Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 2
Itbrokefromhimlikeawailofdespairfromahellofsufferersanddiedinawailoffuriousentreaty,acryforaniniquitousabandonment,acrywhichwasbuttheechoofanobscenescrawlwhichhehadreadontheoozingwallofaurinal.
Hehadwanderedintoamazeofnarrowanddirtystreets.Fromthefoullanewaysheheardburstsofhoarseriotandwranglingandthedrawlingofdrunkensingers.Hewalkedonward,dismayed,wonderingwhetherhehadstrayedintothequarteroftheJews.Womenandgirlsdressedinlongvividgownstraversedthestreetfromhousetohouse.Theywereleisurelyandperfumed.Atremblingseizedhimandhiseyesgrewdim.Theyellowgas-flamesarosebeforehistroubledvisionagainstthevapourysky,burningasifbeforeanaltar.Beforethedoorsandinthelightedhallsgroupsweregatheredarrayedasforsomerite.Hewasinanotherworld:hehadawakenedfromaslumberofcenturies.
Hestoodstillinthemiddleoftheroadway,hisheartclamouringagainsthisbosominatumult.Ayoungwomandressedinalongpinkgownlaidherhandonhisarmtodetainhimandgazedintohisface.Shesaidgaily:
—Goodnight,Williedear!
Herroomwaswarmandlightsome.Ahugedollsatwithherlegsapartinthecopiouseasy-chairbesidethebed.Hetriedtobidhistonguespeakthathemightseematease,watchingherassheundidhergown,notingtheproudconsciousmovementsofherperfumedhead
