The Sisters

——James Joyce

詹姆斯·喬伊斯(James Joyce, 1882-1941)是20世紀最富有獨創性、影響巨大的作家。他生于愛爾蘭首都都柏林，一生顛沛流離，輾轉于的里雅斯特、羅馬、巴黎等地，多以教授英語和為報刊撰稿糊口，又飽受眼疾折磨，到晚年幾乎完全失明;但他對文學矢志不渝，勤奮寫作，終成一代巨匠。代表作為自傳體小說《青年藝術家的肖像》和長篇小說《尤利西斯》。

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."