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Dubliners
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
would
n'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
.
"
"
Who
?
"
said
I.
"
Father
Flynn
.
"
