Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 2
It’salwaysgettingstucklikethat.Doyouuseaholder?
—Idon’tsmoke,answeredStephen.
—No,saidHeron,Dedalusisamodelyouth.Hedoesn’tsmokeandhedoesn’tgotobazaarsandhedoesn’tflirtandhedoesn’tdamnanythingordamnall.
Stephenshookhisheadandsmiledinhisrival’sflushedandmobileface,beakedlikeabird’s.HehadoftenthoughtitstrangethatVincentHeronhadabird’sfaceaswellasabird’sname.Ashockofpalehairlayontheforeheadlikearuffledcrest:theforeheadwasnarrowandbonyandathinhookednosestoodoutbetweentheclose-setprominenteyeswhichwerelightandinexpressive.Therivalswereschoolfriends.Theysattogetherinclass,knelttogetherinthechapel,talkedtogetherafterbeadsovertheirlunches.Asthefellowsinnumberonewereundistinguisheddullards,StephenandHeronhadbeenduringtheyearthevirtualheadsoftheschool.Itwastheywhowentuptotherectortogethertoaskforafreedayortogetafellowoff.
—Obytheway,saidHeronsuddenly,Isawyourgovernorgoingin.
ThesmilewanedonStephen’sface.Anyallusionmadetohisfatherbyafelloworbyamasterputhiscalmtoroutinamoment.HewaitedintimoroussilencetohearwhatHeronmightsaynext.Heron,however,nudgedhimexpressivelywithhiselbowandsaid:
—You’reaslydog.
—Whyso?saidStephen.
