Портрет художника в юности

Chapter 5

           

           Thelanebehindtheterracewaswaterloggedandashewentdownitslowly,choosinghisstepsamidheapsofwetrubbish,heheardamadnunscreechinginthenuns’madhousebeyondthewall.

           Jesus!OJesus!Jesus!

           Heshookthesoundoutofhisearsbyanangrytossofhisheadandhurriedon,stumblingthroughthemoulderingoffal,hisheartalreadybittenbyanacheofloathingandbitterness.Hisfather’swhistle,hismother’smutterings,thescreechofanunseenmaniacweretohimnowsomanyvoicesoffendingandthreateningtohumbletheprideofhisyouth.Hedrovetheirechoesevenoutofhisheartwithanexecration;but,ashewalkeddowntheavenueandfeltthegreymorninglightfallingabouthimthroughthedrippingtreesandsmeltthestrangewildsmellofthewetleavesandbark,hissoulwasloosedofhermiseries.

           Therain-ladentreesoftheavenueevokedinhim,asalways,memoriesofthegirlsandwomenintheplaysofGerhartHauptmann;andthememoryoftheirpalesorrowsandthefragrancefallingfromthewetbranchesmingledinamoodofquietjoy.

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