Дублінці

After the Race

           Thecardroveoffandtheshortfatmancaughtsightoftheparty.

           “Andre.”

           “It’sFarley!”

           Atorrentoftalkfollowed.FarleywasanAmerican.Nooneknewverywellwhatthetalkwasabout.VillonaandRivierewerethenoisiest,butallthemenwereexcited.Theygotuponacar,squeezingthemselvestogetheramidmuchlaughter.Theydrovebythecrowd,blendednowintosoftcolours,toamusicofmerrybells.TheytookthetrainatWestlandRowandinafewseconds,asitseemedtoJimmy,theywerewalkingoutofKingstownStation.Theticket-collectorsalutedJimmy;hewasanoldman:

           “Finenight,sir!”

           Itwasaserenesummernight;theharbourlaylikeadarkenedmirrorattheirfeet.Theyproceededtowardsitwithlinkedarms,singingCadetRousselinchorus,stampingtheirfeetatevery:

           “Ho!Ho!Hohe,vraiment!”

           TheygotintoarowboatattheslipandmadeoutfortheAmerican’syacht.Therewastobesupper,music,cards.Villonasaidwithconviction:

           “Itisdelightful!”

           Therewasayachtpianointhecabin.VillonaplayedawaltzforFarleyandRiviere,FarleyactingascavalierandRiviereaslady.Thenanimpromptusquaredance,themendevisingoriginalfigures.Whatmerriment!Jimmytookhispartwithawill;thiswasseeinglife,atleast.

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Roboto Lora
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