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- Авторы
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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Портрет художника в юности
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- Стр. 152/241
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--
Buy
them
lovely
ones
,
will
you
,
sir
?
Only
a
penny
.
--
Did
you
hear
what
I
said
?
asked
Stephen
,
bending
towards
her
.
I
told
you
I
had
no
money
.
I
tell
you
again
now
.
--
Well
,
sure
,
you
will
some
day
,
sir
,
please
God
,
the
girl
answered
after
an
instant
.
--
Possibly
,
said
Stephen
,
but
I
do
n't
think
it
likely
.
--
He
left
her
quickly
,
fearing
that
her
intimacy
might
turn
to
jibing
and
wishing
to
be
out
of
the
way
before
she
offered
her
ware
to
another
,
a
tourist
from
England
or
a
student
of
Trinity
.
Grafton
Street
,
along
which
he
walked
,
prolonged
that
moment
of
discouraged
poverty
.
In
the
roadway
at
the
head
of
the
street
a
slab
was
set
to
the
memory
of
Wolfe
Tone
and
he
remembered
having
been
present
with
his
father
at
its
laying
.
He
remembered
with
bitterness
that
scene
of
tawdry
tribute
.
There
were
four
French
delegates
in
a
brake
and
one
,
a
plump
smiling
young
man
,
held
,
wedged
on
a
stick
,
a
card
on
which
were
printed
the
words
:
VIVE
L'IRLANDE
!
But
the
trees
in
Stephen
's
Green
were
fragrant
of
rain
and
the
rain-sodden
earth
gave
forth
its
mortal
odour
,
a
faint
incense
rising
upward
through
the
mould
from
many
hearts
.
The
soul
of
the
gallant
venal
city
which
his
elders
had
told
him
of
had
shrunk
with
time
to
a
faint
mortal
odour
rising
from
the
earth
and
he
knew
that
in
a
moment
when
he
entered
the
sombre
college
he
would
be
conscious
of
a
corruption
other
than
that
of
Buck
Egan
and
Burnchapel
Whaley
.
It
was
too
late
to
go
upstairs
to
the
French
class
.
He
crossed
the
hall
and
took
the
corridor
to
the
left
which
led
to
the
physics
theatre
.
The
corridor
was
dark
and
silent
but
not
unwatchful
.
Why
did
he
feel
that
it
was
not
unwatchful
?
Was
it
because
he
had
heard
that
in
Buck
Whaley
's
time
there
was
a
secret
staircase
there
?
Or
was
the
jesuit
house
extra-territorial
and
was
he
walking
among
aliens
?
The
Ireland
of
Tone
and
of
Parnell
seemed
to
have
receded
in
space
.
He
opened
the
door
of
the
theatre
and
halted
in
the
chilly
grey
light
that
struggled
through
the
dusty
windows
.
A
figure
was
crouching
before
the
large
grate
and
by
its
leanness
and
greyness
he
knew
that
it
was
the
dean
of
studies
lighting
the
fire
.
Stephen
closed
the
door
quietly
and
approached
the
fireplace
.
