Дублінці
The Dead
No,hemustseesomeardourinhereyesfirst.Helongedtobemasterofherstrangemood.
“Whendidyoulendhimthepound?”sheasked,afterapause.
GabrielstrovetorestrainhimselffrombreakingoutintobrutallanguageaboutthesottishMalinsandhispound.Helongedtocrytoherfromhissoul,tocrushherbodyagainsthis,toovermasterher.Buthesaid:
“O,atChristmas,whenheopenedthatlittleChristmas-cardshopinHenryStreet.”
Hewasinsuchafeverofrageanddesirethathedidnothearhercomefromthewindow.Shestoodbeforehimforaninstant,lookingathimstrangely.Then,suddenlyraisingherselfontiptoeandrestingherhandslightlyonhisshoulders,shekissedhim.
“Youareaverygenerousperson,Gabriel,”shesaid.
Gabriel,tremblingwithdelightathersuddenkissandatthequaintnessofherphrase,puthishandsonherhairandbegansmoothingitback,scarcelytouchingitwithhisfingers.Thewashinghadmadeitfineandbrilliant.Hisheartwasbrimmingoverwithhappiness.Justwhenhewaswishingforitshehadcometohimofherownaccord.Perhapsherthoughtshadbeenrunningwithhis.Perhapsshehadfelttheimpetuousdesirethatwasinhim,andthentheyieldingmoodhadcomeuponher.Nowthatshehadfallentohimsoeasily,hewonderedwhyhehadbeensodiffident.
Hestood,holdingherheadbetweenhishands.
