Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 1
Hepaused.MrDedalus,liftinghisheadfromthebone,asked:
—Andwhatdidyoudo,John?
—Do!saidMrCasey.ShestuckheruglyoldfaceupatmewhenshesaiditandIhadmymouthfulloftobaccojuice.IbentdowntoherandPHTH!saysItoherlikethat.
Heturnedasideandmadetheactofspitting.
—PHTH!saysItoherlikethat,rightintohereye.
Heclappedhishandtohiseyeandgaveahoarsescreamofpain.
—OJESUS,MARYANDJOSEPH!saysshe.I’MBLINDED!I’MBLINDEDANDDROWNDED!
Hestoppedinafitofcoughingandlaughter,repeating:
—I’MBLINDEDENTIRELY.
MrDedaluslaughedloudlyandlaybackinhischairwhileuncleCharlesswayedhisheadtoandfro.
Dantelookedterriblyangryandrepeatedwhiletheylaughed:
—Verynice!Ha!Verynice!
Itwasnotniceaboutthespitinthewoman’seye.
ButwhatwasthenamethewomanhadcalledKittyO’SheathatMrCaseywouldnotrepeat?HethoughtofMrCaseywalkingthroughthecrowdsofpeopleandmakingspeechesfromawagonette.ThatwaswhathehadbeeninprisonforandherememberedthatonenightSergeantO’Neillhadcometothehouseandhadstoodinthehall,talkinginalowvoicewithhisfatherandchewingnervouslyatthechinstrapofhiscap.
