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Главная
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- Книги
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- Авторы
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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Портрет художника в юности
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- Стр. 46/241
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--
O
,
go
on
,
Wells
,
all
said
.
You
might
tell
us
.
We
wo
n't
let
it
out
.
Stephen
bent
forward
his
head
to
hear
.
Wells
looked
round
to
see
if
anyone
was
coming
.
Then
he
said
secretly
:
--
You
know
the
altar
wine
they
keep
in
the
press
in
the
sacristy
?
--
Yes
.
--
Well
,
they
drank
that
and
it
was
found
out
who
did
it
by
the
smell
.
And
that
's
why
they
ran
away
,
if
you
want
to
know
.
And
the
fellow
who
had
spoken
first
said
:
--
Yes
,
that
's
what
I
heard
too
from
the
fellow
in
the
higher
line
.
The
fellows
all
were
silent
.
Stephen
stood
among
them
,
afraid
to
speak
,
listening
.
A
faint
sickness
of
awe
made
him
feel
weak
.
How
could
they
have
done
that
?
He
thought
of
the
dark
silent
sacristy
.
There
were
dark
wooden
presses
there
where
the
crimped
surplices
lay
quietly
folded
.
It
was
not
the
chapel
but
still
you
had
to
speak
under
your
breath
.
It
was
a
holy
place
.
He
remembered
the
summer
evening
he
had
been
there
to
be
dressed
as
boatbearer
,
the
evening
of
the
Procession
to
the
little
altar
in
the
wood
.
A
strange
and
holy
place
.
The
boy
that
held
the
censer
had
swung
it
lifted
by
the
middle
chain
to
keep
the
coals
lighting
.
That
was
called
charcoal
:
and
it
had
burned
quietly
as
the
fellow
had
swung
it
gently
and
had
given
off
a
weak
sour
smell
.
And
then
when
all
were
vested
he
had
stood
holding
out
the
boat
to
the
rector
and
the
rector
had
put
a
spoonful
of
incense
in
it
and
it
had
hissed
on
the
red
coals
.
The
fellows
were
talking
together
in
little
groups
here
and
there
on
the
playground
.
