Дублінці

Two Gallants

           “Leaveittome,can’tyou?”

           Lenehansaidnomore.Hedidnotwishtorufflehisfriend’stemper,tobesenttothedevilandtoldthathisadvicewasnotwanted.Alittletactwasnecessary.ButCorley’sbrowwassoonsmoothagain.Histhoughtswererunninganotherway.

           “She’safinedecenttart,”hesaid,withappreciation;“that’swhatsheis.”

           TheywalkedalongNassauStreetandthenturnedintoKildareStreet.Notfarfromtheporchoftheclubaharpiststoodintheroadway,playingtoalittleringoflisteners.Hepluckedatthewiresheedlessly,glancingquicklyfromtimetotimeatthefaceofeachnew-comerandfromtimetotime,wearilyalso,atthesky.Hisharp,too,heedlessthathercoveringshadfallenaboutherknees,seemedwearyalikeoftheeyesofstrangersandofhermaster’shands.OnehandplayedinthebassthemelodyofSilent,OMoyle,whiletheotherhandcareeredinthetrebleaftereachgroupofnotes.Thenotesoftheairsoundeddeepandfull.

           Thetwoyoungmenwalkedupthestreetwithoutspeaking,themournfulmusicfollowingthem.WhentheyreachedStephen’sGreentheycrossedtheroad.Herethenoiseoftrams,thelightsandthecrowdreleasedthemfromtheirsilence.

           “Theresheis!”saidCorley.

           AtthecornerofHumeStreetayoungwomanwasstanding.Sheworeabluedressandawhitesailorhat.Shestoodonthecurbstone,swingingasunshadeinonehand.Lenehangrewlively.

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Roboto Lora
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