Дублінці
An Encounter
”Mahonyaskedwhycouldn’tboysreadthem—aquestionwhichagitatedandpainedmebecauseIwasafraidthemanwouldthinkIwasasstupidasMahony.Theman,however,onlysmiled.Isawthathehadgreatgapsinhismouthbetweenhisyellowteeth.Thenheaskeduswhichofushadthemostsweethearts.Mahonymentionedlightlythathehadthreetotties.ThemanaskedmehowmanyIhad.IansweredthatIhadnone.HedidnotbelievemeandsaidhewassureImusthaveone.Iwassilent.
“Tellus,”saidMahonypertlytotheman,“howmanyhaveyouyourself?”
Themansmiledasbeforeandsaidthatwhenhewasouragehehadlotsofsweethearts.
“Everyboy,”hesaid,“hasalittlesweetheart.”
Hisattitudeonthispointstruckmeasstrangelyliberalinamanofhisage.InmyheartIthoughtthatwhathesaidaboutboysandsweetheartswasreasonable.ButIdislikedthewordsinhismouthandIwonderedwhyheshiveredonceortwiceasifhefearedsomethingorfeltasuddenchill.AsheproceededInoticedthathisaccentwasgood.Hebegantospeaktousaboutgirls,sayingwhatnicesofthairtheyhadandhowsofttheirhandswereandhowallgirlswerenotsogoodastheyseemedtobeifoneonlyknew.Therewasnothingheliked,hesaid,somuchaslookingataniceyounggirl,athernicewhitehandsandherbeautifulsofthair.
