Портрет художника в юности
Chapter 1
—Hoho!hecried.Whoisthisboy?Whyisheonhisknees?Whatisyourname,boy?
—Fleming,sir.
—Hoho,Fleming!Anidlerofcourse.Icanseeitinyoureye.Whyisheonhisknees,FatherArnall?
—HewroteabadLatintheme,FatherArnallsaid,andhemissedallthequestionsingrammar.
—Ofcoursehedid!criedtheprefectofstudies,ofcoursehedid!Abornidler!Icanseeitinthecornerofhiseye.
Hebangedhispandybatdownonthedeskandcried:
—Up,Fleming!Up,myboy!
Flemingstoodupslowly.
—Holdout!criedtheprefectofstudies.
Flemingheldouthishand.Thepandybatcamedownonitwithaloudsmackingsound:one,two,three,four,five,six.
—Otherhand!
Thepandybatcamedownagaininsixloudquicksmacks.
—Kneeldown!criedtheprefectofstudies.
Flemingkneltdown,squeezinghishandsunderhisarmpits,hisfacecontortedwithpain;butStephenknewhowhardhishandswerebecauseFlemingwasalwaysrubbingrosinintothem.Butperhapshewasingreatpainforthenoiseofthepandybatwasterrible.Stephen’sheartwasbeatingandfluttering.
—Atyourwork,allofyou!shoutedtheprefectofstudies.Wewantnolazyidleloafershere,lazyidlelittleschemers.Atyourwork,Itellyou.FatherDolanwillbeintoseeyoueveryday.