Портрет художника в юности

           Perhapsthatfirsthastyconfessionwrungfromhimbythefearofhellhadnotbeengood?Perhaps,concernedonlyforhisimminentdoom,hehadnothadsinceresorrowforhissin?Butthesurestsignthathisconfessionhadbeengoodandthathehadhadsinceresorrowforhissinwas,heknew,theamendmentofhislife.

           —Ihaveamendedmylife,haveInot?heaskedhimself

           Thedirectorstoodintheembrasureofthewindow,hisbacktothelight,leaninganelbowonthebrowncrossblind,and,ashespokeandsmiled,slowlydanglingandloopingthecordoftheotherblind,Stephenstoodbeforehim,followingforamomentwithhiseyesthewaningofthelongsummerdaylightabovetheroofsortheslowdeftmovementsofthepriestlyfingers.Thepriest’sfacewasintotalshadow,butthewaningdaylightfrombehindhimtouchedthedeeplygroovedtemplesandthecurvesoftheskull.

           Stephenfollowedalsowithhisearstheaccentsandintervalsofthepriest’svoiceashespokegravelyandcordiallyofindifferentthemes,thevacationwhichhadjustended,thecollegesoftheorderabroad,thetransferenceofmasters.ThegraveandcordialvoicewentoneasilywithitstaleandinthepausesStephenfeltboundtosetitonagainwithrespectfulquestions.Heknewthatthetalewasapreludeandhismindwaitedforthesequel.