
anything
in
this
world
;
and
his
voice
,
as
he
led
me
monotonously
through
the
mystery
,
grew
almost
affectionate
and
seemed
to
plead
with
me
that
I
should
understand
him
.
I
waited
till
his
monologue
paused
again
.
Then
I
stood
up
abruptly
.
Lest
I
should
betray
my
agitation
I
delayed
a
few
moments
pretending
to
fix
my
shoe
properly
and
then
,
saying
that
I
was
obliged
to
go
,
I
bade
him
good-day
.
I
went
up
the
slope
calmly
but
my
heart
was
beating
quickly
with
fear
that
he
would
seize
me
by
the
ankles
.
When
I
reached
the
top
of
the
slope
I
turned
round
and
,
without
looking
at
him
,
called
loudly
across
the
field
:
"
Murphy
!
"
My
voice
had
an
accent
of
forced
bravery
in
it
and
I
was
ashamed
of
my
paltry
stratagem
.
I
had
to
call
the
name
again
before
Mahony
saw
me
and
hallooed
in
answer
.
How
my
heart
beat
as
he
came
running
across
the
field
to
me
!
He
ran
as
if
to
bring
me
aid
.
And
I
was
penitent
;
for
in
my
heart
I
had
always
despised
him
a
little
.
North
Richmond
Street
being
blind
,
was
a
quiet
street
except
at
the
hour
when
the
Christian
Brothers
'
School
set
the
boys
free
.
An
uninhabited
house
of
two
storeys
stood
at
the
blind
end
,
detached
from
its
neighbours
in
a
square
ground
The
other
houses
of
the
street
,
conscious
of
decent
lives
within
them
,
gazed
at
one
another
with
brown
imperturbable
faces
.
The
former
tenant
of
our
house
,
a
priest
,
had
died
in
the
back
drawing-room
.
Air
,
musty
from
having
been
long
enclosed
,
hung
in
all
the
rooms
,
and
the
waste
room
behind
the
kitchen
was
littered
with
old
useless
papers
.
Among
these
I
found
a
few
paper-covered
books
,
the
pages
of
which
were
curled
and
damp
:
The
Abbot
,
by
Walter
Scott
,
The
Devout
Communnicant
and
The
Memoirs
of
Vidocq
.
I
liked
the
last
best
because
its
leaves
were
yellow
.
The
wild
garden
behind
the
house
contained
a
central
apple-tree
and
a
few
straggling
bushes
under
one
of
which
I
found
the
late
tenant
's
rusty
bicycle-pump
.
He
had
been
a
very
charitable
priest
;
in
his
will
he
had
left
all
his
money
to
institutions
and
the
furniture
of
his
house
to
his
sister
.
When
the
short
days
of
winter
came
dusk
fell
before
we
had
well
eaten
our
dinners
.
When
we
met
in
the
street
the
houses
had
grown
sombre
.
The
space
of
sky
above
us
was
the
colour
of
ever-changing
violet
and
towards
it
the
lamps
of
the
street
lifted
their
feeble
lanterns
.
The
cold
air
stung
us
and
we
played
till
our
bodies
glowed
.
Our
shouts
echoed
in
the
silent
street
.
The
career
of
our
play
brought
us
through
the
dark
muddy
lanes
behind
the
houses
where
we
ran
the
gauntlet
of
the
rough
tribes
from
the
cottages
,
to
the
back
doors
of
the
dark
dripping
gardens
where
odours
arose
from
the
ashpits
,
to
the
dark
odorous
stables
where
a
coachman
smoothed
and
combed
the
horse
or
shook
music
from
the
buckled
harness
.
When
we
returned
to
the
street
light
from
the
kitchen
windows
had
filled
the
areas
.
If
my
uncle
was
seen
turning
the
corner
we
hid
in
the
shadow
until
we
had
seen
him
safely
housed
.
Or
if
Mangan
's
sister
came
out
on
the
doorstep
to
call
her
brother
in
to
his
tea
we
watched
her
from
our
shadow
peer
up
and
down
the
street
.
We
waited
to
see
whether
she
would
remain
or
go
in
and
,
if
she
remained
,
we
left
our
shadow
and
walked
up
to
Mangan
's
steps
resignedly
.
She
was
waiting
for
us
,
her
figure
defined
by
the
light
from
the
half-opened
door
.
Her
brother
always
teased
her
before
he
obeyed
and
I
stood
by
the
railings
looking
at
her
.
Her
dress
swung
as
she
moved
her
body
and
the
soft
rope
of
her
hair
tossed
from
side
to
side
.
Every
morning
I
lay
on
the
floor
in
the
front
parlour
watching
her
door
.
The
blind
was
pulled
down
to
within
an
inch
of
the
sash
so
that
I
could
not
be
seen
.
When
she
came
out
on
the
doorstep
my
heart
leaped
.
I
ran
to
the
hall
,
seized
my
books
and
followed
her
.
I
kept
her
brown
figure
always
in
my
eye
and
,
when
we
came
near
the
point
at
which
our
ways
diverged
,
I
quickened
my
pace
and
passed
her
.
This
happened
morning
after
morning
.
