Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 5
HetouchedStephentimidlyattheelbowandsaideagerly:
—Doyoufeelhowprofoundthatisbecauseyouareapoet?
—Cranlypointedhislongforefinger.
—Lookathim!hesaidwithscorntotheothers.LookatIreland’shope!
Theylaughedathiswordsandgesture.Templeturnedonhimbravely,saying:
—Cranly,you’realwayssneeringatme.Icanseethat.ButIamasgoodasyouanyday.DoyouknowwhatIthinkaboutyounowascomparedwithmyself?
—Mydearman,saidCranlyurbanely,youareincapable,doyouknow,absolutelyincapableofthinking.
—Butdoyouknow,Templewenton,whatIthinkofyouandofmyselfcomparedtogether?
—Outwithit,Temple!thestoutstudentcriedfromthesteps.Getitoutinbits!
Templeturnedrightandleft,makingsuddenfeeblegesturesashespoke.
—I’maballocks,hesaid,shakinghisheadindespair.IamandIknowIam.AndIadmititthatIam.
Dixonpattedhimlightlyontheshoulderandsaidmildly:
—Anditdoesyoueverycredit,Temple.
—Buthe,Templesaid,pointingtoCranly,heisaballocks,too,likeme.Onlyhedoesn’tknowit.Andthat’stheonlydifferenceIsee.
Aburstoflaughtercoveredhiswords.
