Дублінці
The Dead
Whydidtheyneverplaythegrandoldoperasnow,heasked,Dinorah,LucreziaBorgia?Becausetheycouldnotgetthevoicestosingthem:thatwaswhy.
“Oh,well,”saidMr.BartellD’Arcy,“Ipresumethereareasgoodsingerstodayastherewerethen.”
“Wherearethey?”askedMr.Brownedefiantly.
“InLondon,Paris,Milan,”saidMr.BartellD’Arcywarmly.“IsupposeCaruso,forexample,isquiteasgood,ifnotbetterthananyofthemenyouhavementioned.”
“Maybeso,”saidMr.Browne.“ButImaytellyouIdoubtitstrongly.”
“O,I’dgiveanythingtohearCarusosing,”saidMaryJane.
“Forme,”saidAuntKate,whohadbeenpickingabone,“therewasonlyonetenor.Topleaseme,Imean.ButIsupposenoneofyoueverheardofhim.”
“Whowashe,MissMorkan?”askedMr.BartellD’Arcypolitely.
“Hisname,”saidAuntKate,“wasParkinson.IheardhimwhenhewasinhisprimeandIthinkhehadthenthepuresttenorvoicethatwaseverputintoaman’sthroat.”
“Strange,”saidMr.BartellD’Arcy.“Ineverevenheardofhim.”
“Yes,yes,MissMorkanisright,”saidMr.Browne.“IrememberhearingofoldParkinsonbuthe’stoofarbackforme.”
“Abeautiful,pure,sweet,mellowEnglishtenor,”saidAuntKatewithenthusiasm.
