Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 1
AndonedayBoylehadsaidthatartelephanthadtwotuskersinsteadoftwotusksandthatwaswhyhewascalledTuskerBoylebutsomefellowscalledhimLadyBoylebecausehewasalwaysathisnails,paringthem.
Eileenhadlongthincoolwhitehandstoobecauseshewasagirl.Theywerelikeivory;onlysoft.ThatwasthemeaningofTOWEROFIVORYbutprotestantscouldnotunderstanditandmadefunofit.Onedayhehadstoodbesideherlookingintothehotelgrounds.Awaiterwasrunningupatrailofbuntingontheflagstaffandafoxterrierwasscamperingtoandfroonthesunnylawn.Shehadputherhandintohispocketwherehishandwasandhehadfelthowcoolandthinandsoftherhandwas.Shehadsaidthatpocketswerefunnythingstohave:andthenallofasuddenshehadbrokenawayandhadrunlaughingdowntheslopingcurveofthepath.Herfairhairhadstreamedoutbehindherlikegoldinthesun.TOWEROFIVORY.HOUSEOFGOLD.Bythinkingofthingsyoucouldunderstandthem.
Butwhyinthesquare?Youwenttherewhenyouwantedtodosomething.Itwasallthickslabsofslateandwatertrickledalldayoutoftinypinholesandtherewasaqueersmellofstalewaterthere.AndbehindthedoorofoneoftheclosetstherewasadrawinginredpencilofabeardedmaninaRomandresswithabrickineachhandandunderneathwasthenameofthedrawing:
Balbuswasbuildingawall.
Somefellowhaddrawnitthereforacod.Ithadafunnyfacebutitwasverylikeamanwithabeard.
