Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 5
ButheturnedagaintoStephenandsaidwithasuddeneagerness:
—Thatwordisamostinterestingword.That’stheonlyEnglishdualnumber.Didyouknow?
—Isit?Stephensaidvaguely.
HewaswatchingCranly’sfirm-featuredsufferingface,litupnowbyasmileoffalsepatience.Thegrossnamehadpassedoveritlikefoulwaterpouredoveranoldstoneimage,patientofinjuries;and,ashewatchedhim,hesawhimraisehishatinsaluteanduncovertheblackhairthatstoodstifflyfromhisforeheadlikeanironcrown.
ShepassedoutfromtheporchofthelibraryandbowedacrossStepheninreplytoCranly’sgreeting.Healso?WastherenotaslightflushonCranly’scheek?OrhaditcomeforthatTemple’swords?Thelighthadwaned.Hecouldnotsee.
Didthatexplainhisfriend’slistlesssilence,hisharshcomments,thesuddenintrusionsofrudespeechwithwhichhehadshatteredsooftenStephen’sardentwaywardconfessions?Stephenhadforgivenfreelyforhehadfoundthisrudenessalsoinhimself.AndherememberedaneveningwhenhehaddismountedfromaborrowedcreakingbicycletopraytoGodinawoodnearMalahide.Hehadlifteduphisarmsandspokeninecstasytothesombrenaveofthetrees,knowingthathestoodonholygroundandinaholyhour.Andwhentwoconstabularymenhadcomeintosightroundabendinthegloomyroadhehadbrokenoffhisprayertowhistleloudlyanairfromthelastpantomime.
