Dubliners I.docx

1、Dubliners IDubliners（ I ）by James Joyce Table of ContentsTHE SISTERS 1AN ENCOUNTER 7ARABY 13EVELINE 17AFTER THE RACE 20TWO GALLANTS 24THE SISTERS THERE was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke.Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) andstudied the lighted square

2、 of window: and night after night I hadfound it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead,I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blindfor I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a corpse. Hehad often said to me: I am not long for this world, and

3、 I hadthought his words idle. Now I knew they were true. Every night as Igazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis. Ithad always sounded strangely in my ears, like the word gnomon inthe Euclid and the word simony in the Catechism. But now itsounded to me like the name of some

4、 maleficent and sinful being. Itfilled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to lookupon its deadly work. Old Cotter was sitting at the fire, smoking, when I camedownstairs to supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout hesaid, as if returning to some former remark of his: No,

5、 I wouldnt say he was exactly. but there was somethingqueer. there was something uncanny about him. Ill tell you myopinion. He began to puff at his pipe, no doubt arranging his opinion in hismind. Tiresome old fool! When we knew him first he used to berather interesting, talking of faints and worms;

6、 but I soon grew tiredof him and his endless stories about the distillery. I have my own theory about it, he said. I think it was one ofthose . peculiar cases . But its hard to say. He began to puff again at his pipe without giving us his theory.My uncle saw me staring and said to me: Well, so your

7、old friend is gone, youll be sorry to hear. Who? said I. Father Flynn. Is he dead? Mr. Cotter here has just told us. He was passing by the house.I knew that I was under observation so I continued eating as if thenews had not interested me. My uncle explained to old Cotter.The youngster and he were g

8、reat friends. The old chap taughthim a great deal, mind you; and they say he had a great wish forhim. God have mercy on his soul, said my aunt piously. Old Cotter looked at me for a while. I felt that his little beadyblack eyes were examining me but I would not satisfy him by lookingup from my plate

9、. He returned to his pipe and finally spat rudelyinto the grate. I wouldnt like children of mine, he said, to have too much tosay to a man like that. How do you mean, Mr. Cotter? asked my aunt. What I mean is, said old Cotter, its bad for children. My ideais: let a young lad run about and play with

10、young lads of his own ageand not be. Am I right, Jack? Thats my principle, too, said my uncle. Let him learn to box hiscorner. Thats what Im always saying to that Rosicrucian there: takeexercise. Why, when I was a nipper every morning of my life I had acold bath, winter and summer. And thats what st

11、ands to me now.Education is all very fine and large. Mr. Cotter might take a pickof that leg mutton, he added to my aunt. No, no, not for me, said old Cotter. My aunt brought the dish from the safe and put it on the table.But why do you think its not good for children, Mr. Cotter? sheasked. Its bad

12、for children, said old Cotter, because their mind are soimpressionable. When children see things like that, you know, it hasan effect. I crammed my mouth with stirabout for fear I might giveutterance to my anger. Tiresome old red-nosed imbecile! It was late when I fell asleep. Though I was angry wit

13、h old Cotterfor alluding to me as a child, I puzzled my head to extract meaningfrom his unfinished sentences. In the dark of my room I imaginedthat I saw again the heavy grey face of the paralytic. I drew theblankets over my head and tried to think of Christmas. But the greyface still followed me. I

14、t murmured, and I understood that it desiredto confess something. I felt my soul receding into some pleasant andvicious region; and there again I found it waiting for me. It began toconfess to me in a murmuring voice and I wondered why it smiledcontinually and why the lips were so moist with spittle

15、. But then Iremembered that it had died of paralysis and I felt that I too wassmiling feebly as if to absolve the simoniac of his sin. The next morning after breakfast I went down to look at the littlehouse in Great Britain Street. It was an unassuming shop, registeredunder the vague name of Drapery

16、 . The drapery consisted mainly ofchildrens bootees and umbrellas; and on ordinary days a notice usedto hang in the window, saying: Umbrellas Re-covered . No noticewas visible now for the shutters were up. A crape bouquet was tiedto the doorknocker with ribbon. Two poor women and a telegramboy were reading the card pinned on the crape. I also app