Поющие в терновнике

           Cladinanoldpairofkhakishortsandnothingelse,bare-footed,hewasgoldenbrownandsilky-skinned,hisslender,boyishbodyalreadyhintingatlaterpowerinthebreadthoftheyoungsquareshoulders,thewell-developedcalfandthighmuscles,theflatbellyandnarrowhips.Hishairwasalittlelongandlooselycurly,justthebleachedcolorofDroghedagrass,hiseyesthroughabsurdlythickblacklashesintenselyblue.Helookedlikeaveryyouthfulescapedangel.

           "Hello,"saidtheboy,smiling.

           "Hello,"saidCardinalRalph,findingitimpossibletoresistthecharmofthatsmile."Whoareyou?"

           "I’mDaneO’Neill,"answeredtheboy."Whoareyou?"

           "MynameisRalphdeBricassart."

           DaneO’Neill.HewasMeggie’sboy,then.ShehadnotleftLukeO’Neillafterall,shehadgonebacktohim,bornethisbeautifulladwhomighthavebeenhis,hadhenotmarriedtheChurchfirst.HowoldhadhebeenwhenhemarriedtheChurch?Notmucholderthanthis,notverymuchmoremature.Hadhewaited,theboymightwellhavebeenhis.Whatnonsense,CardinaldeBricassart!Ifyouhadn’tmarriedtheChurchyouwouldhaveremainedinIrelandtobreedhorsesandneverknownyourfateatall,neverknownDroghedaorMeggieCleary.

           "MayIhelpyou?"askedtheboypolitely,gettingtohisfeetwithasupplegraceCardinalRalphrecognized,andthoughtofasMeggie’s.

           "Isyourfatherhere,Dane?"

           "Myfather?"Thedark,finelyetchedbrowsknitted."No,he’snothere.He’sneverbeenhere."

           "Oh,Isee.