Портрет художника в юности
Chapter 5
AwomanhadwaitedinthedoorwayasDavinhadpassedbyatnightand,offeringhimacupofmilk,hadallbutwooedhimtoherbed;forDavinhadthemildeyesofonewhocouldbesecret.Buthimnowoman’seyeshadwooed.
HisarmwastakeninastronggripandCranly’svoicesaid:
—Letusekego.
Theywalkedsouthwardinsilence.ThenCranlysaid:
—Thatblitheringidiot,Temple!IsweartoMoses,doyouknow,thatI’llbethedeathofthatfellowonetime.
ButhisvoicewasnolongerangryandStephenwonderedwashethinkingofhergreetingtohimundertheporch.
Theyturnedtotheleftandwalkedonasbefore.WhentheyhadgoneonsoforsometimeStephensaid:
—Cranly,Ihadanunpleasantquarrelthisevening.
—Withyourpeople?Cranlyasked.
—Withmymother.
—Aboutreligion?
—Yes,Stephenanswered.
AfterapauseCranlyasked:
—Whatageisyourmother?
—Notold,Stephensaid.Shewishesmetomakemyeasterduty.
—Andwillyou?
—Iwillnot,Stephensaid.
—Whynot?Cranlysaid.
—Iwillnotserve,answeredStephen.
—Thatremarkwasmadebefore,Cranlysaidcalmly.
—Itismadebehindnow,saidStephenhotly.