Eveline, di James Joyce

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EVELINE EVELINE di James Joyce She sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. Her head was leaned against the window curtains and in her nostrilswas the odour af dusty cretonne. She was tired. Few people passed. The man out of the last house passed on his way home; she heard his footsteps clacking along the concrete pavement and the afterwards crunching on the cinder path before the new red house. One time there used to be a field there in which they used to pley every evening with other people's children. Then a man fron Belfast bought the field and built house in it, not lijìke their little brown houses but bright brick houses with shining roofs. The children of the avenue used to play togheter in that field, the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she and her brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was too grown up. Her father used often tohunt them out of the field with his blackthorn stick; but usually little Keogh used to keep nix and call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed to have been rather happy then. Her father was not so bad then; and besides, her mother was alive. That was a long time ago; she and her brothers and sisters were all grown up, her mother was dead. Tizzie Dunn was dead, too, and the Waters had gone back to England. Everything changes. Now she was going to go away like the others, to leave her home. Home! She looked round the room, reviewing all its familiar objects which she had dusted once a week for so many years, wondering where on earth all the dust came from. Perhaps she would never see again those familiar objects from which she ahd never dreamed af being divided. And yet during all those years she had never found out the name of the priest whose yellowing photograph hung on the wall above the broken harmonium beside the coloured print of the promises made to Blessed margaret mary Alacoque. He had been a school friend of her father. Whenever he showed the photopgraph to a visitor her father used to pass it with a casual word: “He in in Melbourne now.” She had consented to go away, to leave her home. Was tah wise? She tried to weigh each side of the question. In her home anyway she had shelter and food; she had those whom she had konwn her life about her. Of couerse she had to work hard, both in the house and at business. What would they say of her in the Stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellow? Say she was a fool, perhaps: and her place would be filled up by advertisement. Miss Gavan would be glad. She had always had an edge on her, especcialy whenever there were people listening. “Miss Hill, don't you see these ladies are waiting?” “Look livery, Miss Hill, please.” She would not cry many tears at the leaving the Stores. But in her new home, in a distant unknown country, it would not be like that. Then she would be married, she Eveline.people would treat her wit respect then. She would