Two Brave Young Men

by James Joyce


The grey warm August evening had fallen on the city and a mild air, a memory of summer, filled the streets. The streets swarmed with a brightly coloured crowd, which sent up into the warm evening an unchanging and constant murmur.

Two young men came down the hill. One of them was just finishing a long monologue. The other, who walked on the edge of the path and had, at times, to step into the road because of his friend's lack of consideration, seemed amused. He was short, round and ruddy. His eyes, sparkling with enjoyment, glanced at every moment at his friend's face. Once or twice he re-arranged the light coat which he had thrown over one shoulder. His cap, his white shoes and the coat carelessly hanging over his shoulder suggested youth. But his figure was full and round at the waist, he did not have much hair and what was left of it was already grey, and his face, when he wasn't laughing, had a tired look.

When he was quite sure that the story had ended, he laughed noiselessly for fully half a minute.

He became serious and silent when he stopped. His tongue was tired because he'd been talking all the afternoon in a pub. Most people considered Lenehan a leech but, in spite of this reputation, his cleverness and eloquence always prevented his friends from ganging up on him. He had a brave way of coming up to a group of them in a bar and standing at the edge until he was included in a round. He had a vast stock of stories and jokes. He did not seem to notice all kinds of discourtesy. No-one knew how he earned his living, but his name was vaguely associated with horse racing.

"And where did you pick her up, Corley?" he asked.

Corley ran his tongue quickly along his upper lip.

"One night, man," he said, "I was walking along and I spotted a fine girl and said good evening, you know. So we went for a walk round by the canal and she told me she was a servant in some rich man's house. I put my arm round her and touched her a bit that night.

"Then the next Sunday, man, I met her by arrangement. I took her into a field. She told me she used to be friends with a grocer... It was fine, man. She'd bring me cigarettes and pay the tram there and back. And one night she brought me two bloody fine cigars – the real ones, you know, that her boss used to smoke.... I was afraid, man, she'd get pregnant. But she knows how to avoid that."

"Maybe she thinks you'll marry her," said Lenehan.

"I told her I was out of a job," said Corley. "She doesn't know my name. I was too clever to tell her that. But she thinks I'm a bit classy, you know."

Lenehan laughed again, noiselessly.

Corley's big body made his friend take a few light steps from the path to the road and back again. He walked with his hands by his sides, holding himself straight and moving his head from side to side. His head was large and oily; it sweated in all weathers. He always stared straight ahead of him as if he were in the army and, when he wanted to look at someone in the street, he had to move his body from the hips.

At present he was out of work. Whenever any position was vacant, a friend was always ready to let him know and put in a good word for him. He was often seen walking with policemen, talking earnestly – his father was a police inspector. He knew more about most subjects than his friends and was fond of making judgments. He spoke without listening to others. His conversation was mainly about himself, what he had said to such a person and what such a person had said to him and what he had said to decide the matter.

Lenehan offered his friend a cigarette. As the two young men walked on through the crowd, Corley occasionally turned to smile at some of the passing girls but Lenehan's gaze was fixed on the large faint moon. He watched the passing of a grey shadow across its face. At length he said:

"Well... tell me, Corley, I suppose you'll be able to pull it off alright?"

Corley closed one eye as an answer.

"Is she ready for that?" asked Lenehan dubiously. "You can never know women."

"She's all right," said Corley. "I know the way to get around her, man. She's a bit gone on me. Take my word for it."

"From one who has tried them all," said Lenehan.

"First I used to go with girls, you know," said Corley, as if he were confiding; "I used to take them out, man, on the tram somewhere and pay the fare or take them to a band or a play at the theatre or buy them chocolate and sweets or something like that. I used to spend good money on them," he added, as if he thought he might not be believed.

But Lenehan could believe it; he nodded seriously.

"I know that game and it's a fool's game. And I never got anything out of it," said Corley.

"Ditto," said Lenehan.

"Only from one of them," said Corley.

He licked his upper lip. The memory brightened his eyes. He gazed at the pale moon and seemed to meditate.

"She was... alright," he said regretfully.

He was silent again. Then he added:

"There were others at her before me," said Corley philosophically.

This time Lenehan seemed to disbelieve him. He shook his head and smiled.

"You know you can't fool me, Corley," he said.

"Honest to God!" said Corley. "She told me herself."

As they passed outside Trinity College, Lenehan jumped into the road and looked up at the clock.

"Twenty after," he said.

"Time enough," said Corley. "She'll be there. I always let her wait a bit."

Lenehan laughed quietly.

'Corley, you know how to treat them," he said.

"I know all their little tricks," Corley agreed.

"But tell me," said Lenehan again, "are you sure you can manage it? You know it's not easy. Eh? ..."

His bright, small eyes searched his companion's face.

"I'll manage it," he said. "Leave it to me, can't you?"

Lenehan said no more. He did not wish to annoy his friend, to be told that his advice was not wanted. A little tact was necessary. But Corley was soon happy again. His thoughts were running another way.

"She's a decent girl," he said, with appreciation; "that's what she is."

The two young men walked up the street without speaking. The noise of trams, the lights and the crowd released them from their silence.

"There she is!" said Corley.

At the corner, a young woman was standing. She wore a blue dress and a white hat. She stood on the pavement, swinging an umbrella in one hand. Lenehan grew lively.

"Let's have a look at her, Corley," he said. "I don't want an introduction. All I want is to have a look at her."

"Oh... A look at her?" said Corley. "Well... I'll tell you what. I'll go over and talk to her and you can pass by."

"Right!" said Lenehan.

Corley was already walking away when Lenehan called out:

"And after? Where will we meet?"

"Half past ten," answered Corley, bringing over his other leg.

"Where?"

"Corner of Main Street. We'll be coming back."

"Make sure it works now," said Lenehan as a goodbye.

Corley did not answer. He walked across the road, full of confidence, moving his head from side to side. His easy pace and the solid sound of his boots had something of the conqueror in them. He approached the young woman and, without saying hello, began at once to chat with her. Once or twice when he spoke to her, she laughed and bent her head.

Lenehan observed them for a few minutes. Then he walked rapidly along behind them at some distance and crossed the road. He found the air heavily perfumed and his eyes took in every detail of the young woman's appearance. She had her best Sunday clothes on. Lenehan's eyes noted approvingly her strong, short muscular body. Good health glowed in her face, on her fat red cheeks and in her unashamed blue eyes. Her face was open and easy to read. She had a broad nose, a lazy mouth which stayed open in a self-satisfied smile, and two projecting front teeth. As he passed, Lenehan took off his cap out of politeness and, after about ten seconds, Corley did the same.

Lenehan walked as far as the hotel where he stopped and waited. After a little time, he saw them coming towards him and, when they turned to the right, he followed them, stepping lightly in his white shoes. As he walked on slowly, timing his pace to theirs, he watched Corley's head which turned at every moment towards the young woman's face. He kept the pair in view until he had seen them climbing the stairs of the tram; then he turned around and went back the way he had come.

Now that he was alone, his face looked older. His cheerfulness vanished. He walked aimlessly. Though his eyes took note of many things in the crowd, they did so miserably. He found everything trivial that was meant to please him and did not answer the glances of people he knew. He would have to speak a great deal, to invent and to amuse and his brain and throat were too dry for such a task.

The problem of how he could pass the hours till he met Corley again troubled him a little. He could think of no way of spending them except to keep on walking. He turned and felt more comfortable in the dark quiet street – it suited his mood. He paused at last before the window of a poor-looking shop. Some cut meat lay on a great blue dish. He eyed this food eagerly for some time and then, after glancing carefully up and down the street, went into the shop quickly.

He was hungry because he had eaten nothing since breakfast-time except a few biscuits. He sat down at an uncovered wooden table opposite two work-girls and a mechanic.

"How much is a plate of peas?" he asked.

"Three halfpence, sir," said the girl.

"Bring me a plate of peas," he said, "and a bottle of ginger soda."

He spoke roughly to show that he belonged in the poor place, despite his smart clothes, as his entrance had been followed by a pause in the talk going on. His face was heated. To appear natural he pushed his cap back on his head and put his elbows on the table. The mechanic and the two work-girls examined him point by point before starting their conversation again in low voices. The girl brought him a plate of hot peas, a fork and his ginger soda. He ate his food greedily and found it so good that he made a note of the shop. When he had eaten all the peas, he slowly drank his ginger soda and sat for some time thinking of Corley's adventure.

In his imagination he watched the pair of lovers walking along some dark road. This vision made him feel his own poverty. He was tired of doing nothing, always having to run for every penny. He would be thirty-one in November. Would he never get a good job? Would he never have a home of his own? He thought how pleasant it would be to have a warm fire to sit by and a good dinner to sit down to. He had walked the streets long enough with friends and with girls. He knew what those friends were worth: he knew the girls too. Experience had made him bitter against the world. But not all hope had left him. He felt better after eating than he had felt before, less tired of his life. He might still be able to settle down and live happily if he could only come across some good simple-minded girl with a little money.

He paid twopence halfpenny to the waitress and went out of the shop to begin wandering again. He met two friends of his and stopped to chat with them. He was glad he could rest from all his walking. His friends asked him if he'd seen Corley and what was the latest. He replied that he had spent the day with Corley. His friends talked very little. They looked vacantly at some figures in the crowd and sometimes made a critical remark. One said that he had seen Mac an hour before. At this Lenehan said that he had been with Mac the night before at a pub. The young man who had seen Mac asked was it true that Mac had won a bit on a billiards match. Lenehan did not know.

He left his friends at a quarter to ten. The crowd of girls and young men had thinned and on his way up the street he heard many groups and couples saying good-night to one another. He went quickly, hurrying in case Corley should return too soon. When he reached the same corner as he'd left Corley, he stood in the shadow of a lamp and brought out one of the cigarettes which he had saved and lit it. He leaned against the lamp-post and kept his gaze fixed on the area from which he expected to see Corley and the young woman return.

His mind became active again. He wondered if Corley had managed it successfully. He wondered if he had asked her yet or if he would leave it to the end. He suffered all the fears of his friend's situation as well as his own. But he was sure Corley would pull it off alright. The idea struck him that perhaps Corley had seen her home another way and lost him. His eyes searched the street: there was no sign of them. Would Corley do a thing like that? He lit his last cigarette and began to smoke it nervously. They must have gone home another way. His cigarette broke and he threw it into the road.

Suddenly he saw them coming towards him. He was delighted and kept close to his lamp-post, trying to read in their walk whether Corley had managed or not. They were walking quickly, the young woman taking quick short steps, while Corley kept beside her with his long step. They did not seem to be speaking. He knew Corley would fail; he knew it was not possible.

They turned down a short street and he followed them at once, taking the other path. When they stopped, he stopped too. They talked for a few moments and then the young woman went down the steps into a house. Corley remained standing at the edge of the path, a little distance from the front steps. Some minutes passed. Then the hall-door was opened slowly and cautiously. A woman came running down the front steps and coughed. Corley turned and went towards her. His broad figure hid hers from view for a few seconds and then she reappeared running up the steps. The door closed on her and Corley began to walk quickly away.

Lenehan hurried on in the same direction. Some drops of light rain fell. He took them as a warning and, glancing back towards the house which the young woman had entered to see that he was not watched, he ran across the road. Anxiety and running made him pant. He called out:

"Hallo, Corley!"

Corley turned his head to see who had called him, and then continued walking as before. Lenehan ran after him, putting his coat over his shoulders with one hand.

"Hallo, Corley!" he cried again.

He looked in his friend's face. He could see nothing there.

"Well?" he said. "Did you manage?"

Still without answering, Corley moved to the left and went up a side street. His face was relaxed. Lenehan kept walking with his friend, breathing uneasily. He was confused and a note of anger entered his voice.

"Can't you tell us?" he said. "Did you try?"

Corley stopped at the first lamp and stared in front of him. Then with a serious gesture, he held out a hand towards the light and, smiling, opened it slowly to the gaze of his follower. A small gold coin shone there.