Дублінці
A Mother
TheirconversationwasevidentlyaboutKathleenfortheybothglancedatheroftenasshestoodchattingtooneofherNationalistfriends,MissHealy,thecontralto.Anunknownsolitarywomanwithapalefacewalkedthroughtheroom.Thewomenfollowedwithkeeneyesthefadedbluedresswhichwasstretcheduponameagrebody.SomeonesaidthatshewasMadamGlynn,thesoprano.
“Iwonderwheredidtheydigherup,”saidKathleentoMissHealy.“I’msureIneverheardofher.”
MissHealyhadtosmile.Mr.Holohanlimpedintothedressing-roomatthatmomentandthetwoyoungladiesaskedhimwhowastheunknownwoman.Mr.HolohansaidthatshewasMadamGlynnfromLondon.MadamGlynntookherstandinacorneroftheroom,holdingarollofmusicstifflybeforeherandfromtimetotimechangingthedirectionofherstartledgaze.Theshadowtookherfadeddressintoshelterbutfellrevengefullyintothelittlecupbehindhercollar-bone.Thenoiseofthehallbecamemoreaudible.Thefirsttenorandthebaritonearrivedtogether.Theywerebothwelldressed,stoutandcomplacentandtheybroughtabreathofopulenceamongthecompany.
Mrs.Kearneybroughtherdaughterovertothem,andtalkedtothemamiably.Shewantedtobeongoodtermswiththembut,whileshestrovetobepolite,hereyesfollowedMr.Holohaninhislimpinganddeviouscourses.Assoonasshecouldsheexcusedherselfandwentoutafterhim.
“Mr.Holohan,Iwanttospeaktoyouforamoment,”shesaid.
