THE JAMES JOYCE COLLECTION - 5 Books in One Edition. James JoyceЧитать онлайн книгу.
money, boys, he said.
—Sit down here, Mr Henchy, said the old man, offering him his chair.
—O, don’t stir, Jack, don’t stir, said Mr Henchy.
He nodded curtly to Mr Hynes and sat down on the chair which the old man vacated.
—Did you serve Aungier Street? he asked Mr O’Connor.
—Yes, said Mr O’Connor, beginning to search his pockets for memoranda.
—Did you call on Grimes?
—I did.
—Well? How does he stand?
—He wouldn’t promise. He said: I won’t tell anyone what way I’m going to vote. But I think he’ll be all right.
—Why so?
—He asked me who the nominators were, and I told him. I mentioned Father Burke’s name. I think it’ll be all right.
Mr Henchy began to snuffle and to rub his hands over the fire at a terrific speed. Then he said:
—For the love of God, Jack, bring us a bit of coal. There must be some left.
The old man went out of the room.
—It’s no go, said Mr Henchy, shaking his head. I asked the little shoeboy but he said: O, now, Mr Henchy, when I see the work going on properly I won’t forget you, you may be sure. Mean little tinker! ’Usha, how could he be anything else?
—What did I tell you, Mat? said Mr Hynes. Tricky Dicky Tierney.
—O, he’s as tricky as they make ’em, said Mr Henchy. He hasn’t got those little pigs’ eyes for nothing. Blast his soul! Couldn’t he pay up like a man instead of: O, now, Mr Henchy, I must speak to Mr Fanning… I’ve spent a lot of money? Mean little shoeboy of hell! I suppose he forgets the time his little old father kept the hand-me-down shop in Mary’s Lane.
—But is that a fact? asked Mr O’Connor.
—God, yes, said Mr Henchy. Did you never hear that? And the men used to go in on Sunday morning before the houses were open to buy a waistcoat or a trousers—moya! But Tricky Dicky’s little old father always had a tricky little black bottle up in a corner. Do you mind now? That’s that. That’s where he first saw the light.
The old man returned with a few lumps of coal which he placed here and there on the fire.
—That’s a nice how-do-you-do, said Mr O’Connor. How does he expect us to work for him if he won’t stump up?
—I can’t help it, said Mr Henchy. I expect to find the bailiffs in the hall when I go home.
Mr Hynes laughed and, shoving himself away from the mantelpiece with the aid of his shoulders, made ready to leave.
—It’ll be all right when King Eddie comes, he said. Well, boys, I’m off for the present. See you later. ’Bye, ’bye.
He went out of the room slowly. Neither Mr Henchy nor the old man said anything but just as the door was closing Mr O’Connor, who had been staring moodily into the fire, called out suddenly: —’Bye, Joe.
Mr Henchy waited a few moments and then nodded in the direction of the door.
—Tell me, he said across the fire, what brings our friend in here? What does he want?
—’Usha, poor Joe! said Mr O’Connor, throwing the end of his cigarette into the fire, he’s hard up like the rest of us.
Mr Henchy snuffled vigorously and spat so copiously that he nearly put out the fire, which uttered a hissing protest.
—To tell you my private and candid opinion, he said. I think he’s a man from the other camp. He’s a spy of Colgan’s if you ask me. Just go round and try and find out how they’re getting on. They won’t suspect you. Do you twig?
—Ah, poor Joe is a decent skin, said Mr O’Connor.
—His father was a decent respectable man, Mr Henchy admitted. Poor old Larry Hynes! Many a good turn he did in his day! But I’m greatly afraid our friend is not nineteen carat. Damn it, I can understand a fellow being hard up but what I can’t understand is a fellow sponging. Couldn’t he have some spark of manhood about him?
—He doesn’t get a warm welcome from me when he comes, said the old man. Let him work for his own side and not come spying around here.
—I don’t know, said Mr O’Connor dubiously, as he took out cigarette-papers and tobacco. I think Joe Hynes is a straight man. He’s a clever chap, too, with the pen. Do you remember that thing he wrote… ?
—Some of these hillsiders and fenians are a bit too clever if you ask me, said Mr Henchy. Do you know what my private and candid opinion is about some of those little jokers? I believe half of them are in the pay of the Castle.
—There’s no knowing, said the old man.
—O, but I know it for a fact, said Mr Henchy. They’re Castle hacks… I don’t say Hynes… No, damn it, I think he’s a stroke above that… But there’s a certain little nobleman with a cock-eye—you know the patriot I’m alluding to?
Mr O’Connor nodded.
—There’s a lineal descendant of Major Sirr for you if you like! O, the heart’s blood of a patriot! That’s a fellow now that’d sell his country for fourpence—ay—and go down on his bended knees and thank the Almighty Christ he had a country to sell.
There was a knock at the door.
—Come in! said Mr Henchy.
A person resembling a poor clergyman or a poor actor appeared in the doorway. His black clothes were tightly buttoned on his short body and it was impossible to say whether he wore a clergyman’s collar or a layman’s because the collar of his shabby frock-coat, the uncovered buttons of which reflected the candlelight, was turned up about his neck. He wore a round hat of hard black felt. His face, shining with raindrops, had the appearance of damp yellow cheese save where two rosy spots indicated the cheekbones. He opened his very long mouth suddenly to express disappointment and at the same time opened wide his very bright blue eyes to express pleasure and surprise.
—O, Father Keon! said Mr Henchy, jumping up from his chair. Is that you? Come in!
—O, no, no, no! said Father Keon quickly, pursing his lips as if he were addressing a child.
—Won’t you come in and sit down?
—No, no, no! said Father Keon, speaking in a discreet indulgent velvety voice. Don’t let me disturb you now! I’m just looking for Mr Fanning…
—He’s round at the Black Eagle, said Mr Henchy. But won’t you come in and sit down a minute?
—No, no, thank you. It was just a little business matter, said Father Keon. Thank you, indeed.
He retreated from the doorway and Mr Henchy, seizing one of the candlesticks, went to the door to light him downstairs.
—O, don’t trouble, I beg!
—No, but the stairs is so dark.
—No, no, I can see… Thank you, indeed.
—Are you right now?
—All right, thanks… Thanks.
Mr Henchy returned with the candlestick and put it on the table. He sat down again at the fire. There was silence for a few moments.
—Tell me, John, said Mr O’Connor, lighting his cigarette with another pasteboard card.
—Hm?
—What is he exactly?
—Ask me an easier one, said Mr Henchy.