Портрет художника в юности

Chapter 1

           Washenotholyenoughorwhycouldhenotcatchupontheothers?

           Thereweretwobedsintheroomandinonebedtherewasafellow:andwhentheywentinhecalledout:

           Hello!It’syoungDedalus!What’sup?

           Theskyisup,BrotherMichaelsaid.

           Hewasafellowoutofthethirdofgrammarand,whileStephenwasundressing,heaskedBrotherMichaeltobringhimaroundofbutteredtoast.

           Ah,do!hesaid.

           Butteryouup!saidBrotherMichael.You’llgetyourwalkingpapersinthemorningwhenthedoctorcomes.

           WillI?thefellowsaid.I’mnotwellyet.

           BrotherMichaelrepeated:

           You’llgetyourwalkingpapers.Itellyou.

           Hebentdowntorakethefire.Hehadalongbacklikethelongbackofatramhorse.Heshookthepokergravelyandnoddedhisheadatthefellowoutofthirdofgrammar.

           ThenBrotherMichaelwentawayandafterawhilethefellowoutofthirdofgrammarturnedintowardsthewallandfellasleep.

           Thatwastheinfirmary.Hewassickthen.Hadtheywrittenhometotellhismotherandfather?Butitwouldbequickerforoneoftheprieststogohimselftotellthem.Orhewouldwritealetterforthepriesttobring.

           DearMother,

           Iamsick.Iwanttogohome.Pleasecomeandtakemehome.Iamintheinfirmary.

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