-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Портрет художника в юности
-
- Стр. 102/241
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
He
returned
to
his
wanderings
.
The
veiled
autumnal
evenings
led
him
from
street
to
street
as
they
had
led
him
years
before
along
the
quiet
avenues
of
Blackrock
.
But
no
vision
of
trim
front
gardens
or
of
kindly
lights
in
the
windows
poured
a
tender
influence
upon
him
now
.
Only
at
times
,
in
the
pauses
of
his
desire
,
when
the
luxury
that
was
wasting
him
gave
room
to
a
softer
languor
,
the
image
of
Mercedes
traversed
the
background
of
his
memory
.
He
saw
again
the
small
white
house
and
the
garden
of
rose-bushes
on
the
road
that
led
to
the
mountains
and
he
remembered
the
sadly
proud
gesture
of
refusal
which
he
was
to
make
there
,
standing
with
her
in
the
moonlit
garden
after
years
of
estrangement
and
adventure
.
At
those
moments
the
soft
speeches
of
Claude
Melnotte
rose
to
his
lips
and
eased
his
unrest
.
A
tender
premonition
touched
him
of
the
tryst
he
had
then
looked
forward
to
and
,
in
spite
of
the
horrible
reality
which
lay
between
his
hope
of
then
and
now
,
of
the
holy
encounter
he
had
then
imagined
at
which
weakness
and
timidity
and
inexperience
were
to
fall
from
him
.
Such
moments
passed
and
the
wasting
fires
of
lust
sprang
up
again
.
The
verses
passed
from
his
lips
and
the
inarticulate
cries
and
the
unspoken
brutal
words
rushed
forth
from
his
brain
to
force
a
passage
.
His
blood
was
in
revolt
.
He
wandered
up
and
down
the
dark
slimy
streets
peering
into
the
gloom
of
lanes
and
doorways
,
listening
eagerly
for
any
sound
.
He
moaned
to
himself
like
some
baffled
prowling
beast
.
He
wanted
to
sin
with
another
of
his
kind
,
to
force
another
being
to
sin
with
him
and
to
exult
with
her
in
sin
.
He
felt
some
dark
presence
moving
irresistibly
upon
him
from
the
darkness
,
a
presence
subtle
and
murmurous
as
a
flood
filling
him
wholly
with
itself
.
Its
murmur
besieged
his
ears
like
the
murmur
of
some
multitude
in
sleep
;
its
subtle
streams
penetrated
his
being
.
His
hands
clenched
convulsively
and
his
teeth
set
together
as
he
suffered
the
agony
of
its
penetration
.
He
stretched
out
his
arms
in
the
street
to
hold
fast
the
frail
swooning
form
that
eluded
him
and
incited
him
:
and
the
cry
that
he
had
strangled
for
so
long
in
his
throat
issued
from
his
lips
.
It
broke
from
him
like
a
wail
of
despair
from
a
hell
of
sufferers
and
died
in
a
wail
of
furious
entreaty
,
a
cry
for
an
iniquitous
abandonment
,
a
cry
which
was
but
the
echo
of
an
obscene
scrawl
which
he
had
read
on
the
oozing
wall
of
a
urinal
.
He
had
wandered
into
a
maze
of
narrow
and
dirty
streets
.
From
the
foul
laneways
he
heard
bursts
of
hoarse
riot
and
wrangling
and
the
drawling
of
drunken
singers
.
He
walked
onward
,
dismayed
,
wondering
whether
he
had
strayed
into
the
quarter
of
the
Jews
.
Women
and
girls
dressed
in
long
vivid
gowns
traversed
the
street
from
house
to
house
.
They
were
leisurely
and
perfumed
.
A
trembling
seized
him
and
his
eyes
grew
dim
.
The
yellow
gas-flames
arose
before
his
troubled
vision
against
the
vapoury
sky
,
burning
as
if
before
an
altar
.
Before
the
doors
and
in
the
lighted
halls
groups
were
gathered
arrayed
as
for
some
rite
.
He
was
in
another
world
:
he
had
awakened
from
a
slumber
of
centuries
.
He
stood
still
in
the
middle
of
the
roadway
,
his
heart
clamouring
against
his
bosom
in
a
tumult
.
A
young
woman
dressed
in
a
long
pink
gown
laid
her
hand
on
his
arm
to
detain
him
and
gazed
into
his
face
.
She
said
gaily
:
--
Good
night
,
Willie
dear
!
Her
room
was
warm
and
lightsome
.
A
huge
doll
sat
with
her
legs
apart
in
the
copious
easy-chair
beside
the
bed
.
He
tried
to
bid
his
tongue
speak
that
he
might
seem
at
ease
,
watching
her
as
she
undid
her
gown
,
noting
the
proud
conscious
movements
of
her
perfumed
head
As
he
stood
silent
in
the
middle
of
the
room
she
came
over
to
him
and
embraced
him
gaily
and
gravely
.
Her
round
arms
held
him
firmly
to
her
and
he
,
seeing
her
face
lifted
to
him
in
serious
calm
and
feeling
the
warm
calm
rise
and
fall
of
her
breast
,
all
but
burst
into
hysterical
weeping
.
Tears
of
joy
and
relief
shone
in
his
delighted
eyes
and
his
lips
parted
though
they
would
not
speak
.
She
passed
her
tinkling
hand
through
his
hair
,
calling
him
a
little
rascal
.
