Дублінці
The Dead
Good-night,Gretta!”
“Good-night,AuntKate,andthankseversomuch.Goodnight,AuntJulia.”
“O,good-night,Gretta,Ididn’tseeyou.”
“Good-night,Mr.D’Arcy.Good-night,MissO’Callaghan.”
“Good-night,MissMorkan.”
“Good-night,again.”
“Good-night,all.Safehome.”
“Good-night.Goodnight.”
Themorningwasstilldark.Adull,yellowlightbroodedoverthehousesandtheriver;andtheskyseemedtobedescending.Itwasslushyunderfoot;andonlystreaksandpatchesofsnowlayontheroofs,ontheparapetsofthequayandonthearearailings.Thelampswerestillburningredlyinthemurkyairand,acrosstheriver,thepalaceoftheFourCourtsstoodoutmenacinglyagainsttheheavysky.
ShewaswalkingonbeforehimwithMr.BartellD’Arcy,hershoesinabrownparceltuckedunderonearmandherhandsholdingherskirtupfromtheslush.Shehadnolongeranygraceofattitude,butGabriel’seyeswerestillbrightwithhappiness.Thebloodwentboundingalonghisveins;andthethoughtswentriotingthroughhisbrain,proud,joyful,tender,valorous.
Shewaswalkingonbeforehimsolightlyandsoerectthathelongedtorunafterhernoiselessly,catchherbytheshouldersandsaysomethingfoolishandaffectionateintoherear.Sheseemedtohimsofrailthathelongedtodefendheragainstsomethingandthentobealonewithher.
