Портрет художника в юності

           MrCaseypushedhisplaterudelyintothemiddleofthetableand,restinghiselbowsbeforehim,saidinahoarsevoicetohishost:

           —Tellme,didItellyouthatstoryaboutaveryfamousspit?

           —Youdidnot,John,saidMrDedalus.

           —Whythen,saidMrCasey,itisamostinstructivestory.IthappenednotlongagointhecountyWicklowwherewearenow.

           Hebrokeoffand,turningtowardsDante,saidwithquietindignation:

           —AndImaytellyou,ma’am,thatI,ifyoumeanme,amnorenegadecatholic.Iamacatholicasmyfatherwasandhisfatherbeforehimandhisfatherbeforehimagain,whenwegaveupourlivesratherthansellourfaith.

           —Themoreshametoyounow,Dantesaid,tospeakasyoudo.

           —Thestory,John,saidMrDedalussmiling.Letushavethestoryanyhow.

           —Catholicindeed!repeatedDanteironically.TheblackestprotestantinthelandwouldnotspeakthelanguageIhaveheardthisevening.

           MrDedalusbegantoswayhisheadtoandfro,crooninglikeacountrysinger.

           —Iamnoprotestant,Itellyouagain,saidMrCasey,flushing.

           MrDedalus,stillcrooningandswayinghishead,begantosinginagruntingnasaltone:

           O,comeallyouRomancatholicsThatneverwenttomass.