Дублинцы
The Dead
“AndthenwhenitcametothetimeformetoleaveGalwayandcomeuptotheconventhewasmuchworseandIwouldn’tbeletseehimsoIwrotehimalettersayingIwasgoinguptoDublinandwouldbebackinthesummer,andhopinghewouldbebetterthen.”
Shepausedforamomenttogethervoiceundercontrol,andthenwenton:
“ThenthenightbeforeIleft,Iwasinmygrandmother’shouseinNuns’Island,packingup,andIheardgravelthrownupagainstthewindow.ThewindowwassowetIcouldn’tsee,soIrandownstairsasIwasandslippedoutthebackintothegardenandtherewasthepoorfellowattheendofthegarden,shivering.”
“Anddidyounottellhimtogoback?”askedGabriel.
“Iimploredofhimtogohomeatonceandtoldhimhewouldgethisdeathintherain.Buthesaidhedidnotwanttolive.Icanseehiseyesaswellaswell!Hewasstandingattheendofthewallwheretherewasatree.”
“Anddidhegohome?”askedGabriel.
“Yes,hewenthome.AndwhenIwasonlyaweekintheconventhediedandhewasburiedinOughterard,wherehispeoplecamefrom.O,thedayIheardthat,thathewasdead!”
Shestopped,chokingwithsobs,and,overcomebyemotion,flungherselffacedownwardonthebed,sobbinginthequilt.Gabrielheldherhandforamomentlonger,irresolutely,andthen,shyofintrudingonhergrief,letitfallgentlyandwalkedquietlytothewindow.
