Портрет художника в юності

           —Doyoumeanwomen?

           —Iamnotspeakingofthat,Cranlysaidinacoldertone.Iaskyouifyoueverfeltlovetowardsanyoneoranything?

           Stephenwalkedonbesidehisfriend,staringgloomilyatthefootpath.

           —ItriedtoloveGod,hesaidatlength.ItseemsnowIfailed.Itisverydifficult.ItriedtounitemywillwiththewillofGodinstantbyinstant.InthatIdidnotalwaysfail.Icouldperhapsdothatstill—

           Cranlycuthimshortbyasking:

           —Hasyourmotherhadahappylife?

           —HowdoIknow?Stephensaid.

           —Howmanychildrenhadshe?

           —Nineorten,Stephenanswered.Somedied.

           —Wasyour...fatherCranlyinterruptedhimselfforaninstant,andthensaid:Idon’twanttopryintoyourfamilyaffairs.Butwasyourfatherwhatiscalledwell-to-do?Imean,whenyouweregrowingup?

           —Yes,Stephensaid.

           —Whatwashe?Cranlyaskedafterapause.

           Stephenbegantoenumerategliblyhisfather’sattributes.

           —Amedicalstudent,anoarsman,atenor,anamateuractor,ashoutingpolitician,asmalllandlord,asmallinvestor,adrinker,agoodfellow,astory-teller,somebody’ssecretary,somethinginadistillery,atax-gatherer,abankruptandatpresentapraiserofhisownpast.