Портрет художника в юности
Chapter 3
Hewillliveagoodlifeanddieagooddeath,believingandknowingthat,ifhehassacrificedmuchinthisearthlylife,itwillbegiventohimahundredfoldandathousandfoldmoreinthelifetocome,inthekingdomwithoutend—ablessing,mydearboys,whichIwishyoufrommyheart,oneandall,inthenameoftheFatherandoftheSonandoftheHolyGhost.Amen!
Ashewalkedhomewithsilentcompanions,athickfogseemedtocompasshismind.Hewaitedinstuporofmindtillitshouldliftandrevealwhatithadhidden.Heatehisdinnerwithsurlyappetiteandwhenthemealwasoverandthegrease-strewnplateslayabandonedonthetable,heroseandwenttothewindow,clearingthethickscumfromhismouthwithhistongueandlickingitfromhislips.Sohehadsunktothestateofabeastthatlickshischapsaftermeat.Thiswastheend;andafaintglimmeroffearbegantopiercethefogofhismind.Hepressedhisfaceagainstthepaneofthewindowandgazedoutintothedarkeningstreet.Formspassedthiswayandthatthroughthedulllight.Andthatwaslife.ThelettersofthenameofDublinlayheavilyuponhismind,pushingoneanothersurlilyhitherandthitherwithslowboorishinsistence.Hissoulwasfatteningandcongealingintoagrossgrease,plungingeverdeeperinitsdullfearintoasombrethreateningduskwhilethebodythatwashisstood,listlessanddishonoured,gazingoutofdarkenedeyes,helpless,perturbed,andhumanforabovinegodtostareupon.
