Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 5
—Blasphemy!
—Weneversoldourfaith!
—NoIrishwomaneverdidit!
—Wewantnoamateuratheists.
—Wewantnobuddingbuddhists.
Asuddenswifthissfellfromthewindowsabovehimandheknewthattheelectriclampshadbeenswitchedoninthereader’sroom.Heturnedintothepillaredhall,nowcalmlylit,wentupthestaircaseandpassedinthroughtheclickingturnstile.
Cranlywassittingovernearthedictionaries.Athickbook,openedatthefrontispiece,laybeforehimonthewoodenrest.Heleanedbackinhischair,inclininghisearlikethatofaconfessortothefaceofthemedicalstudentwhowasreadingtohimaproblemfromthechesspageofajournal.StephensatdownathisrightandthepriestattheothersideofthetableclosedhiscopyofTHETABLETwithanangrysnapandstoodup.
Cranlygazedafterhimblandlyandvaguely.Themedicalstudentwentoninasoftervoice:
—Pawntoking’sfourth.
—Wehadbettergo,Dixon,saidStepheninwarning.Hehasgonetocomplain.
Dixonfoldedthejournalandrosewithdignity,saying:
—Ourmenretiredingoodorder.
—Withgunsandcattle,addedStephen,pointingtothetitlepageofCranly’sbookonwhichwasprintedDISEASESOFTHEOX.
