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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Портрет художника в юности
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- Стр. 151/241
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--
I
do
n't
know
if
you
know
where
that
is
--
at
a
hurling
match
between
the
Croke
's
Own
Boys
and
the
Fearless
Thurles
and
by
God
,
Stevie
,
that
was
the
hard
fight
.
My
first
cousin
,
Fonsy
Davin
,
was
stripped
to
his
buff
that
day
minding
cool
for
the
Limericks
but
he
was
up
with
the
forwards
half
the
time
and
shouting
like
mad
.
I
never
will
forget
that
day
.
One
of
the
Crokes
made
a
woeful
wipe
at
him
one
time
with
his
caman
and
I
declare
to
God
he
was
within
an
aim
's
ace
of
getting
it
at
the
side
of
his
temple
.
Oh
,
honest
to
God
,
if
the
crook
of
it
caught
him
that
time
he
was
done
for
.
--
I
am
glad
he
escaped
,
Stephen
had
said
with
a
laugh
,
but
surely
that
's
not
the
strange
thing
that
happened
you
?
--
Well
,
I
suppose
that
does
n't
interest
you
,
but
leastways
there
was
such
noise
after
the
match
that
I
missed
the
train
home
and
I
could
n't
get
any
kind
of
a
yoke
to
give
me
a
lift
for
,
as
luck
would
have
it
,
there
was
a
mass
meeting
that
same
day
over
in
Castletownroche
and
all
the
cars
in
the
country
were
there
.
So
there
was
nothing
for
it
only
to
stay
the
night
or
to
foot
it
out
.
Well
,
I
started
to
walk
and
on
I
went
and
it
was
coming
on
night
when
I
got
into
the
Ballyhoura
hills
,
that
's
better
than
ten
miles
from
Kilmallock
and
there
's
a
long
lonely
road
after
that
.
You
would
n't
see
the
sign
of
a
christian
house
along
the
road
or
hear
a
sound
.
It
was
pitch
dark
almost
.
Once
or
twice
I
stopped
by
the
way
under
a
bush
to
redden
my
pipe
and
only
for
the
dew
was
thick
I
'd
have
stretched
out
there
and
slept
.
At
last
,
after
a
bend
of
the
road
,
I
spied
a
little
cottage
with
a
light
in
the
window
.
I
went
up
and
knocked
at
the
door
.
A
voice
asked
who
was
there
and
I
answered
I
was
over
at
the
match
in
Buttevant
and
was
walking
back
and
that
I
'd
be
thankful
for
a
glass
of
water
.
After
a
while
a
young
woman
opened
the
door
and
brought
me
out
a
big
mug
of
milk
.
She
was
half
undressed
as
if
she
was
going
to
bed
when
I
knocked
and
she
had
her
hair
hanging
and
I
thought
by
her
figure
and
by
something
in
the
look
of
her
eyes
that
she
must
be
carrying
a
child
.
She
kept
me
in
talk
a
long
while
at
the
door
,
and
I
thought
it
strange
because
her
breast
and
her
shoulders
were
bare
.
She
asked
me
was
I
tired
and
would
I
like
to
stop
the
night
there
.
She
said
she
was
all
alone
in
the
house
and
that
her
husband
had
gone
that
morning
to
Queenstown
with
his
sister
to
see
her
off
.
And
all
the
time
she
was
talking
,
Stevie
,
she
had
her
eyes
fixed
on
my
face
and
she
stood
so
close
to
me
I
could
hear
her
breathing
.
When
I
handed
her
back
the
mug
at
last
she
took
my
hand
to
draw
me
in
over
the
threshold
and
said
:
'
COME
IN
AND
STAY
THE
NIGHT
HERE
.
YOU
'VE
NO
CALL
TO
BE
FRIGHTENED
.
THERE
'S
NO
ONE
IN
IT
BUT
OURSELVES
.
'
I
did
n't
go
in
,
Stevie
.
I
thanked
her
and
went
on
my
way
again
,
all
in
a
fever
.
At
the
first
bend
of
the
road
I
looked
back
and
she
was
standing
at
the
door
.
The
last
words
of
Davin
's
story
sang
in
his
memory
and
the
figure
of
the
woman
in
the
story
stood
forth
reflected
in
other
figures
of
the
peasant
women
whom
he
had
seen
standing
in
the
doorways
at
Clane
as
the
college
cars
drove
by
,
as
a
type
of
her
race
and
of
his
own
,
a
bat-like
soul
waking
to
the
consciousness
of
itself
in
darkness
and
secrecy
and
loneliness
and
,
through
the
eyes
and
voice
and
gesture
of
a
woman
without
guile
,
calling
the
stranger
to
her
bed
.
A
hand
was
laid
on
his
arm
and
a
young
voice
cried
:
--
Ah
,
gentleman
,
your
own
girl
,
sir
!
The
first
handsel
today
,
gentleman
.
Buy
that
lovely
bunch
.
Will
you
,
gentleman
?
The
blue
flowers
which
she
lifted
towards
him
and
her
young
blue
eyes
seemed
to
him
at
that
instant
images
of
guilelessness
,
and
he
halted
till
the
image
had
vanished
and
he
saw
only
her
ragged
dress
and
damp
coarse
hair
and
hoydenish
face
.
--
Do
,
gentleman
!
Do
n't
forget
your
own
girl
,
sir
!
--
I
have
no
money
,
said
Stephen
.
