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Perhaps she had not told him all the story. His eyes moved to the chair over which she had thrown some of her clothes. A petticoat string dangled to the floor. One boot stood upright, its limp upper fallen down: the fellow of it lay upon its side. He wondered at his riot of emotions of an hour before. From what had it proceeded? From his aunt's supper, from his own foolish speech, from the wine and dancing, the merry-making when saying good-night in the hall, the pleasure of the walk along the river in the snow. Poor Aunt Julia! She, too, would soon be a shade with the shade of Patrick Morkan and his horse. He had caught that haggard look upon her face for a moment when she was singing Arrayed for the Bridal. Soon, perhaps, he would be sitting in that same drawing-room, dressed in black, his silk hat on his knees. The blinds would be drawn down and Aunt Kate would be sitting beside him, crying and blowing her nose and telling him how Julia had died. He would cast about in his mind for some words that might console her, and would find only lame and useless ones. Yes, yes: that would happen very soon. 去书内
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  • 用户718849 用户718849

    Gabriel’s wild emotions calm down into deep melancholy in this passage. He reflects on his earlier passion and realizes it arose only from trivial party excitement. Thinking of Aunt Julia’s frailty and approaching death, he contemplates the inevitability of aging and loss. This gloomy meditation breaks his personal romantic pain, broadening his sorrow into universal awareness of mortality. It reveals Joyce’s core theme: the inescapable shadow of death hovering over ordinary, warm daily life.

    2026-05-10 喜欢(0) 回复(0)

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