Портрет художника в юности
Chapter 1
MrCaseyraisedhisclenchedfistandbroughtitdownonthetablewithacrash.
—Verywellthen,heshoutedhoarsely,ifitcomestothat,noGodforIreland!
—John!John!criedMrDedalus,seizinghisguestbythecoatsleeve.
Dantestaredacrossthetable,hercheeksshaking.MrCaseystruggledupfromhischairandbentacrossthetabletowardsher,scrapingtheairfrombeforehiseyeswithonehandasthoughheweretearingasideacobweb.
—NoGodforIreland!hecried.WehavehadtoomuchGodInIreland.AwaywithGod!
—Blasphemer!Devil!screamedDante,startingtoherfeetandalmostspittinginhisface.
UncleCharlesandMrDedaluspulledMrCaseybackintohischairagain,talkingtohimfrombothsidesreasonably.Hestaredbeforehimoutofhisdarkflamingeyes,repeating:
—AwaywithGod,Isay!
Danteshovedherchairviolentlyasideandleftthetable,upsettinghernapkin-ringwhichrolledslowlyalongthecarpetandcametorestagainstthefootofaneasy-chair.MrsDedalusrosequicklyandfollowedhertowardsthedoor.AtthedoorDanteturnedroundviolentlyandshouteddowntheroom,hercheeksflushedandquiveringwithrage:
—Deviloutofhell!Wewon!Wecrushedhimtodeath!Fiend!
Thedoorslammedbehindher.
