-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Дублинцы
-
- Стр. 71/192
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
As
he
sat
there
,
living
over
his
life
with
her
and
evoking
alternately
the
two
images
in
which
he
now
conceived
her
,
he
realised
that
she
was
dead
,
that
she
had
ceased
to
exist
,
that
she
had
become
a
memory
.
He
began
to
feel
ill
at
ease
.
He
asked
himself
what
else
could
he
have
done
.
He
could
not
have
carried
on
a
comedy
of
deception
with
her
;
he
could
not
have
lived
with
her
openly
.
He
had
done
what
seemed
to
him
best
.
How
was
he
to
blame
?
Now
that
she
was
gone
he
understood
how
lonely
her
life
must
have
been
,
sitting
night
after
night
alone
in
that
room
.
His
life
would
be
lonely
too
until
he
,
too
,
died
,
ceased
to
exist
,
became
a
memory
--
if
anyone
remembered
him
.
It
was
after
nine
o'clock
when
he
left
the
shop
.
The
night
was
cold
and
gloomy
.
He
entered
the
Park
by
the
first
gate
and
walked
along
under
the
gaunt
trees
.
He
walked
through
the
bleak
alleys
where
they
had
walked
four
years
before
.
She
seemed
to
be
near
him
in
the
darkness
.
At
moments
he
seemed
to
feel
her
voice
touch
his
ear
,
her
hand
touch
his
.
He
stood
still
to
listen
.
Why
had
he
withheld
life
from
her
?
Why
had
he
sentenced
her
to
death
?
He
felt
his
moral
nature
falling
to
pieces
.
When
he
gained
the
crest
of
the
Magazine
Hill
he
halted
and
looked
along
the
river
towards
Dublin
,
the
lights
of
which
burned
redly
and
hospitably
in
the
cold
night
.
He
looked
down
the
slope
and
,
at
the
base
,
in
the
shadow
of
the
wall
of
the
Park
,
he
saw
some
human
figures
lying
.
Those
venal
and
furtive
loves
filled
him
with
despair
.
He
gnawed
the
rectitude
of
his
life
;
he
felt
that
he
had
been
outcast
from
life
's
feast
.
One
human
being
had
seemed
to
love
him
and
he
had
denied
her
life
and
happiness
:
he
had
sentenced
her
to
ignominy
,
a
death
of
shame
He
knew
that
the
prostrate
creatures
down
by
the
wall
were
watching
him
and
wished
him
gone
.
No
one
wanted
him
;
he
was
outcast
from
life
's
feast
.
He
turned
his
eyes
to
the
grey
gleaming
river
,
winding
along
towards
Dublin
.
Beyond
the
river
he
saw
a
goods
train
winding
out
of
Kingsbridge
Station
,
like
a
worm
with
a
fiery
head
winding
through
the
darkness
,
obstinately
and
laboriously
.
It
passed
slowly
out
of
sight
;
but
still
he
heard
in
his
ears
the
laborious
drone
of
the
engine
reiterating
the
syllables
of
her
name
.
He
turned
back
the
way
he
had
come
,
the
rhythm
of
the
engine
pounding
in
his
ears
.
He
began
to
doubt
the
reality
of
what
memory
told
him
.
He
halted
under
a
tree
and
allowed
the
rhythm
to
die
away
.
He
could
not
feel
her
near
him
in
the
darkness
nor
her
voice
touch
his
ear
.
He
waited
for
some
minutes
listening
.
He
could
hear
nothing
:
the
night
was
perfectly
silent
.
He
listened
again
:
perfectly
silent
.
He
felt
that
he
was
alone
.
Old
Jack
raked
the
cinders
together
with
a
piece
of
cardboard
and
spread
them
judiciously
over
the
whitening
dome
of
coals
.
When
the
dome
was
thinly
covered
his
face
lapsed
into
darkness
but
,
as
he
set
himself
to
fan
the
fire
again
,
his
crouching
shadow
ascended
the
opposite
wall
and
his
face
slowly
reemerged
into
light
.
It
was
an
old
man
's
face
,
very
bony
and
hairy
.
The
moist
blue
eyes
blinked
at
the
fire
and
the
moist
mouth
fell
open
at
times
,
munching
once
or
twice
mechanically
when
it
closed
.
When
the
cinders
had
caught
he
laid
the
piece
of
cardboard
against
the
wall
,
sighed
and
said
:
"
That
's
better
now
,
Mr.
O'Connor
.
"
Mr.
O'Connor
,
a
grey-haired
young
man
,
whose
face
was
disfigured
by
many
blotches
and
pimples
,
had
just
brought
the
tobacco
for
a
cigarette
into
a
shapely
cylinder
but
when
spoken
to
he
undid
his
handiwork
meditatively
.
Then
he
began
to
roll
the
tobacco
again
meditatively
and
after
a
moment
's
thought
decided
to
lick
the
paper
.
"
Did
Mr.
Tierney
say
when
he
'd
be
back
?
"
he
asked
in
a
sky
falsetto
.
