She asked

me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It

would be a splendid bazaar, she said she would love to go.


"And why can't you?" I asked.


While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her

wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat

that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were

fighting for their caps and I was alone at the railings. She held one

of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the

lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up

her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the

railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white

border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.


"It's well for you," she said.


"If I go," I said, "I will bring you something."


What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping

thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious

intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in

my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between

me and the page I strove to read. The syllables of the word Araby

were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated

and cast an Eastern enchantment over me. I asked for leave to go

to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised and hoped

it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in

class. I watched my master's face pass from amiability to

sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my

wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the

serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my

desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play.


On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to

the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking

for the hat-brush, and answered me curtly:


"Yes, boy, I know."


As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at

the window. I left the house in bad humour and walked slowly

towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart

misgave me.


When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home.

Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and. when

its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the

staircase and gained the upper part of the house. The high cold

empty gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room

singing. From the front window I saw my companions playing

below in the street. Their cries reached me weakened and

indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked

over at the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there for

an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my

imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved

neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the

dress.


When I came downstairs again I found Mrs. Mercer sitting at the

fire. She was an old garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who

collected used stamps for some pious purpose. I had to endure the

gossip of the tea-table.