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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Портрет художника в юности
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- Стр. 84/241
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But
the
class
was
not
so
soon
appeased
.
Though
nobody
spoke
to
him
of
the
affair
after
class
he
could
feel
about
him
a
vague
general
malignant
joy
.
A
few
nights
after
this
public
chiding
he
was
walking
with
a
letter
along
the
Drumcondra
Road
when
he
heard
a
voice
cry
:
--
Halt
!
He
turned
and
saw
three
boys
of
his
own
class
coming
towards
him
in
the
dusk
.
It
was
Heron
who
had
called
out
and
,
as
he
marched
forward
between
his
two
attendants
,
he
cleft
the
air
before
him
with
a
thin
cane
in
time
to
their
steps
.
Boland
,
his
friend
,
marched
beside
him
,
a
large
grin
on
his
face
,
while
Nash
came
on
a
few
steps
behind
,
blowing
from
the
pace
and
wagging
his
great
red
head
.
As
soon
as
the
boys
had
turned
into
Clonliffe
Road
together
they
began
to
speak
about
books
and
writers
,
saying
what
books
they
were
reading
and
how
many
books
there
were
in
their
fathers
'
bookcases
at
home
.
Stephen
listened
to
them
in
some
wonderment
for
Boland
was
the
dunce
and
Nash
the
idler
of
the
class
.
In
fact
,
after
some
talk
about
their
favourite
writers
,
Nash
declared
for
Captain
Marryat
who
,
he
said
,
was
the
greatest
writer
.
--
Fudge
!
said
Heron
.
Ask
Dedalus
.
Who
is
the
greatest
writer
,
Dedalus
?
Stephen
noted
the
mockery
in
the
question
and
said
:
--
Of
prose
do
you
mean
?
--
Yes
.
