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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Портрет художника в юности
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- Стр. 179/241
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Davin
knocked
the
ashes
from
his
pipe
.
--
Too
deep
for
me
,
Stevie
,
he
said
.
But
a
man
's
country
comes
first
.
Ireland
first
,
Stevie
.
You
can
be
a
poet
or
a
mystic
after
.
--
Do
you
know
what
Ireland
is
?
asked
Stephen
with
cold
violence
.
Ireland
is
the
old
sow
that
eats
her
farrow
.
Davin
rose
from
his
box
and
went
towards
the
players
,
shaking
his
head
sadly
.
But
in
a
moment
his
sadness
left
him
and
he
was
hotly
disputing
with
Cranly
and
the
two
players
who
had
finished
their
game
.
A
match
of
four
was
arranged
,
Cranly
insisting
,
however
,
that
his
ball
should
be
used
.
He
let
it
rebound
twice
or
thrice
to
his
hand
and
struck
it
strongly
and
swiftly
towards
the
base
of
the
alley
,
exclaiming
in
answer
to
its
thud
:
--
Your
soul
!
Stephen
stood
with
Lynch
till
the
score
began
to
rise
.
Then
he
plucked
him
by
the
sleeve
to
come
away
.
Lynch
obeyed
,
saying
:
--
Let
us
eke
go
,
as
Cranly
has
it
.
Stephen
smiled
at
this
side-thrust
.
They
passed
back
through
the
garden
and
out
through
the
hall
where
the
doddering
porter
was
pinning
up
a
hall
notice
in
the
frame
.
At
the
foot
of
the
steps
they
halted
and
Stephen
took
a
packet
of
cigarettes
from
his
pocket
and
offered
it
to
his
companion
.
