Портрет художника в юности

           AndthatnightMrCaseyhadnotgonetoDublinbytrainbutacarhadcometothedoorandhehadheardhisfathersaysomethingabouttheCabinteelyroad.

           HewasforIrelandandParnellandsowashisfather:andsowasDantetooforonenightatthebandontheesplanadeshehadhitagentlemanontheheadwithherumbrellabecausehehadtakenoffhishatwhenthebandplayedGODSAVETHEQUEENattheend.

           MrDedalusgaveasnortofcontempt.

           —Ah,John,hesaid.Itistrueforthem.Weareanunfortunatepriest-riddenraceandalwayswereandalwayswillbetilltheendofthechapter.

           UncleCharlesshookhishead,saying:

           —Abadbusiness!Abadbusiness!

           MrDedalusrepeated:

           —Apriest-riddenGodforsakenrace!

           Hepointedtotheportraitofhisgrandfatheronthewalltohisright.

           —Doyouseethatoldchapupthere,John?hesaid.HewasagoodIrishmanwhentherewasnomoneyInthejob.Hewascondemnedtodeathasawhiteboy.Buthehadasayingaboutourclericalfriends,thathewouldneverletoneofthemputhistwofeetunderhismahogany.

           Dantebrokeinangrily:

           —Ifweareapriest-riddenraceweoughttobeproudofit!TheyaretheappleofGod’seye.TOUCHTHEMNOT,saysChrist,FORTHEYARETHEAPPLEOFMYEYE.

           —Andcanwenotloveourcountrythen?askedMrCasey.