Cantitate/Preț
Produs

Dubliners (Penguin Modern Classics)

De (autor)
Notă GoodReads:
en Limba Engleză Paperback – 03 Feb 2000
James Joyce's Dubliners is an enthralling collection of modernist short stories which create a vivid picture of the day-to-day experience of Dublin life. This Penguin Classics edition includes notes and an introduction by Terence Brown.
Joyce's first major work, written when he was only twenty-five, brought his city to the world for the first time. His stories are rooted in the rich detail of Dublin life, portraying ordinary, often defeated lives with unflinching realism. From 'The Sisters', a vivid portrait of childhood faith and guilt, to 'Araby', a timeless evocation of the inexplicable yearnings of adolescence, to 'The Dead', in which Gabriel Conroy is gradually brought to a painful epiphany regarding the nature of his existence, Joyce draws a realistic and memorable cast of Dubliners together in an powerful exploration of overarching themes. Writing of social decline, sexual desire and exploitation, corruption and personal failure, he creates a brilliantly compelling, unique vision of the world and of human experience.
James Joyce (1882-1941), the eldest of ten children, was born in Dublin, but exiled himself to Paris at twenty as a rebellion against his upbringing. He only returned to Ireland briefly from the continent but Dublin was at heart of his greatest works, Ulysses and Finnegans Wake. He lived in poverty until the last ten years of his life and was plagued by near blindness and the grief of his daughter's mental illness.
If you enjoyed Dubliners, you might like Joyce's Ulysses, also available in Penguin Modern Classics.
'Joyce redeems his Dubliners, assures their identity, and makes their social existence appear permanent and immortal, like the streets they walk'
Tom Paulin
'Joyce's early short stories remain undimmed in their brilliance'
Sunday Times
Citește tot Restrânge
Toate formatele și edițiile
Toate formatele și edițiile Preț Express
Paperback (114) 2701 lei  Economic 17-24 zile +228 lei  12-19 zile
  Reclam Philipp Jun. – 2701 lei  Economic 17-24 zile +228 lei  12-19 zile
  Dover Publications – May 1991 2940 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +974 lei  6-8 zile
  Value Classic Reprints – 26 Sep 2017 3398 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +343 lei  18-26 zile
  Penguin Random House Group – 2001 3808 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +268 lei  18-26 zile
  HarperCollins Publishers – 10 Jun 2021 3892 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +270 lei  15-22 zile
  Alma Books COMMIS – 22 Jun 2017 3910 lei  Economic 21-33 zile +458 lei  6-8 zile
  Arcturus Publishing – 15 Jun 2019 3933 lei  Economic 28-40 zile
  Penguin Books – 26 Jul 2012 4113 lei  Economic 28-40 zile +951 lei  6-8 zile
  4255 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +310 lei  18-26 zile
  Penguin Books – 05 Apr 2012 4422 lei  Economic 28-40 zile +959 lei  6-8 zile
  LIGHTNING SOURCE INC – 27 Jul 2013 4469 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +470 lei  18-26 zile
  Oxford University Press – 12 Jun 2008 4540 lei  Economic 17-21 zile +827 lei  6-8 zile
  SMK Books – 22 Mar 2012 4625 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +488 lei  18-26 zile
  Vintage Publishing – 06 Dec 2012 4634 lei  Economic 28-40 zile +1077 lei  6-8 zile
  Canongate Books Ltd – 05 Dec 2019 4657 lei  Economic 28-40 zile +1080 lei  6-8 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 4748 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +351 lei  18-26 zile
  Penguin Books – 03 Feb 2000 4752 lei  Economic 28-40 zile +1215 lei  6-8 zile
  CREATESPACE – 4784 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +355 lei  18-26 zile
  Simon & Brown – March 2011 4857 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +516 lei  18-26 zile
  Digireads.com – April 2019 4873 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +512 lei  18-26 zile
  LIGHTNING SOURCE INC – 15 Jun 2018 5004 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +366 lei  18-26 zile
  5030 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +374 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 5030 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +374 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – August 2010 5036 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +376 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 5068 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +377 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 5107 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +380 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 5159 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +384 lei  18-26 zile
  Simon & Brown – 08 Sep 2011 5317 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +569 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 5444 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +409 lei  18-26 zile
  5485 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +412 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 5514 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +413 lei  18-26 zile
  Lector House – 06 May 2019 5566 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +592 lei  18-26 zile
  Clearlight – 21 May 2020 5635 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +601 lei  18-26 zile
  5675 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +427 lei  18-26 zile
  LIGHTNING SOURCE INC – 24 Sep 2018 5766 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +426 lei  18-26 zile
  5839 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +441 lei  18-26 zile
  KUPERARD (BRAVO LTD) – 24 Jan 2013 5849 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +426 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 5970 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +451 lei  18-26 zile
  Penguin Books – 07 Aug 2014 5977 lei  Economic 28-40 zile +1619 lei  6-8 zile
  CREATESPACE – 6024 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +454 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 6041 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +456 lei  18-26 zile
  6074 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +459 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 6096 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +461 lei  18-26 zile
  Penguin Books – June 1993 6117 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +447 lei  15-22 zile
  CREATESPACE – 6147 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +466 lei  18-26 zile
  6262 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +475 lei  18-26 zile
  6267 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +475 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 6301 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +478 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 6301 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +478 lei  18-26 zile
  6338 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +481 lei  18-26 zile
  6351 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +482 lei  18-26 zile
  6484 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +492 lei  18-26 zile
  6577 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +500 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 6596 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +501 lei  18-26 zile
  6600 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +503 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 6622 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +504 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 6699 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +510 lei  18-26 zile
  6701 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +510 lei  18-26 zile
  6735 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +512 lei  18-26 zile
  Vintage Publishing – April 1993 6740 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +494 lei  18-26 zile
  Alpha Editions – 21 Oct 2020 6851 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +739 lei  18-26 zile
  Susan Publishing Ltd – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  Yorkshire Public Books – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  USA Public Domain Books – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  Toronto Public Domain Publishing – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  Texas Public Domain – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  Barclays Public Books – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  Public Publishing – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  Camel Publishing House – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  Public Public Books – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  Mary Publishing Company – 18 Jun 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  Public Park Publishing – 09 Jan 2020 6881 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +743 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 6949 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +531 lei  18-26 zile
  6973 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +523 lei  18-26 zile
  EMPIRE BOOKS – November 2011 7005 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +535 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 7130 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +544 lei  18-26 zile
  Bottom of the Hill Publishing – 2015 7175 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +691 lei  18-26 zile
  7198 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +551 lei  18-26 zile
  7298 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +559 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 7394 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +566 lei  18-26 zile
  7494 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +574 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 7550 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +578 lei  18-26 zile
  1st World Publishing – 22 Jul 2013 7619 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +764 lei  18-26 zile
  Delhi Open Books – July 2020 7769 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +746 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 09 Dec 2015 7844 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +602 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 8082 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +622 lei  18-26 zile
  Simon & Brown – 15 Nov 2018 8089 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +611 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 8359 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +646 lei  18-26 zile
  1st World Library – 8539 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +857 lei  18-26 zile
  8906 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +677 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 9219 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +702 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 9237 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +716 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 9555 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +729 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 9990 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +778 lei  18-26 zile
  Rupa Publication – 2004 10017 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +982 lei  18-26 zile
  BOOK ON DEMAND LTD – 23 Jan 2019 10115 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1024 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 10527 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +821 lei  18-26 zile
  12143 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +953 lei  18-26 zile
  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform – 13143 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1033 lei  18-26 zile
  CREATESPACE – 13417 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1056 lei  18-26 zile
  TREDITION CLASSICS – November 2012 14255 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1597 lei  18-26 zile
  Digireads.com – 21 May 2016 3968 lei  Economic 42-54 zile
  Lits – August 2010 4497 lei  Economic 42-54 zile
  12th Media Services – 17 Mar 2018 5171 lei  Economic 38-45 zile
  LIGHTNING SOURCE INC – 30 Oct 2018 6329 lei  Economic 17-24 zile
  LIGHTNING SOURCE INC – 12 Oct 2018 6329 lei  Economic 17-24 zile
  Echo Library – 6881 lei  Economic 42-54 zile
  Blurb – 08 Feb 2019 7278 lei  Economic 38-45 zile
  SC Active Business Development SRL – 06 Apr 2017 7572 lei  Economic 38-45 zile
  BLURB INC – 09 Jan 2019 7628 lei  Economic 17-24 zile
  Simon & Brown – 30 Oct 2018 7730 lei  Economic 38-45 zile
  Blurb – 02 Oct 2019 8994 lei  Economic 38-45 zile
  Urban Romantics – 10 Sep 2012 9747 lei  Economic 38-45 zile
  LIGHTNING SOURCE INC – 27 May 2018 17437 lei  Economic 17-24 zile
Hardback (15) 5842 lei  Economic 21-33 zile +313 lei  6-8 zile
  Flame Tree Publishing – 15 Jan 2020 5842 lei  Economic 21-33 zile +313 lei  6-8 zile
  Value Classic Reprints – 26 Sep 2017 7651 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +804 lei  18-26 zile
  Simon & Brown – 30 Oct 2018 9114 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +966 lei  18-26 zile
  9470 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1040 lei  18-26 zile
  9470 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1040 lei  18-26 zile
  Alpha Editions – 19 Oct 2020 10460 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1155 lei  18-26 zile
  SMK Books – 03 Apr 2018 11802 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1309 lei  18-26 zile
  Everyman's Library – November 1991 13538 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1023 lei  18-26 zile
  Simon & Brown – 15 Nov 2018 14062 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1088 lei  18-26 zile
  1st World Publishing – 22 Jul 2013 14785 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1524 lei  18-26 zile
  15933 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1576 lei  18-26 zile
  1st World Library – 16487 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +1698 lei  18-26 zile
  TREDITION CLASSICS – December 2012 18900 lei  Economic 3-5 săpt. +2130 lei  18-26 zile
  CHIZINE PUBN – 26 Aug 2015 14947 lei  Economic 17-24 zile
  Blurb – 09 Jan 2019 18886 lei  Economic 38-45 zile

Din seria Penguin Modern Classics

Preț: 4752 lei

Preț vechi: 5464 lei
-13%

Puncte Express: 71

Preț estimativ în valută:
915 1065$ 772£

Carte disponibilă

Livrare economică 19 noiembrie-01 decembrie
Livrare express 28-30 octombrie pentru 2214 lei

Preluare comenzi: 021 569.72.76

Specificații

ISBN-13: 9780141182452
ISBN-10: 0141182458
Pagini: 368
Dimensiuni: 129 x 198 x 16 mm
Greutate: 0.26 kg
Editura: Penguin Books
Colecția Penguin Classics
Seria Penguin Modern Classics

Locul publicării: London, United Kingdom

Notă biografică

James Joyce (1882-1941) was born and educated in Dublin. Although he spent most of his adult life outside Ireland, Joyce's psychological and fictional universe is firmly rooted in his native Dublin, the city which provides the settings and much of the subject matter for all his fiction. He is best known for his landmark novel Ulysses (1922) and its controversial successor Finnegans Wake (1939), as well as the short story collection Dubliners (1914) and the semi-autobiographical novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916).

Textul de pe ultima copertă

Although James Joyce began these stories of Dublin life in 1904, when he was 22, and had completed them by the end of 1907, they remained unpublished until 1914 victims of Edwardian squeamishness. Their vivid, tightly focused observations of the life of Dublin's poorer classes, their unconventional themes, coarse language, and mention of actual people and places made publishers of the day reluctant to undertake sponsorship.
Today, however, the stories are admired for their intense and masterly dissection of "dear dirty Dublin," and for the economy and grace with which Joyce invested this youthful fiction. From "The Sisters," the first story, illuminating a young boy's initial encounter with death, through the final piece, "The Dead," considered a masterpiece of the form, these tales represent, as Joyce himself explained, a chapter in the moral history of Ireland that would give the Irish "one good look at themselves." But in the end the stories are not just about the Irish; they represent moments of revelation common to all people.
Now readers can enjoy all 15 stories in this inexpensive collection, which also functions as an excellent, accessible introduction to the work of one of the 20th century's most influential writers. "Dubliners" is reprinted here, complete and unabridged, from a standard edition."


Recenzii

“In Dubliners, Joyce’s first attempt to register in language and fictive form the protean complexities of the ‘reality of experience,’ he learns the paradoxical lesson that only through the most rigorous economy, only by concentrating on the minutest of particulars, can he have any hope of engaging with the immensity of the world.”–from the Introduction

“Joyce renews our apprehension of reality, strengthens our sympathy with our fellow creatures, and leaves us in awe before the mystery of created things.” –Atlantic Monthly

“It is in the prose of Dubliners that we first hear the authentic rhythms of Joyce the poet…Dubliners is, in a very real sense, the foundation of Joyce’s art. In shaping its stories, he developed that mastery of naturalistic detail and symbolic design which is the hallmark of his mature fiction.” –Robert Scholes and A. Walton Litz, authors of Dubliners: Text and Criticism

With an Introduction by John Kelly


From the Hardcover edition.

Cuprins

Dubliners Introduction
Notes on Introduction
Note on Text
The Sisters
An Encounter
Araby
Eveline
After the Race
Two Gallants
The Boarding House
A Little Cloud
Counterparts
Clay
A Painful Case
Ivy Day in the Committee Room
A Mother
Grace
The Dead

Appendix I
Appendix II
Appendix III
Notes


Extras

THE 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) and studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found 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 blind for I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a corpse. He had often said to me: "I am not long for this world," and I had thought his words idle. Now I knew they were true. Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis. It had always sounded strangely in my ears, like the word gnomon in the Euclid and the word simony in the Catechism. But now it sounded to me like the name of some maleficent and sinful being. It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.

Old Cotter was sitting at the fire, smoking, when I came downstairs to supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout he said, as if returning to some former remark of his: "No, I wouldn't say he was exactly . . . but there was something queer . . . there was something uncanny about him. I'll tell you my opinion. . . ." He began to puff at his pipe, no doubt arranging his opinion in his mind. Tiresome old fool! When we knew him first he used to be rather interesting, talking of faints and worms; but I soon grew tired of him and his endless stories about the distillery.

"I have my own theory about it," he said. "I think it was one of those . . . peculiar cases. . . . But it's 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 old friend is gone, you'll 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 the news had not interested me. My uncle explained to old Cotter.

"The youngster and he were great friends. The old chap taught him a great deal, mind you; and they say he had a great wish for him."

"God have mercy on his soul," said my aunt piously.

Old Cotter looked at me for a while. I felt that his little beady black eyes were examining me but I would not satisfy him by looking up from my plate. He returned to his pipe and finally spat rudely into the grate.

"I wouldn't like children of mine," he said, "to have too much to say to a man like that."

"How do you mean, Mr. Cotter?" asked my aunt.

"What I mean is," said old Cotter, "it's bad for children. My idea is: let a young lad run about and play with young lads of his own age and not be . . . Am I right, Jack?"

"That's my principle, too," said my uncle. "Let him learn to box his corner. That's what I'm always saying to that Rosicrucian there: take exercise. Why, when I was a nipper every morning of my life I had a cold bath, winter and summer. And that's what stands to me now. Education is all very fine and large. . . . Mr. Cotter
might take a pick of that leg of 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 it's not good for children, Mr. Cotter?" she asked.

"It's bad for children," said old Cotter, "because their minds are so impressionable. When children see things like that, you know, it has an effect..."

I crammed my mouth with stirabout for fear I might give utterance to my anger. Tiresome old red-nosed imbecile!

It was late when I fell asleep. Though I was angry with old Cotter for alluding to me as a child, I puzzled my head to extract meaning from his unfinished sentences. In the dark of my room I imagined that I saw again the heavy grey face of the paralytic. I drew the blankets over my head and tried to think of Christmas. But the grey face still followed me. It murmured; and I understood that it desired to confess something. I felt my soul receding into some pleasant and vicious region; and there again I found it waiting for me. It began to confess to me in a murmuring voice and I wondered why it smiled continually and why the lips were so moist with spittle. But then I remembered that it had died of paralysis and I felt that I too was smiling feebly as if to absolve the simoniac of his sin.

The next morning after breakfast I went down to look at the little house in Great Britain Street. It was an unassuming shop, registered under the vague name of Drapery. The drapery consisted mainly of children's bootees and umbrellas; and on ordinary days a notice used to hang in the window, saying: Umbrellas Re-covered. No notice was visible now for the shutters were up. A crape bouquet was tied to the door-knocker with ribbon. Two poor women and a telegram boy were reading the card pinned on the crape. I also approached and read:


July 1st, 1895
The Rev. James Flynn (formerly of S. Catherine's Church,
Meath Street), aged sixty-five years.
R. I. P.


The reading of the card persuaded me that he was dead and I was disturbed to find myself at check. Had he not been dead I would have gone into the little dark room behind the shop to find him sitting in his arm-chair by the fire, nearly smothered in his great-coat. Perhaps my aunt would have given me a packet of High Toast for him and this present would have roused him from his stupefied doze. It was always I who emptied the packet into his black snuff-box for his hands trembled too much to allow him to do this without spilling half the snuff about the floor. Even as he raised his large trembling hand to his nose little clouds of smoke dribbled through his fingers over the front of his coat. It may have been these constant showers of snuff which gave his ancient priestly garments their green faded look for the red handkerchief, blackened, as it always was, with the snuff-stains of a week, with which he tried to brush away the fallen grains, was quite inefficacious.

I wished to go in and look at him but I had not the courage to knock. I walked away slowly along the sunny side of the street, reading all the theatrical advertisements in the shop-windows as I went. I found it strange that neither I nor the day seemed in a mourning mood and I felt even annoyed at discovering in myself a sensation of freedom as if I had been freed from something by his death. I wondered at this for, as my uncle had said the night before, he had taught me a great deal. He had studied in the Irish college in Rome and he had taught me to pronounce Latin properly. He had told me stories about the catacombs and about Napoleon Bonaparte, and he had explained to me the meaning of the different ceremonies of the Mass and of the different vestments worn by the priest. Sometimes he had amused himself by putting difficult questions to me, asking me what one should do in certain circumstances or whether such and such sins were mortal or venial or only imperfections. His questions showed me how complex and mysterious were certain institutions of the Church which I had always regarded as the simplest acts. The duties of the priest towards the Eucharist and towards the secrecy of the confessional seemed so grave to me that I wondered how anybody had ever found in himself the courage to undertake them; and I was not surprised when he told me that the fathers of the Church had written books as thick as the Post Office Directory and as closely printed as the law notices in the newspaper, elucidating all these intricate questions. Often when I thought of this I could make no answer or only a very foolish and halting one upon which he used to smile and nod his head twice or thrice. Sometimes he used to put me through the responses of the Mass which he had made me learn by heart; and, as I pattered, he used to smile pensively and nod his head, now and then pushing huge pinches of snuff up each nostril alternately. When he smiled he used to uncover his big discoloured teeth and let his tongue lie upon his lower lip--a habit which had made me feel uneasy in the beginning of our acquaintance before I knew him well.
As I walked along in the sun I remembered old Cotter's words and tried to remember what had happened afterwards in the dream. I remembered that I had noticed long velvet curtains and a swinging lamp of antique fashion. I felt that I had been very far away, in some land where the customs were strange--in Persia, I thought. . . . But I could not remember the end of the dream.

In the evening my aunt took me with her to visit the house of mourning. It was after sunset; but the window-panes of the houses that looked to the west reflected the tawny gold of a great bank of clouds. Nannie received us in the hall; and, as it would have been unseemly to have shouted at her, my aunt shook hands with her for all. The old woman pointed upwards interrogatively and, on my aunt's nodding, proceeded to toil up the narrow staircase before us, her bowed head being scarcely above the level of the banister-rail. At the first landing she stopped and beckoned us forward encouragingly towards the open door of the dead-room. My aunt went in and the old woman, seeing that I hesitated to enter, began to beckon to me again repeatedly with her hand.

I went in on tiptoe. The room through the lace end of the blind was suffused with dusky golden light amid which the candles looked like pale thin flames. He had been coffined. Nannie gave the lead and we three knelt down at the foot of the bed. I pretended to pray but I could not gather my thoughts because the old woman's mutterings distracted me. I noticed how clumsily her skirt was hooked at the back and how the heels of her cloth boots were trodden down all to one side. The fancy came to me that the old priest was smiling as he lay there in his coffin.

But no. When we rose and went up to the head of the bed I saw that he was not smiling. There he lay, solemn and copious, vested as for the altar, his large hands loosely retaining a chalice. His face was very truculent, grey and massive, with black cavernous nostrils and circled by a scanty white fur. There was a heavy odour in the room--the flowers.

We crossed ourselves and came away. In the little room downstairs we found Eliza seated in his arm-chair in state. I groped my way towards my usual chair in the corner while Nannie went to the sideboard and brought out a decanter of sherry and some wine-glasses. She set these on the table and invited us to take a little glass of wine. Then, at her sister's bidding, she filled out the sherry into the glasses and passed them to us. She pressed me to take some cream crackers also but I declined because I thought I would make too much noise eating them. She seemed to be somewhat disappointed at my refusal and went over quietly to the sofa where she sat down behind her sister. No one spoke: we all gazed at the empty fireplace.

My aunt waited until Eliza sighed and then said: "Ah, well, he's gone to a better world."

Eliza sighed again and bowed her head in assent. My aunt fingered the stem of her wine-glass before sipping a little. "Did he . . . peacefully?" she asked.

"Oh, quite peacefully, ma'am," said Eliza. "You couldn't tell when the breath went out of him. He had a beautiful death, God be praised."

"And everything . . . ?"

"Father O'Rourke was in with him a Tuesday and anointed him and prepared him and all."

"He knew then?"

"He was quite resigned."

"He looks quite resigned," said my aunt.

"That's what the woman we had in to wash him said. She said he just looked as if he was asleep, he looked that peaceful and resigned. No one would think he'd make such a beautiful corpse."

"Yes, indeed," said my aunt.

She sipped a little more from her glass and said:

"Well, Miss Flynn, at any rate it must be a great comfort for you to know that you did all you could for him. You were both very kind to him, I must say."
Eliza smoothed her dress over her knees.

"Ah, poor James!" she said. "God knows we done all we could, as poor as we are--we wouldn't see him want anything while he was in it."

Nannie had leaned her head against the sofa-pillow and seemed about to fall asleep.

"There's poor Nannie," said Eliza, looking at her, "she's wore out. All the work we had, she and me, getting in the woman to wash him and then laying him out and then the coffin and then arranging about the Mass in the chapel. Only for Father O'Rourke I don't know what we'd done at all. It was him brought us all them flowers and them two candlesticks out of the chapel and wrote out the notice for the Freeman's General and took charge of all the papers for the cemetery and poor James's insurance."

"Wasn't that gooda of him?" said my aunt.

Eliza closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "Ah, there's no friends like the old friends," she said, "when all is said and done, no friends that a body can trust."

"Indeed, that's true," said my aunt. "And I'm sure now that he's gone to his eternal reward he won't forget you and all your kindness to him."

"Ah, poor James!" said Eliza. "He was no great trouble to us. You wouldn't hear him in the house any more than now. Still, I know he's gone and all to that. . . ."

"It's when it's all over that you'll miss him," said my aunt.

"I know that," said Eliza. "I won't be bringing him in his cup of beef-tea any more, nor you, ma'am, sending him his snuff. Ah, poor James!"

She stopped, as if she were communing with the past, and then said shrewdly:

"Mind you, I noticed there was something queer coming over him latterly. Whenever I'd bring in his soup to him there I'd find him with his breviary fallen to the floor, lying back in the chair and his mouth open."


From the Paperback edition.