A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Dubliners - James Joyce [185]
—I wonder where did they dig her up, said Kathleen to Miss Healy. I’m sure I never heard of her.
Miss Healy had to smile. Mr Holohan limped into the dressing- room at that moment and the two young ladies asked him who was the unknown woman. Mr Holohan said that she was Madam Glynn from London. Madam Glynn took her stand in a corner of the room, holding a roll of music stiffly before her and from time to time changing the direction of her startled gaze. The shadow took her faded dress into shelter but fell revengeflully into the little cup behind her collar-bone. The noise of the hail became more audible. The first tenor and the baritone arrived together. They were both well dressed, Stout and complacent and they brought a breath of opulence among the company.
Mrs Kearney brought her daughter over to them, and talked to them amiably. She wanted to be on good terms with them but, while she strove to be polite, her eyes followed Mr Holohan in his limping and devious courses. As soon as she could she excused herself and went out after him.
—Mr Holohan, I want to speak to you for a moment, she said.
They went down to a discreet part of the corridor. Mrs Kearney asked him when was her daughter going to be paid. Mr 1-lolohan said that Mr Fitzpatrick had charge of that. Mrs Kearney said that she didn’t know anything about Mr Fitzpatrick. Her daughter had signed a contract for eight guineas and she would have to be paid. Mr Holohan said that it wasn’t his business.
—Why isn’t it your business? asked Mrs Kearney. Didn’t you yourself bring her the contract? Anyway, if it’s not your business it’s my business and I mean to see to it.
—You’d better speak to Mr Fitzpatrick, said Mr I lolohan distantly.
—I don’t know anything about Mr Fitzpatrick, repeated Mrs Kearney. I have my contract, and I intend to see that it is carried out.
When she came back to the dressing-room her cheeks were slightly suffused. The rootn was lively. Two men in outdoor dress had taken possession of the fireplace and were chatting familiarly with Miss FIealy and the baritone. They were the Freeman manabp and Mr O’Madden Burke. The Freeman man had come in to say that he could not wait for the concert as he had to report the lecture which an American priest was giving in the Mansion House.abq He said they were to leave the report for him at the Freeman office and he would see that it went in. He was a grey-haired man, with a plausible voice and careflul manners. He held an extinguished cigar in his hand and the aroma of cigar smoke floated near him. He had not intended to stay a moment because Concerts and arfistes bored him considerably but he remained leaning against the mantelpiece. Miss Healy stood in front of him, talking and laughing. Hc was old enough to suspect one reason for her politeness but young enough in spirit to turn the moment to account. The warmth, fragrance and colour of her body appealed to his senses. He was pleasantly conscious that the bosom which he saw rise and fall slowly beneath him rose and fell at that moment for him, that the laughter and fragrance and wilfiil glances were his tribute. When he could stay no longer he took leave of her regretfully.
—O’Madden Burke will write the notice, he explained to Mr Holohan, and I’ll see it in.
—Thank you very much, Mr Hendrick, said Mr Holohan. You’ll see it in, I know. Now, won’t you have a little something before you go?
—I don’t mind, said Mr Hendrick
The two men went along some tortuous passages and up a dark staircase and came to a secluded room where one of the stewards was uncorking bottles for a few gentlemen. One of these gentlemen was Mr O’Maddcn Burke, who had found out the room by instinct. He was a suave, elderly man who balanced his imposing body, when at rest, upon a large silk umbrella. His magnioquent western name was the moral umbrella upon which he balanced the