Дублінці
The Dead
Soon,perhaps,hewouldbesittinginthatsamedrawing-room,dressedinblack,hissilkhatonhisknees.TheblindswouldbedrawndownandAuntKatewouldbesittingbesidehim,cryingandblowinghernoseandtellinghimhowJuliahaddied.Hewouldcastaboutinhismindforsomewordsthatmightconsoleher,andwouldfindonlylameanduselessones.Yes,yes:thatwouldhappenverysoon.
Theairoftheroomchilledhisshoulders.Hestretchedhimselfcautiouslyalongunderthesheetsandlaydownbesidehiswife.Onebyone,theywereallbecomingshades.Betterpassboldlyintothatotherworld,inthefullgloryofsomepassion,thanfadeandwitherdismallywithage.Hethoughtofhowshewholaybesidehimhadlockedinherheartforsomanyyearsthatimageofherlover’seyeswhenhehadtoldherthathedidnotwishtolive.
GeneroustearsfilledGabriel’seyes.Hehadneverfeltlikethathimselftowardsanywoman,butheknewthatsuchafeelingmustbelove.Thetearsgatheredmorethicklyinhiseyesandinthepartialdarknessheimaginedhesawtheformofayoungmanstandingunderadrippingtree.Otherformswerenear.Hissoulhadapproachedthatregionwheredwellthevasthostsofthedead.Hewasconsciousof,butcouldnotapprehend,theirwaywardandflickeringexistence.Hisownidentitywasfadingoutintoagreyimpalpableworld:thesolidworlditself,whichthesedeadhadonetimerearedandlivedin,wasdissolvinganddwindling
