Дублінці

           Somedistantlamporlightedwindowgleamedbelowme.IwasthankfulthatIcouldseesolittle.Allmysensesseemedtodesiretoveilthemselvesand,feelingthatIwasabouttoslipfromthem,Ipressedthepalmsofmyhandstogetheruntiltheytrembled,murmuring:“Olove!Olove!”manytimes.

           Atlastshespoketome.WhensheaddressedthefirstwordstomeIwassoconfusedthatIdidnotknowwhattoanswer.SheaskedmewasIgoingtoAraby.IforgotwhetherIansweredyesorno.Itwouldbeasplendidbazaar,shesaidshewouldlovetogo.

           “Andwhycan’tyou?”Iasked.

           Whileshespokesheturnedasilverbraceletroundandroundherwrist.Shecouldnotgo,shesaid,becausetherewouldbearetreatthatweekinherconvent.HerbrotherandtwootherboyswerefightingfortheircapsandIwasaloneattherailings.Sheheldoneofthespikes,bowingherheadtowardsme.Thelightfromthelampoppositeourdoorcaughtthewhitecurveofherneck,litupherhairthatrestedthereand,falling,litupthehandupontherailing.Itfelloveronesideofherdressandcaughtthewhiteborderofapetticoat,justvisibleasshestoodatease.

           “It’swellforyou,”shesaid.

           “IfIgo,”Isaid,“Iwillbringyousomething.”

           Whatinnumerablefollieslaidwastemywakingandsleepingthoughtsafterthatevening!Iwishedtoannihilatethetediousinterveningdays.Ichafedagainsttheworkofschool.