amesJoyce
NorthRichmondStreet，beingblind，wasaquietstreetexcetatthehourwhentheChristianBrothers&aos;Schoolsettheboysfree.Anuninhabitedhouseoftwostoreysstoodattheblindend，detachedfromitsneighboursinasquareground.Theotherhousesofthestreet，consciousofdecentliveswithinthem，gazedatoneanotherwithbrownimerturbablefaces.
Theformertenantofourhouse，ariest，haddiedinthebackdrawing-rooAir，mustyfromhavingbeenlongenclosed，hunginalltherooms，andthewasteroombehindthekitchenwaslitteredwitholduselessaers.AmongtheseIfoundafewaer-coveredbooks，theagesofwhichwerecurledanddam:TheAbbot，byWalterScott，TheDevoutCommunicant，andTheMemoirsofVidocq.Ilikedthelastbestbecauseitsleaveswereyellow.Thewildgardenbehindthehousecontainedacentralale-treeandafewstragglingbushes，underoneofwhichIfoundthelatetenant&aos;srustybicycle-uHehadbeenaverycharitableriest;inhiswillhehadleftallhismoneytoinstitutionsandthefurnitureofhishousetohissister.
Whentheshortdaysofwintercameduskfellbeforewehadwelleatenourdinners.Whenwemetinthestreetthehouseshadgrownsombre.Thesaceofskyaboveuswasthecolourofever-changingvioletandtowardsitthelamsofthestreetliftedtheirfeeblelanterns.Thecoldairstungusandwelayedtillourbodiesglowed.Ourshoutsechoedinthesilentstreet.Thecareerofourlaybroughtusthroughthedarkmuddylanesbehindthehouseswhereweranthegauntletoftheroughtribesfromthecottages，tothebackdoorsofthedarkdriinggardenswhereodoursarosefromtheashits，tothedarkodorousstableswhereacoachmansmoothedandcombedthehorseorshookmusicfromthebuckledharness.Whenwereturnedtothestreet，lightfromthekitchenwindowshadfilledtheareas.Ifmyunclewasseenturningthecorner，wehidintheshadowuntilwehadseenhimsafelyhoused.OrifMangan&aos;ssistercameoutonthedoorstetocallherbrotherintohistea，wewatchedherfromourshadoweeruanddownthestreet.Wewaitedtoseewhethershewouldremainorgoinand，ifsheremained，weleftourshadowandwalkedutoMangan&aos;sstesresignedly.Shewaswaitingforus，herfiguredefinedbythelightfromthehalf-oeneddoor.Herbrotheralwaysteasedherbeforeheobeyed，andIstoodbytherailingslookingather.Herdressswungasshemovedherbody，andthesoftroeofherhairtossedfromsidetoside.
EverymorningIlayonthefloorinthefrontarlourwatchingherdoor.TheblindwasulleddowntowithinaninchofthesashsothatIcouldnotbeseen.Whenshecameoutonthedoorstemyheartleaed.Irantothehall，seizedmybooksandfollowedher.Iketherbrownfigurealwaysinmyeyeand，whenwecameneartheointatwhichourwaysdiverged，Iquickenedmyaceandassedher.Thishaenedmorningaftermorning.Ihadneversokentoher，excetforafewcasualwords，andyethernamewaslikeasummonstoallmyfoolishblood.
Herimageaccomaniedmeeveninlacesthemosthostiletoromance.OnSaturdayeveningswhenmyauntwentmarketingIhadtogotocarrysomeofthearcels.Wewalkedthroughtheflaringstreets，jostledbydrunkenmenandbargainingwomen，amidthecursesoflabourers，theshrilllitaniesofsho-boyswhostoodonguardbythebarrelsofigs&aos;cheeks，thenasalchantingofstreet-singers，whosangacome-all-youaboutO&aos;DonovanRossa，oraballadaboutthetroublesinournativeland.Thesenoisesconvergedinasinglesensationoflifeforme:IimaginedthatIboremychalicesafelythroughathrongoffoes.HernamesrangtomylisatmomentsinstrangerayersandraiseswhichImyselfdidnotunderstand.Myeyeswereoftenfulloftears（Icouldnottellwhy）andattimesafloodfrommyheartseemedtoouritselfoutintomybosoIthoughtlittleofthefuture.IdidnotknowwhetherIwouldeverseaktoherornotor，ifIsoketoher，howIcouldtellherofmyconfusedadoration.Butmybodywaslikeaharandherwordsandgestureswerelikefingersrunninguonthewires.
OneeveningIwentintothebackdrawing-roominwhichtheriesthaddied.Itwasadarkrainyeveningandtherewasnosoundinthehouse.ThroughoneofthebrokenanesIheardtherainimingeuontheearth，thefineincessantneedlesofwaterlayinginthesoddenbeds.Somedistantlamorlightedwindowgleamedbelowme.IwasthankfulthatIcouldseesolittle.Allmysensesseemedtodesiretoveilthemselvesand，feelingthatIwasabouttoslifromthem，Iressedthealmsofmyhandstogetheruntiltheytrembled，murmuring:&aos;Olove!Olove!&aos;manytimes.
Atlastshesoketome.WhensheaddressedthefirstwordstomeIwassoconfusedthatIdidnotknowwhattoanswer.SheaskedmewasIgoingtoAraby.IforgotwhetherIansweredyesorno.Itwouldbeaslendidbazaar;shesaidshewouldlovetogo.
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Andwhycan&aos;tyou?
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Iasked.
Whileshesokesheturnedasilverbraceletroundandroundherwrist.Shecouldnotgo，shesaid，becausetherewouldbearetreatthatweekinherconvent.Herbrotherandtwootherboyswerefightingfortheircas，andIwasaloneattherailings.Sheheldoneofthesikes，bowingherheadtowardsme.Thelightfromthelamoositeourdoorcaughtthewhitecurveofherneck，lituherhairthatrestedthereand，falling，lituthehanduontherailing.Itfelloveronesideofherdressandcaughtthewhiteborderofaetticoat，justvisibleasshestoodatease.
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It&aos;swellforyou，
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shesaid.
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IfIgo，
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Isaid，
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Iwillbringyousomething.
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Whatinnumerablefollieslaidwastemywakingandsleeingthoughtsafterthatevening!Iwishedtoannihilatethetediousinterveningdays.Ichafedagainsttheworkofschool.AtnightinmybedroomandbydayintheclassroomherimagecamebetweenmeandtheageIstrovetoread.ThesyllablesofthewordArabywerecalledtomethroughthesilenceinwhichmysoulluxuriatedandcastanEasternenchantmentoverme.IaskedforleavetogotothebazaaronSaturdaynight.Myauntwassurrised，andhoeditwasnotsomeFreemasonaffair.Iansweredfewquestionsinclass.Iwatchedmymaster&aos;sfaceassfromamiabilitytosternness;hehoedIwasnotbeginningtoidle.Icouldnotcallmywanderingthoughtstogether.Ihadhardlyanyatiencewiththeseriousworkoflifewhich，nowthatitstoodbetweenmeandmydesire，seemedtomechild&aos;slay，uglymonotonouschild&aos;slay.
OnSaturdaymorningIremindedmyunclethatIwishedtogotothebazaarintheevening.Hewasfussingatthehallstand，lookingforthehat-brush，andansweredmecurtly:
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Yes，boy，Iknow.
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AshewasinthehallIcouldnotgointothefrontarlourandlieatthewindow.Ifeltthehouseinbadhumourandwalkedslowlytowardstheschool.Theairwasitilesslyrawandalreadymyheartmisgaveme.
WhenIcamehometodinnermyunclehadnotyetbeenhome.Stillitwasearly.Isatstaringattheclockforsometimeand，whenitstickingbegantoirritateme，IlefttherooImountedthestaircaseandgainedtheuerartofthehouse.Thehigh，cold，emty，gloomyroomsliberatedmeandIwentfromroomtoroomsinging.FromthefrontwindowIsawmycomanionslayingbelowinthestreet.Theircriesreachedmeweakenedandindistinctand，leaningmyforeheadagainstthecoolglass，Ilookedoveratthedarkhousewhereshelived.Imayhavestoodthereforanhour，seeingnothingbutthebrown-cladfigurecastbymyimagination，toucheddiscreetlybythelamlightatthecurvedneck，atthehanduontherailingsandattheborderbelowthedress.
WhenIcamedownstairsagainIfoundMrsMercersittingatthefire.Shewasanold，garrulouswoman，aawnbroker&aos;swidow，whocollectedusedstamsforsomeiousurose.Ihadtoendurethegossiofthetea-table.Themealwasrolongedbeyondanhourandstillmyuncledidnotcome.MrsMercerstoodutogo:shewassorryshecouldn&aos;twaitanylonger，butitwasaftereighto&aos;clockandsedidnotliketobeoutlate，asthenightairwasbadforher.WhenshehadgoneIbegantowalkuanddowntheroom，clenchingmyfists.Myauntsaid:
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I&aos;mafraidyoumayutoffyourbazaarforthisnightofOurLord.
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Atnineo&aos;clockIheardmyuncle&aos;slatchkeyinthehalldoor.Iheardhimtalkingtohimselfandheardthehallstandrockingwhenithadreceivedtheweightofhisovercoat.Icouldinterretthesesigns.WhenhewasmidwaythroughhisdinnerIaskedhimtogivemethemoneytogotothebazaar.Hehadforgotten.
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Theeoleareinbedandaftertheirfirstsleenow，
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