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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Портрет художника в юности
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--
You
are
a
great
stranger
now
.
--
Yes
.
I
was
born
to
be
a
monk
.
--
I
am
afraid
you
are
a
heretic
.
--
Are
you
much
afraid
?
For
answer
she
had
danced
away
from
him
along
the
chain
of
hands
,
dancing
lightly
and
discreetly
,
giving
herself
to
none
.
The
white
spray
nodded
to
her
dancing
and
when
she
was
in
shadow
the
glow
was
deeper
on
her
cheek
.
A
monk
!
His
own
image
started
forth
a
profaner
of
the
cloister
,
a
heretic
franciscan
,
willing
and
willing
not
to
serve
,
spinning
like
Gherardino
da
Borgo
San
Donnino
,
a
lithe
web
of
sophistry
and
whispering
in
her
ear
.
No
,
it
was
not
his
image
.
It
was
like
the
image
of
the
young
priest
in
whose
company
he
had
seen
her
last
,
looking
at
him
out
of
dove
's
eyes
,
toying
with
the
pages
of
her
Irish
phrase-book
.
--
Yes
,
yes
,
the
ladies
are
coming
round
to
us
.
I
can
see
it
every
day
.
The
ladies
are
with
us
.
The
best
helpers
the
language
has
.
--
And
the
church
,
Father
Moran
?
--
The
church
too
.
Coming
round
too
.
The
work
is
going
ahead
there
too
.
Do
n't
fret
about
the
church
.
