.
219 6 / JAMES JOYCE
She went on to the window and stood there, looking out. Gabriel waited again and then, fearing that diffidence was about to conquer him, he said abruptly:
?By the way, Gretta!
?What is it?
?You know that poor fellow Malins? he said quickly.
?Yes. What about him?
?Well, poor fellow, he's a decent sort of chap after all, continued Gabriel in a false voice. He gave me back that sovereign I lent him and I didn't expect it really. It's a pity he wouldn't keep away from that Browne, because he's not a bad fellow at heart.
He was trembling now with annoyance. Why did she seem so abstracted? He did not know how he could begin. Was she annoyed, too, about something? If she would only turn to him or come to him of her own accord! To take her as she was would be brutal. No, he must see some ardour in her eyes first. He longed to be master of her strange mood.
?When did you lend him the pound? she asked, after a pause.
Gabriel strove to restrain himself from breaking out into brutal language about the sottish Malins and his pound. He longed to cry to her from his soul, to crush her body against his, to overmaster her. But he said:
?O, at Christmas, when he opened that little Christmas-card shop in Henry Street.
He was in such a fever of rage and desire that he did not hear her come from the window. She stood before him for an instant, looking at him strangely. Then, suddenly raising herself on tiptoe and resting her hands lightly on his shoulders, she kissed him.
?You are a very generous person, Gabriel, she said.
Gabriel, trembling with delight at her sudden kiss and at the quaintness of her phrase, put his hands on her hair and began smoothing it back, scarcely touching it with his fingers. The washing had made it fine and brilliant. His heart was brimming over with happiness. Just when he was wishing for it she had come to him of her own accord. Perhaps her thoughts had been running with his. Perhaps she had felt the impetuous desire that was in him and then the yielding mood had come upon her. Now that she had fallen to him so easily he wondered why he had been so diffident.
He stood, holding her head between his hands. Then, slipping one arm
swiftly about her body and drawing her towards him, he said softly:
?Gretta dear, what are you thinking about?
She did not answer nor yield wholly to his arm. He said again, softly:
?Tell me what it is, Gretta. I think I know what is the matter. Do I know?
She did not answer at once. Then she said in an outburst of tears:
?O, I am thinking about that song, The Lass of Aughrim.
She broke loose from him and ran to the bed and, throwing her arms across
the bed-rail, hid her face. Gabriel stood stock-still for a moment in astonish
ment and then followed her. As he passed in the way of the cheval-glass2 he
caught sight of himself in full length, his broad, well-filled shirt-front, the face
whose expression always puzzled him when he saw it in a mirror and his glim
mering gilt-rimmed eyeglasses. He halted a few paces from her and said:
?What about the song? Why does that make you cry?
2. Full-length mirror that can be tilted.
.
THE DEAD / 2197
She raised her head from her arms and dried her eyes with the back of her hand like a child. A kinder note than he had intended went into his voice.
?Why, Gretta? he asked.
?I am thinking about a person long ago who used to sing that song.
?And who was the person long ago? asked Gabriel, smiling.
?It was a person I used to know in Galway when I was living with my grandmother, she said.
The smile passed away from Gabriel's face. A dull anger began to gather again at the back of his mind and the dull fires of his lust began to glow angrily in his veins.
?Someone you were in love with? he asked ironically.
?It was a young boy I used to know, she answered, named Michael Furey. He used to sing that song, The Lass of Aughrim. He was very delicate.
Gabriel was silent. He did not wish her to think that he was interested in this delicate boy.
