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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Портрет художника в юности
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- Стр. 174/241
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--
A
flaming
flaring
bloody
idiot
!
They
crossed
the
weedy
garden
together
.
The
president
,
wrapped
in
a
heavy
loose
cloak
,
was
coming
towards
them
along
one
of
the
walks
,
reading
his
office
.
At
the
end
of
the
walk
he
halted
before
turning
and
raised
his
eyes
.
The
students
saluted
,
Temple
fumbling
as
before
at
the
peak
of
his
cap
.
They
walked
forward
in
silence
.
As
they
neared
the
alley
Stephen
could
hear
the
thuds
of
the
players
'
hands
and
the
wet
smacks
of
the
ball
and
Davin
's
voice
crying
out
excitedly
at
each
stroke
.
The
three
students
halted
round
the
box
on
which
Davin
sat
to
follow
the
game
.
Temple
,
after
a
few
moments
,
sidled
across
to
Stephen
and
said
:
--
Excuse
me
,
I
wanted
to
ask
you
,
do
you
believe
that
Jean-Jacques
Rousseau
was
a
sincere
man
?
Stephen
laughed
outright
.
Cranly
,
picking
up
the
broken
stave
of
a
cask
from
the
grass
at
his
feet
,
turned
swiftly
and
said
sternly
:
--
Temple
,
I
declare
to
the
living
God
if
you
say
another
word
,
do
you
know
,
to
anybody
on
any
subject
,
I
'll
kill
you
SUPER
SPOTTUM
.
--
He
was
like
you
,
I
fancy
,
said
Stephen
,
an
emotional
man
.
--
Blast
him
,
curse
him
!
said
Cranly
broadly
.
Do
n't
talk
to
him
at
all
.
Sure
,
you
might
as
well
be
talking
,
do
you
know
,
to
a
flaming
chamber-pot
as
talking
to
Temple
.
Go
home
,
Temple
.
For
God
's
sake
,
go
home
.
--
I
do
n't
care
a
damn
about
you
,
Cranly
,
answered
Temple
,
moving
out
of
reach
of
the
uplifted
stave
and
pointing
at
Stephen
.
He
's
the
only
man
I
see
in
this
institution
that
has
an
individual
mind
.
--
Institution
!
Individual
!
cried
Cranly
.
Go
home
,
blast
you
,
for
you
're
a
hopeless
bloody
man
.
