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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Портрет художника в юности
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- Стр. 89/241
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--
No
.
No
.
At
last
after
a
fury
of
plunges
he
wrenched
himself
free
.
His
tormentors
set
off
towards
Jones
's
Road
,
laughing
and
jeering
at
him
,
while
he
,
half
blinded
with
tears
,
stumbled
on
,
clenching
his
fists
madly
and
sobbing
.
While
he
was
still
repeating
the
CONFITEOR
amid
the
indulgent
laughter
of
his
hearers
and
while
the
scenes
of
that
malignant
episode
were
still
passing
sharply
and
swiftly
before
his
mind
he
wondered
why
he
bore
no
malice
now
to
those
who
had
tormented
him
.
He
had
not
forgotten
a
whit
of
their
cowardice
and
cruelty
but
the
memory
of
it
called
forth
no
anger
from
him
.
All
the
descriptions
of
fierce
love
and
hatred
which
he
had
met
in
books
had
seemed
to
him
therefore
unreal
.
Even
that
night
as
he
stumbled
homewards
along
Jones
's
Road
he
had
felt
that
some
power
was
divesting
him
of
that
sudden-woven
anger
as
easily
as
a
fruit
is
divested
of
its
soft
ripe
peel
.
He
remained
standing
with
his
two
companions
at
the
end
of
the
shed
listening
idly
to
their
talk
or
to
the
bursts
of
applause
in
the
theatre
.
She
was
sitting
there
among
the
others
perhaps
waiting
for
him
to
appear
.
He
tried
to
recall
her
appearance
but
could
not
.
He
could
remember
only
that
she
had
worn
a
shawl
about
her
head
like
a
cowl
and
that
her
dark
eyes
had
invited
and
unnerved
him
.
He
wondered
had
he
been
in
her
thoughts
as
she
had
been
in
his
.
Then
in
the
dark
and
unseen
by
the
other
two
he
rested
the
tips
of
the
fingers
of
one
hand
upon
the
palm
of
the
other
hand
,
scarcely
touching
it
lightly
.
But
the
pressure
of
her
fingers
had
been
lighter
and
steadier
:
and
suddenly
the
memory
of
their
touch
traversed
his
brain
and
body
like
an
invisible
wave
.
A
boy
came
towards
them
,
running
along
under
the
shed
.
He
was
excited
and
breathless
.
--
O
,
Dedalus
,
he
cried
,
Doyle
is
in
a
great
bake
about
you
.
You
're
to
go
in
at
once
and
get
dressed
for
the
play
.
Hurry
up
,
you
better
.
--
He
's
coming
now
,
said
Heron
to
the
messenger
with
a
haughty
drawl
,
when
he
wants
to
.
The
boy
turned
to
Heron
and
repeated
:
--
But
Doyle
is
in
an
awful
bake
.
