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- Джеймс Джойс
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It
was
a
jesting
name
between
them
,
but
the
young
peasant
bore
with
it
lightly
:
--
Go
on
,
Stevie
,
I
have
a
hard
head
,
you
tell
me
.
Call
me
what
you
will
.
The
homely
version
of
his
christian
name
on
the
lips
of
his
friend
had
touched
Stephen
pleasantly
when
first
heard
for
he
was
as
formal
in
speech
with
others
as
they
were
with
him
.
Often
,
as
he
sat
in
Davin
's
rooms
in
Grantham
Street
,
wondering
at
his
friend
's
well-made
boots
that
flanked
the
wall
pair
by
pair
and
repeating
for
his
friend
's
simple
ear
the
verses
and
cadences
of
others
which
were
the
veils
of
his
own
longing
and
dejection
,
the
rude
Firbolg
mind
of
his
listener
had
drawn
his
mind
towards
it
and
flung
it
back
again
,
drawing
it
by
a
quiet
inbred
courtesy
of
attention
or
by
a
quaint
turn
of
old
English
speech
or
by
the
force
of
its
delight
in
rude
bodily
skill
--
for
Davin
had
sat
at
the
feet
of
Michael
Cusack
,
the
Gael
--
repelling
swiftly
and
suddenly
by
a
grossness
of
intelligence
or
by
a
bluntness
of
feeling
or
by
a
dull
stare
of
terror
in
the
eyes
,
the
terror
of
soul
of
a
starving
Irish
village
in
which
the
curfew
was
still
a
nightly
fear
.
Side
by
side
with
his
memory
of
the
deeds
of
prowess
of
his
uncle
Mat
Davin
,
the
athlete
,
the
young
peasant
worshipped
the
sorrowful
legend
of
Ireland
.
The
gossip
of
his
fellow-students
which
strove
to
render
the
flat
life
of
the
college
significant
at
any
cost
loved
to
think
of
him
as
a
young
fenian
.
His
nurse
had
taught
him
Irish
and
shaped
his
rude
imagination
by
the
broken
lights
of
Irish
myth
.
He
stood
towards
the
myth
upon
which
no
individual
mind
had
ever
drawn
out
a
line
of
beauty
and
to
its
unwieldy
tales
that
divided
against
themselves
as
they
moved
down
the
cycles
in
the
same
attitude
as
towards
the
Roman
catholic
religion
,
the
attitude
of
a
dull-witted
loyal
serf
.
Whatsoever
of
thought
or
of
feeling
came
to
him
from
England
or
by
way
of
English
culture
his
mind
stood
armed
against
in
obedience
to
a
password
;
and
of
the
world
that
lay
beyond
England
he
knew
only
the
foreign
legion
of
France
in
which
he
spoke
of
serving
.
Coupling
this
ambition
with
the
young
man
's
humour
Stephen
had
often
called
him
one
of
the
tame
geese
and
there
was
even
a
point
of
irritation
in
the
name
pointed
against
that
very
reluctance
of
speech
and
deed
in
his
friend
which
seemed
so
often
to
stand
between
Stephen
's
mind
,
eager
of
speculation
,
and
the
hidden
ways
of
Irish
life
.
One
night
the
young
peasant
,
his
spirit
stung
by
the
violent
or
luxurious
language
in
which
Stephen
escaped
from
the
cold
silence
of
intellectual
revolt
,
had
called
up
before
Stephen
's
mind
a
strange
vision
.
The
two
were
walking
slowly
towards
Davin
's
rooms
through
the
dark
narrow
streets
of
the
poorer
jews
.
--
A
thing
happened
to
myself
,
Stevie
,
last
autumn
,
coming
on
winter
,
and
I
never
told
it
to
a
living
soul
and
you
are
the
first
person
now
I
ever
told
it
to
.
I
disremember
if
it
was
October
or
November
.
It
was
October
because
it
was
before
I
came
up
here
to
join
the
matriculation
class
.
Stephen
had
turned
his
smiling
eyes
towards
his
friend
's
face
,
flattered
by
his
confidence
and
won
over
to
sympathy
by
the
speaker
's
simple
accent
.
--
I
was
away
all
that
day
from
my
own
place
over
in
Buttevant
.
