Дублінці
The Sisters
“Lethimlearntoboxhiscorner.That’swhatI’malwayssayingtothatRosicrucianthere:takeexercise.Why,whenIwasanippereverymorningofmylifeIhadacoldbath,winterandsummer.Andthat’swhatstandstomenow.Educationisallveryfineandlarge....Mr.Cottermighttakeapickofthatlegmutton,”headdedtomyaunt.
“No,no,notforme,”saidoldCotter.
Myauntbroughtthedishfromthesafeandputitonthetable.
“Butwhydoyouthinkit’snotgoodforchildren,Mr.Cotter?”sheasked.
“It’sbadforchildren,”saidoldCotter,“becausetheirmindaresoimpressionable.Whenchildrenseethingslikethat,youknow,ithasaneffect....”
IcrammedmymouthwithstiraboutforfearImightgiveutterancetomyanger.Tiresomeoldred-nosedimbecile!
ItwaslatewhenIfellasleep.ThoughIwasangrywitholdCotterforalludingtomeasachild,Ipuzzledmyheadtoextractmeaningfromhisunfinishedsentences.InthedarkofmyroomIimaginedthatIsawagaintheheavygreyfaceoftheparalytic.IdrewtheblanketsovermyheadandtriedtothinkofChristmas.Butthegreyfacestillfollowedme.Itmurmured,andIunderstoodthatitdesiredtoconfesssomething.Ifeltmysoulrecedingintosomepleasantandviciousregion;andthereagainIfounditwaitingforme.ItbegantoconfesstomeinamurmuringvoiceandIwonderedwhyitsmiledcontinuallyandwhythelipsweresomoistwithspittle.
