Портрет художника в юности

Chapter 1

           OJohnny!

           Hetwistedhisfeaturesintoagrimaceofheavybestialityandmadealappingnoisewithhislips.

           Really,Simon,youshouldnotspeakthatwaybeforeStephen.It’snotright.

           O,he’llrememberallthiswhenhegrowsup,saidDantehotlythelanguageheheardagainstGodandreligionandpriestsinhisownhome.

           Lethimremembertoo,criedMrCaseytoherfromacrossthetable,thelanguagewithwhichthepriestsandthepriests’pawnsbrokeParnell’sheartandhoundedhimintohisgrave.Lethimrememberthattoowhenhegrowsup.

           Sonsofbitches!criedMrDedalus.Whenhewasdowntheyturnedonhimtobetrayhimandrendhimlikeratsinasewer.Low-liveddogs!Andtheylookit!ByChrist,theylookit!

           Theybehavedrightly,criedDante.Theyobeyedtheirbishopsandtheirpriests.Honourtothem!

           Well,itisperfectlydreadfultosaythatnotevenforonedayintheyear,saidMrsDedalus,canwebefreefromthesedreadfuldisputes!

           UncleCharlesraisedhishandsmildlyandsaid:

           Comenow,comenow,comenow!Canwenothaveouropinionswhatevertheyarewithoutthisbadtemperandthisbadlanguage?Itistoobadsurely.

           MrsDedalusspoketoDanteinalowvoicebutDantesaidloudly:

           Iwillnotsaynothing.Iwilldefendmychurchandmyreligionwhenitisinsultedandspitonbyrenegadecatholics.

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