Дублінці
Grace
”
Heturnedtowardshiswifetobeconfirmed.
“Ioftentoldyouthat?”
Mrs.Kernannodded.
“ItwasattheunveilingofSirJohnGray’sstatue.EdmundDwyerGraywasspeaking,blatheringaway,andherewasthisoldfellow,crabbed-lookingoldchap,lookingathimfromunderhisbushyeyebrows.”
Mr.Kernanknittedhisbrowsand,loweringhisheadlikeanangrybull,glaredathiswife.
“God!”heexclaimed,resuminghisnaturalface,“Ineversawsuchaneyeinaman’shead.Itwasasmuchastosay:Ihaveyouproperlytaped,mylad.Hehadaneyelikeahawk.”
“NoneoftheGrayswasanygood,”saidMr.Power.
Therewasapauseagain.Mr.PowerturnedtoMrs.Kernanandsaidwithabruptjoviality:
“Well,Mrs.Kernan,we’regoingtomakeyourmanhereagoodholypiousandGod-fearingRomanCatholic.”
Heswepthisarmroundthecompanyinclusively.
“We’reallgoingtomakearetreattogetherandconfessoursins—andGodknowswewantitbadly.”
“Idon’tmind,”saidMr.Kernan,smilingalittlenervously.
Mrs.Kernanthoughtitwouldbewisertoconcealhersatisfaction.Soshesaid:
“Ipitythepoorpriestthathastolistentoyourtale.”
Mr.Kernan’sexpressionchanged.
