Page 93

By Jack Joseph Smith

Delight? I asked. Yes. It means I am happy when I watch you. You say things so softly. I really mean that. I looked at her for a moment across the church, and warmed when I thought of me saying, Your eyes would turn with the stars if you danced for me. But it's alright if you don't. You are so pretty standing there. She is her grace and I see her stand in soft delight of singing praises of the Lord thy God. She is nimble with her lidded lashes, their texture deepens my vision. There my mind rests away on the stone steps in the black night with sounds of near spring, marveling at her innocence. And mine. No, I have never been all the way. Can't you tell? I am really afraid of you. You are so beautiful. Don't you know? Yes, I see in the mirror in the morning, when everyone is calling for me to hurry to school. My mind passed deap beneath my own memory saying, she walked away from herself. Every morning. I love you and want to kiss you. But you talk to her and watch her walk. Father Lonergan hates her, and now he knows you go to her house with the public school boys. She is not bad, like they say. And we don't touch or anything. We are just friends. He said her mother was evil. When he said that, what did you think? I thought of leaving the Mass with my friends. He would have killed you. I know.

Original Scan

Page 93

AI Interpretation

GPT

The church-side longing deepens into whispered talk about delight, innocence, kissing, public-school boys, and Father Lonergan's judgment of another girl and her mother, making young desire feel both tender and punishable.

The page keeps swinging between prayerful stillness and private speech, which gives the crush a strange sacramental heat. Even the softest lines are shadowed by discipline: Father Lonergan hates the other girl and calls her mother evil.

Claude

The exchange tips toward confession on both sides: 'No, I have never been all the way. Can't you tell? I am really afraid of you.' He answers her watching with his own watching - 'Your eyes would turn with the stars if you danced for me' - while a colder undercurrent surfaces, 'she walked away from herself. Every morning.' Father Lonergan's hatred of the other girl's 'evil' mother hangs over the talk, and the boy admits he 'thought of leaving the Mass with my friends,' loyalty and faith pulling opposite ways even inside the love scene.