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.