A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
page 49 of 332 (14%)
page 49 of 332 (14%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
Uncle Charles and Mr Dedalus pulled Mr Casey back into his chair again, talking to him from both sides reasonably. He stared before him out of his dark flaming eyes, repeating: --Away with God, I say! Dante shoved her chair violently aside and left the table, upsetting her napkin-ring which rolled slowly along the carpet and came to rest against the foot of an easy-chair. Mrs Dedalus rose quickly and followed her towards the door. At the door Dante turned round violently and shouted down the room, her cheeks flushed and quivering with rage: --Devil out of hell! We won! We crushed him to death! Fiend! The door slammed behind her. Mr Casey, freeing his arms from his holders, suddenly bowed his head on his hands with a sob of pain. --Poor Parnell! he cried loudly. My dead king! He sobbed loudly and bitterly. Stephen, raising his terror-stricken face, saw that his father's eyes were full of tears. * * * * * |
|