A Little Cloud
James Joyce
Original text: Project Gutenberg · Project Gutenberg ebook #2814 UTF-8 snapshot; complete story “A Little Cloud”
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Eight years before he had seen his friend off at the North Wall and wished him godspeed. Gallaher…
Little Chandler’s thoughts ever since lunch-time had been of his meeting with Gallaher, of Gallaher’s invitation and of…
As he sat at his desk in the King’s Inns he thought what changes those eight years had…
He remembered the books of poetry upon his shelves at home. He had bought them in his bachelor…
When his hour had struck he stood up and took leave of his desk and of his fellow-clerks…
He had never been in Corless’s but he knew the value of the name. He knew that people…
He turned to the right towards Capel Street. Ignatius Gallaher on the London Press! Who would have thought…
“Half time now, boys,” he used to say light-heartedly. “Where’s my considering cap?”
That was Ignatius Gallaher all out; and, damn it, you couldn’t but admire him for it.
Little Chandler quickened his pace. For the first time in his life he felt himself superior to the…
Every step brought him nearer to London, farther from his own sober inartistic life. A light began to…
He pursued his revery so ardently that he passed his street and had to turn back. As he…
The light and noise of the bar held him at the doorways for a few moments. He looked…
“Hallo, Tommy, old hero, here you are! What is it to be? What will you have? I’m taking…
Ignatius Gallaher took off his hat and displayed a large closely cropped head. His face was heavy, pale…
“It pulls you down,” he said. “Press life. Always hurry and scurry, looking for copy and sometimes not…
Little Chandler allowed his whisky to be very much diluted.
“You don’t know what’s good for you, my boy,” said Ignatius Gallaher. “I drink mine neat.”
“I drink very little as a rule,” said Little Chandler modestly. “An odd half-one or so when I…
“Ah, well,” said Ignatius Gallaher, cheerfully, “here’s to us and to old times and old acquaintance.”
They clinked glasses and drank the toast.
“I met some of the old gang today,” said Ignatius Gallaher. “O’Hara seems to be in a bad…
“Nothing,” said Little Chandler. “He’s gone to the dogs.”
“But Hogan has a good sit, hasn’t he?”
“Yes; he’s in the Land Commission.”
“I met him one night in London and he seemed to be very flush.... Poor O’Hara! Boose, I…
“Other things, too,” said Little Chandler shortly.
Ignatius Gallaher laughed.
“Tommy,” he said, “I see you haven’t changed an atom. You’re the very same serious person that used…
“I’ve been to the Isle of Man,” said Little Chandler.
Ignatius Gallaher laughed.
“The Isle of Man!” he said. “Go to London or Paris: Paris, for choice. That’d do you good.”
“Have you seen Paris?”
“I should think I have! I’ve knocked about there a little.”
“And is it really so beautiful as they say?” asked Little Chandler.
He sipped a little of his drink while Ignatius Gallaher finished his boldly.
“Beautiful?” said Ignatius Gallaher, pausing on the word and on the flavour of his drink. “It’s not so…
Little Chandler finished his whisky and, after some trouble, succeeded in catching the barman’s eye. He ordered the…
“I’ve been to the Moulin Rouge,” Ignatius Gallaher continued when the barman had removed their glasses, “and I’ve…
Little Chandler said nothing until the barman returned with two glasses: then he touched his friend’s glass lightly…
“Everything in Paris is gay,” said Ignatius Gallaher. “They believe in enjoying life—and don’t you think they’re right?…
Little Chandler took four or five sips from his glass.
“Tell me,” he said, “is it true that Paris is so ... immoral as they say?”
Ignatius Gallaher made a catholic gesture with his right arm.
“Every place is immoral,” he said. “Of course you do find spicy bits in Paris. Go to one…
“I’ve heard of them,” said Little Chandler.
Ignatius Gallaher drank off his whisky and shook his head.
“Ah,” he said, “you may say what you like. There’s no woman like the Parisienne—for style, for go.”
“Then it is an immoral city,” said Little Chandler, with timid insistence—“I mean, compared with London or Dublin?”
“London!” said Ignatius Gallaher. “It’s six of one and half-a-dozen of the other. You ask Hogan, my boy.…
“No, really....”
“O, come on, another one won’t do you any harm. What is it? The same again, I suppose?”
“Well ... all right.”
“_François_, the same again.... Will you smoke, Tommy?”
Ignatius Gallaher produced his cigar-case. The two friends lit their cigars and puffed at them in silence until…
“I’ll tell you my opinion,” said Ignatius Gallaher, emerging after some time from the clouds of smoke in…
Ignatius Gallaher puffed thoughtfully at his cigar and then, in a calm historian’s tone, he proceeded to sketch…
“Ah, well,” said Ignatius Gallaher, “here we are in old jog-along Dublin where nothing is known of such…
“How dull you must find it,” said Little Chandler, “after all the other places you’ve seen!”
“Well,” said Ignatius Gallaher, “it’s a relaxation to come over here, you know. And, after all, it’s the…
Little Chandler blushed and smiled.
“Yes,” he said. “I was married last May twelve months.”
“I hope it’s not too late in the day to offer my best wishes,” said Ignatius Gallaher. “I…
He extended his hand, which Little Chandler took.
“Well, Tommy,” he said, “I wish you and yours every joy in life, old chap, and tons of…
“I know that,” said Little Chandler.
“Any youngsters?” said Ignatius Gallaher.
Little Chandler blushed again.
“We have one child,” he said.
“Son or daughter?”
“A little boy.”
Ignatius Gallaher slapped his friend sonorously on the back.
“Bravo,” he said, “I wouldn’t doubt you, Tommy.”
Little Chandler smiled, looked confusedly at his glass and bit his lower lip with three childishly white front…
“I hope you’ll spend an evening with us,” he said, “before you go back. My wife will be…
“Thanks awfully, old chap,” said Ignatius Gallaher, “I’m sorry we didn’t meet earlier. But I must leave tomorrow…
“Tonight, perhaps...?”
“I’m awfully sorry, old man. You see I’m over here with another fellow, clever young chap he is…
“O, in that case....”
“But who knows?” said Ignatius Gallaher considerately. “Next year I may take a little skip over here now…
“Very well,” said Little Chandler, “the next time you come we must have an evening together. That’s agreed…
“Yes, that’s agreed,” said Ignatius Gallaher. “Next year if I come, _parole d’honneur_.”
“And to clinch the bargain,” said Little Chandler, “we’ll just have one more now.”
Ignatius Gallaher took out a large gold watch and looked at it.
“Is it to be the last?” he said. “Because you know, I have an a.p.”
“O, yes, positively,” said Little Chandler.
“Very well, then,” said Ignatius Gallaher, “let us have another one as a _deoc an doruis_—that’s good vernacular…
Little Chandler ordered the drinks. The blush which had risen to his face a few moments before was…
The barman brought their drinks. Little Chandler pushed one glass towards his friend and took up the other…
“Who knows?” he said, as they lifted their glasses. “When you come next year I may have the…
Ignatius Gallaher in the act of drinking closed one eye expressively over the rim of his glass. When…
“No blooming fear of that, my boy. I’m going to have my fling first and see a bit…
“Some day you will,” said Little Chandler calmly.
Ignatius Gallaher turned his orange tie and slate-blue eyes full upon his friend.
“You think so?” he said.
“You’ll put your head in the sack,” repeated Little Chandler stoutly, “like everyone else if you can find…
He had slightly emphasised his tone and he was aware that he had betrayed himself; but, though the…
“If ever it occurs, you may bet your bottom dollar there’ll be no mooning and spooning about it.…
Little Chandler shook his head.
“Why, man alive,” said Ignatius Gallaher, vehemently, “do you know what it is? I’ve only to say the…
He tossed his glass to his mouth, finished his drink and laughed loudly. Then he looked thoughtfully before…
“But I’m in no hurry. They can wait. I don’t fancy tying myself up to one woman, you…
He imitated with his mouth the act of tasting and made a wry face.
“Must get a bit stale, I should think,” he said.
Little Chandler sat in the room off the hall, holding a child in his arms. To save money…
“Here. Don’t waken him.”
A little lamp with a white china shade stood upon the table and its light fell over a…
Hm!...
He looked coldly into the eyes of the photograph and they answered coldly. Certainly they were pretty and…
He caught himself up at the question and glanced nervously round the room. He found something mean in…
A volume of Byron’s poems lay before him on the table. He opened it cautiously with his left…
_Hushed are the winds and still the evening gloom, Not e’en a Zephyr wanders through the grove, Whilst…
He paused. He felt the rhythm of the verse about him in the room. How melancholy it was!…
The child awoke and began to cry. He turned from the page and tried to hush it: but…
_Within this narrow cell reclines her clay, That clay where once...._
It was useless. He couldn’t read. He couldn’t do anything. The wailing of the child pierced the drum…
“Stop!”
The child stopped for an instant, had a spasm of fright and began to scream. He jumped up…
The door was burst open and a young woman ran in, panting.
“What is it? What is it?” she cried.
The child, hearing its mother’s voice, broke out into a paroxysm of sobbing.
“It’s nothing, Annie ... it’s nothing.... He began to cry....”
She flung her parcels on the floor and snatched the child from him.
“What have you done to him?” she cried, glaring into his face.
Little Chandler sustained for one moment the gaze of her eyes and his heart closed together as he…
“It’s nothing.... He ... he began to cry.... I couldn’t ... I didn’t do anything.... What?”
Giving no heed to him she began to walk up and down the room, clasping the child tightly…
“My little man! My little mannie! Was ’ou frightened, love?... There now, love! There now!... Lambabaun! Mamma’s little…
Little Chandler felt his cheeks suffused with shame and he stood back out of the lamplight. He listened…