Портрет художника в юности
Chapter 5
Dixonturnedtowardshim,sayinginasoftvoice:
—Didanangelspeak?
Cranlyturnedalsoandsaidvehementlybutwithoutanger:
—Goggins,you’retheflamingestdirtydevilIevermet,doyouknow.
—Ihaditonmymindtosaythat,Gogginsansweredfirmly.Itdidnooneanyharm,didit?
—Wehope,Dixonsaidsuavely,thatitwasnotofthekindknowntoscienceasaPAULOPOSTFUTURUM.
—Didn’tItellyouhewasasmiler?saidTemple,turningrightandleft.Didn’tIgivehimthatname?
—Youdid.We’renotdeaf,saidthetallconsumptive.
Cranlystillfrownedatthestoutstudentbelowhim.Then,withasnortofdisgust,heshovedhimviolentlydownthesteps.
—Goawayfromhere,hesaidrudely.Goaway,youstinkpot.Andyouareastinkpot.
Gogginsskippeddownontothegravelandatoncereturnedtohisplacewithgoodhumour.TempleturnedbacktoStephenandasked:
—Doyoubelieveinthelawofheredity?
—Areyoudrunkorwhatareyouorwhatareyoutryingtosay?askedCranly,facingroundonhimwithanexpressionofwonder.
—Themostprofoundsentenceeverwritten,Templesaidwithenthusiasm,isthesentenceattheendofthezoology.Reproductionisthebeginningofdeath.