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第21章Araby
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JamesJoyce
NorthRidStreet，beingblind，wasaquietstreetexceptatthehourwheianBrothers'Schoolsettheboysfree.Anuninhabitedhouseoftwostoreysstoodatthebliaitsneighboursiheotherhousesofthestreet，sciousofdetliveswithinthem，gazedatohbrowurbablefaces.
&enantofourhouse，apriest，haddiedinthebag-rooAir，mustyfromhavingbeenlongenginalltherooms，aeroombehiwaslitteredwitholduselesspapers.AmongtheseIfoundafeer-coveredbooks，thepagesofwhichwereddamp:TheAbbot，byWalterScott，TheDevoutunidTheMemoirsofVidocq.Ilikedthelastbestbecauseitsleaveswereyellow.Thewildgardehehouseedatralapple-treearagglingbushes，underoneofwhidthelatetenant'srustybicycle-pump.Hehadbeeablepriest;inhiswillhehadleftallhismoitutioureofhishousetohissister.
&heshortdaysofwintercameduskfellbeforewehadwelleatenourdiihehouseshadgrowhespaceofskyaboveuswasthecolourvioletandtowardsitthelampsofthestreetliftedtheirfeeblelahecusailllowed.Ourshoutsethesilehecareerofourplaybroughtusthroughthedarkmuddylahehouseswherewerahtribesfromthecottages，tothebackdoorsofthedarkdrippinggardenswhereodoursarosefromtheashpits，tothedarkodorousstableswhereaoothedahehorseorshookmusithebuess.Whehtfromthekitdowshadfilledtheareas.Ifmyunclewasseenturningtheer，wehidintheshadowuntilwehadseenhimsafelyhan'ssistercameoutoeptocallherbrotherintohistea，wewatchedherfromourshadowpeerupanddow.Wewaitedtoseewhethershewouldremainoinand，ifsheremaiourshadotoMangan'sstepsresigingfuredefifromthehalf-openeddoor.Herbrotheralwaysteasedherbeforeheobeyed，andIstoodbytherailingslookingather.Herdressswungasshemovedherbody，aropeofherhairtossedfromsidetoside.
EverymIlayontheflooriparlherdoor.TheblindulleddowntowithinaninchofthesashsothatIotbeseeoepmyheartleaped.Irantothehall，seizedmybooksandfollowedher.Ikeptherbrownfigurealwaysinmyeyeand，whehepointatwhichourwaysdiverged，Iquiedmypadpassedher.ThishappenedmafterIhadneverspokeforafewcasualwords，ahernamewaslikeasummonstoallmyfoolishblood.
HerimageaeevehemosthostiletoromaurdayeveweingIhadtogotoeoftheparcels.Wewalkedthroughtheflariledbydrunkenmenandbargaihecursesoflabourers，theshrilllitaniesofshop-boyswhostoodonguardbythebarrelsofpigs'cheeks，thenasalgers，whosangae-all-youaboutO'DonovanRossa，oraballadaboutthetroublesinourhesenoisesvergediionoflifeforme:IimagiIboremychalicesafelythroffoes.HeromylipsatmomentsinstrangeprayersandpraiseswhichImyselfdidand.Myeyeswereoftenfulloftears（Iottellwhy）andattimesafloodfrommyheartseemedtopouritselfoutintomybosoIthoughtlittleofthefuture.IdidnotkherIwouldeverspeaktoherornotor，ifIspoketoher，howIcouldtellherofmyfusedadoration.Butmybodyandherwestureswerelikefingersrunninguponthewires.
Oneevehebag-roominwhichthepriesthaddied.Itwasadarkrainyeveningandtherewasnosouhroughohebrokenpaheraiheearth，thefierplayinginthesoddenbeds.Somedistantlamphtedwindowgleamedbelowme.IwasthankfulthatIcouldseesolittle.AllmyseodesiretoveilthemselvesaIwasabouttoslipfromthem，Ipressedthepalmsofmyhailtheytrembled，murmuring:'Olove!Olove!'manytimes.
Atlastshespoketome.WhensheaddressedthefirstwordstomeIwassofusedthatIdidnotknowwhattoanswer.SheaskedmewasIgoingtoAraby.IfotwhetherIansweredyesorno.Itlendidbazaar;shesaidshewouldlovetogo.
"Andos;tyou?"Iasked.
Whileshespokesheturnedasilverbradandrou.Sheotgo，shesaid，becausetherewouldbearetreatthatweeki.HerbrotherandtwootherbhtingfortheirdIwasaloherailings.Sheheldohespikes，bowiowardsme.Thelightfromthelampoppositehtthewhitecurveofherupherhairthatrestedthereand，falling，litupthehandup.Itfelloveronesideofherdressandcaughtthewhiteborderofapetticoat，justvisibleasshestoodatease.
"It'swellforyou，"shesaid.
"IfIgo，"Isaid，"Iwillbringyousomething."
Whatinnumerablefollieslaidwastemyingthoughtsafterthatevenioaedidays.IchafedagainsttheworkofsightinmybedroomandbydayintheagecamebetageIstrovetoread.ThesyllablesofthewordArabywereethroughthesilenwhichmysoulluxuriatedandEastermentoverme.Iaskedforleavetogotothebazaarht.Myauntrised，awasnotsomeFreemasonaffair.Iaionsinclass.Iwatchedmymaster'sfacepassfromamiabilitytosternness;hehopedIwasoidle.Iywahoughtstogether.Ihadhardlyahtheseriousworkoflifewhiowthatitstoodbetweenmeandmydesire，seemedtomechild'splay，uglymonotonouschild'splay.
OnSaturdaymIremindedmyuIwishedtogotothebazaarintheevening.Hewasfussiand，looki-brush，aly:
"Yes，boy，Iknow."
&hehallIotgoiparlourahewihehouseinbadhumourandwalkedslowlytowardstheschool.Theairitilesslyrawandalreadymyheartmisgaveme.
Wheodinnermyuyetbeewasearly.Isatstaringattheetimeaigbegantoirritateme，IlefttherooImouairdgaiheupperpartofthehouse.Thehigh，pty，gloomyroomsliberatedmeafromring.Fromthefrontmypanionsplayihestreet.Theircriesreachedmeweakenedandindistind，leaningmyfainstthecoolglass，Ilookedoveratthedarkhousewhereshelived.Imayhavestoodtherefnothingbutthebrown-cladfigurecastbymyimagination，toucheddiscreetlybythelamplightattheeck，atthehandupsandattheborderbelowthedress.
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