Дублінці
Araby
Myauntsaidtohimenergetically:
“Can’tyougivehimthemoneyandlethimgo?You’vekepthimlateenoughasitis.”
Myunclesaidhewasverysorryhehadforgotten.Hesaidhebelievedintheoldsaying:“AllworkandnoplaymakesJackadullboy.”HeaskedmewhereIwasgoingand,whenIhadtoldhimasecondtimeheaskedmedidIknowTheArab’sFarewelltohisSteed.WhenIleftthekitchenhewasabouttorecitetheopeninglinesofthepiecetomyaunt.
IheldaflorintightlyinmyhandasIstrodedownBuckinghamStreettowardsthestation.Thesightofthestreetsthrongedwithbuyersandglaringwithgasrecalledtomethepurposeofmyjourney.Itookmyseatinathird-classcarriageofadesertedtrain.Afteranintolerabledelaythetrainmovedoutofthestationslowly.Itcreptonwardamongruinoushouseandoverthetwinklingriver.AtWestlandRowStationacrowdofpeoplepressedtothecarriagedoors;buttheportersmovedthemback,sayingthatitwasaspecialtrainforthebazaar.Iremainedaloneinthebarecarriage.Inafewminutesthetraindrewupbesideanimprovisedwoodenplatform.Ipassedoutontotheroadandsawbythelighteddialofaclockthatitwastenminutestoten.Infrontofmewasalargebuildingwhichdisplayedthemagicalname.
Icouldnotfindanysixpennyentranceand,fearingthatthebazaarwouldbeclosed,Ipassedinquicklythroughaturnstile,handingashillingtoaweary-lookingman.
