Портрет художника в юності

           Whatwithyournameandyourideas—AreyouIrishatall?

           —ComewithmenowtotheofficeofarmsandIwillshowyouthetreeofmyfamily,saidStephen.

           —Thenbeoneofus,saidDavin.Whydon’tyoulearnIrish?Whydidyoudropoutoftheleagueclassafterthefirstlesson?

           —Youknowonereasonwhy,answeredStephen.Davintosshisheadandlaughed.

           —Oh,comenow,hesaid.IsitonaccountofthatcertainyoungladyandFatherMoran?Butthat’sallinyourownmind,Stevie.Theywereonlytalkingandlaughing.

           StephenpausedandlaidafriendlyhanduponDavin’sshoulder.

           —Doyouremember,hesaid,whenwekneweachotherfirst?Thefirstmorningwemetyouaskedmetoshowyouthewaytothematriculationclass,puttingaverystrongstressonthefirstsyllable.Youremember?Thenyouusedtoaddressthejesuitsasfather,youremember?Iaskmyselfaboutyou:ISHEAINNOCENTASHISSPEECH?

           —I’masimpleperson,saidDavin.Youknowthat.WhenyoutoldmethatnightinHarcourtStreetthosethingsaboutyourprivatelife,honesttoGod,Stevie,Iwasnotabletoeatmydinner.Iwasquitebad.Iwasawakealongtimethatnight.Whydidyoutellmethosethings?

           —Thanks,saidStephen.YoumeanIamamonster.

           —No,saidDavin.ButIwishyouhadnottoldme.

           AtidebegantosurgebeneaththecalmsurfaceofStephen’sfriendliness.