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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Портрет художника в юности
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- Стр. 107/241
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He
went
from
country
to
country
in
the
east
,
from
Africa
to
India
,
from
India
to
Japan
,
baptizing
the
people
.
He
is
said
to
have
baptized
as
many
as
ten
thousand
idolaters
in
one
month
.
It
is
said
that
his
right
arm
had
grown
powerless
from
having
been
raised
so
often
over
the
heads
of
those
whom
he
baptized
.
He
wished
then
to
go
to
China
to
win
still
more
souls
for
God
but
he
died
of
fever
on
the
island
of
Sancian
.
A
great
saint
,
saint
Francis
Xavier
!
A
great
soldier
of
God
!
The
rector
paused
and
then
,
shaking
his
clasped
hands
before
him
,
went
on
:
--
He
had
the
faith
in
him
that
moves
mountains
.
Ten
thousand
souls
won
for
God
in
a
single
month
!
That
is
a
true
conqueror
,
true
to
the
motto
of
our
order
:
AD
MAJOREM
DEI
GLORIAM
!
A
saint
who
has
great
power
in
heaven
,
remember
:
power
to
intercede
for
us
in
our
grief
;
power
to
obtain
whatever
we
pray
for
if
it
be
for
the
good
of
our
souls
;
power
above
all
to
obtain
for
us
the
grace
to
repent
if
we
be
in
sin
.
A
great
saint
,
saint
Francis
Xavier
!
A
great
fisher
of
souls
!
He
ceased
to
shake
his
clasped
hands
and
,
resting
them
against
his
forehead
,
looked
right
and
left
of
them
keenly
at
his
listeners
out
of
his
dark
stern
eyes
.
In
the
silence
their
dark
fire
kindled
the
dusk
into
a
tawny
glow
.
Stephen
's
heart
had
withered
up
like
a
flower
of
the
desert
that
feels
the
simoom
coming
from
afar
.
*
*
*
--
REMEMBER
ONLY
THY
LAST
THINGS
AND
THOU
SHALT
NOT
SIN
FOR
EVER
--
words
taken
,
my
dear
little
brothers
in
Christ
,
from
the
book
of
Ecclesiastes
,
seventh
chapter
,
fortieth
verse
.
In
the
name
of
the
Father
and
of
the
Son
and
of
the
Holy
Ghost
.
Amen
.
Stephen
sat
in
the
front
bench
of
the
chapel
.
Father
Arnall
sat
at
a
table
to
the
left
of
the
altar
.
He
wore
about
his
shoulders
a
heavy
cloak
;
his
pale
face
was
drawn
and
his
voice
broken
with
rheum
.
The
figure
of
his
old
master
,
so
strangely
rearisen
,
brought
back
to
Stephen
's
mind
his
life
at
Clongowes
:
the
wide
playgrounds
,
swarming
with
boys
;
the
square
ditch
;
the
little
cemetery
off
the
main
avenue
of
limes
where
he
had
dreamed
of
being
buried
;
the
firelight
on
the
wall
of
the
infirmary
where
he
lay
sick
;
the
sorrowful
face
of
Brother
Michael
.
His
soul
,
as
these
memories
came
back
to
him
,
became
again
a
child
's
soul
.
--
We
are
assembled
here
today
,
my
dear
little
brothers
in
Christ
,
for
one
brief
moment
far
away
from
the
busy
bustle
of
the
outer
world
to
celebrate
and
to
honour
one
of
the
greatest
of
saints
,
the
apostle
of
the
Indies
,
the
patron
saint
also
of
your
college
,
saint
Francis
Xavier
.
Year
after
year
,
for
much
longer
than
any
of
you
,
my
dear
little
boys
,
can
remember
or
than
I
can
remember
,
the
boys
of
this
college
have
met
in
this
very
chapel
to
make
their
annual
retreat
before
the
feast
day
of
their
patron
saint
.
Time
has
gone
on
and
brought
with
it
its
changes
.
Even
in
the
last
few
years
what
changes
can
most
of
you
not
remember
?
Many
of
the
boys
who
sat
in
those
front
benches
a
few
years
ago
are
perhaps
now
in
distant
lands
,
in
the
burning
tropics
,
or
immersed
in
professional
duties
or
in
seminaries
,
or
voyaging
over
the
vast
expanse
of
the
deep
or
,
it
may
be
,
already
called
by
the
great
God
to
another
life
and
to
the
rendering
up
of
their
stewardship
.
And
still
as
the
years
roll
by
,
bringing
with
them
changes
for
good
and
bad
,
the
memory
of
the
great
saint
is
honoured
by
the
boys
of
this
college
who
make
every
year
their
annual
retreat
on
the
days
preceding
the
feast
day
set
apart
by
our
Holy
Mother
the
Church
to
transmit
to
all
the
ages
the
name
and
fame
of
one
of
the
greatest
sons
of
catholic
Spain
.
