Портрет художника в юности

Chapter 5

           

           Lynchsmotehimselfsonorouslyonthechestandsaid:

           —Whohasanythingtosayaboutmygirth?

           Cranlytookhimatthewordandthetwobegantotussle.Whentheirfaceshadflushedwiththestruggletheydrewapart,panting.StephenbentdowntowardsDavinwho,intentonthegame,hadpaidnoheedtothetalkoftheothers.

           —Andhowismylittletamegoose?heasked.Didhesign,too?

           Davidnoddedandsaid:

           —Andyou,Stevie?

           Stephenshookhishead.

           —You’reaterribleman,Stevie,saidDavin,takingtheshortpipefromhismouth,alwaysalone.

           —Nowthatyouhavesignedthepetitionforuniversalpeace,saidStephen,IsupposeyouwillburnthatlittlecopybookIsawinyourroom.

           AsDavindidnotanswer,Stephenbegantoquote:

           —Longpace,fianna!Rightincline,fianna!Fianna,bynumbers,salute,one,two!

           —That’sadifferentquestion,saidDavin.I’manIrishnationalist,firstandforemost.Butthat’syouallout.You’reabornsneerer,Stevie.

           —Whenyoumakethenextrebellionwithhurleysticks,saidStephen,andwanttheindispensableinformer,tellme.Icanfindyouafewinthiscollege.

           —Ican’tunderstandyou,saidDavin.OnetimeIhearyoutalkagainstEnglishliterature.NowyoutalkagainsttheIrishinformers.

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