Портрет художника в юности

           Bythetimetheyhadcrossedthequadranglehisrestlessnesshadrisentofever.Hewonderedhowhisfather,whomheknewforashrewdsuspiciousman,couldbedupedbytheservilemannersoftheporter;andthelivelysouthernspeechwhichhadentertainedhimallthemorningnowirritatedhisears.

           TheypassedintotheanatomytheatrewhereMrDedalus,theporteraidinghim,searchedthedesksforhisinitials.Stephenremainedinthebackground,depressedmorethaneverbythedarknessandsilenceofthetheatreandbytheairitworeofjadedandformalstudy.OnthedeskhereadthewordFOETUScutseveraltimesinthedarkstainedwood.Thesuddenlegendstartledhisblood:heseemedtofeeltheabsentstudentsofthecollegeabouthimandtoshrinkfromtheircompany.Avisionoftheirlife,whichhisfather’swordshadbeenpowerlesstoevoke,sprangupbeforehimoutofthewordcutinthedesk.Abroad-shoulderedstudentwithamoustachewascuttingintheletterswithajack-knife,seriously.Otherstudentsstoodorsatnearhimlaughingathishandiwork.Onejoggedhiselbow.Thebigstudentturnedonhim,frowning.Hewasdressedinloosegreyclothesandhadtanboots.

           Stephen’snamewascalled.Hehurrieddownthestepsofthetheatresoastobeasfarawayfromthevisionashecouldbeand,peeringcloselyathisfather’sinitials,hidhisflushedface.

           Butthewordandthevisioncaperedbeforehiseyesashewalkedbackacrossthequadrangleandtowardsthecollegegate.