Дублінці
Grace
Themanageraskedrepeatedlydidnooneknowwhotheinjuredmanwasorwherehadhisfriendsgone.Thedoorofthebaropenedandanimmenseconstableentered.Acrowdwhichhadfollowedhimdownthelanewaycollectedoutsidethedoor,strugglingtolookinthroughtheglasspanels.
Themanageratoncebegantonarratewhatheknew.Thecostable,ayoungmanwiththickimmobilefeatures,listened.Hemovedhisheadslowlytorightandleftandfromthemanagertothepersononthefloor,asifhefearedtobethevictimsomedelusion.Thenhedrewoffhisglove,producedasmallbookfromhiswaist,lickedtheleadofhispencilandmadereadytoindite.Heaskedinasuspiciousprovincialaccent:
“Whoistheman?What’shisnameandaddress?”
Ayoungmaninacycling-suitclearedhiswaythroughtheringofbystanders.Hekneltdownpromptlybesidetheinjuredmanandcalledforwater.Theconstablekneltdownalsotohelp.Theyoungmanwashedthebloodfromtheinjuredman’smouthandthencalledforsomebrandy.Theconstablerepeatedtheorderinanauthoritativevoiceuntilacuratecamerunningwiththeglass.Thebrandywasforceddowntheman’sthroat.Inafewsecondsheopenedhiseyesandlookedabouthim.Helookedatthecircleoffacesandthen,understanding,strovetorisetohisfeet.
“You’reallrightnow?”askedtheyoungmaninthecycling-suit.
“Sha,‘snothing,”saidtheinjuredman,tryingtostandup.
