-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Портрет художника в юности
-
- Стр. 79/241
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
--
No
!
Upon
my
word
I
believe
it
's
little
Bertie
Tallon
after
all
!
Stephen
at
his
post
by
the
window
heard
the
old
lady
and
the
priest
laugh
together
and
heard
the
boys
'
murmurs
of
admiration
behind
him
as
they
passed
forward
to
see
the
little
boy
who
had
to
dance
the
sunbonnet
dance
by
himself
.
A
movement
of
impatience
escaped
him
.
He
let
the
edge
of
the
blind
fall
and
,
stepping
down
from
the
bench
on
which
he
had
been
standing
,
walked
out
of
the
chapel
.
He
passed
out
of
the
schoolhouse
and
halted
under
the
shed
that
flanked
the
garden
.
From
the
theatre
opposite
came
the
muffled
noise
of
the
audience
and
sudden
brazen
clashes
of
the
soldiers
'
band
.
The
light
spread
upwards
from
the
glass
roof
making
the
theatre
seem
a
festive
ark
,
anchored
among
the
hulks
of
houses
,
her
frail
cables
of
lanterns
looping
her
to
her
moorings
.
A
side
door
of
the
theatre
opened
suddenly
and
a
shaft
of
light
flew
across
the
grass
plots
.
A
sudden
burst
of
music
issued
from
the
ark
,
the
prelude
of
a
waltz
:
and
when
the
side
door
closed
again
the
listener
could
hear
the
faint
rhythm
of
the
music
.
The
sentiment
of
the
opening
bars
,
their
languor
and
supple
movement
,
evoked
the
incommunicable
emotion
which
had
been
the
cause
of
all
his
day
's
unrest
and
of
his
impatient
movement
of
a
moment
before
.
His
unrest
issued
from
him
like
a
wave
of
sound
:
and
on
the
tide
of
flowing
music
the
ark
was
journeying
,
trailing
her
cables
of
lanterns
in
her
wake
.
Then
a
noise
like
dwarf
artillery
broke
the
movement
.
It
was
the
clapping
that
greeted
the
entry
of
the
dumbbell
team
on
the
stage
.
At
the
far
end
of
the
shed
near
the
street
a
speck
of
pink
light
showed
in
the
darkness
and
as
he
walked
towards
it
he
became
aware
of
a
faint
aromatic
odour
.
Two
boys
were
standing
in
the
shelter
of
a
doorway
,
smoking
,
and
before
he
reached
them
he
had
recognised
Heron
by
his
voice
.
--
Here
comes
the
noble
Dedalus
!
cried
a
high
throaty
voice
.
Welcome
to
our
trusty
friend
!
This
welcome
ended
in
a
soft
peal
of
mirthless
laughter
as
Heron
salaamed
and
then
began
to
poke
the
ground
with
his
cane
.
--
Here
I
am
,
said
Stephen
,
halting
and
glancing
from
Heron
to
his
friend
.
The
latter
was
a
stranger
to
him
but
in
the
darkness
,
by
the
aid
of
the
glowing
cigarette
tips
,
he
could
make
out
a
pale
dandyish
face
over
which
a
smile
was
travelling
slowly
,
a
tall
overcoated
figure
and
a
hard
hat
.
Heron
did
not
trouble
himself
about
an
introduction
but
said
instead
:
