Chapter 14 Chapter 10 2

He was reading the title of another book: The Pleasure of Cheating.This would be more to her liking.Take a look. He turned to a page at random and read: She spent the dollar bills her husband gave her on the gorgeous gowns and frilly skirts that were in the shop.for him! for Raoul[122]! right.Just this one.How? Try it. Her mouth clings to the ground's mouth, and kisses obscenely; The son put his hands into her skirt to stroke her plump curves. right.Just this one.It ends with: "You're late," he said in a hoarse voice, staring at her with blazing suspicion. The beauty took off her fringed raccoon fur cloak and threw it aside, revealing her queen-like shoulders and her plump body.She turned towards him serenely, with a faint smile on her extremely lovely lips.

Mr. Bloom read it again, the beauty... A warm current quietly permeated his whole body, deterring his flesh.Inside the crumpled clothes, the flesh surrendered completely.The whites of his eyes rolled up like he was fascinated.His nostrils arched as if looking for prey.The ointment on the breast (for him! for Raoul!) melted.The sweat under his armpits smelled like onions.Isinglass-like slime (her undulating plump charm!) Touch it! Press it! Smash it! The sulfur-scented dung of two lions! Youth! Youth! An elderly woman, no longer young, was pacing from the building shared by the Grand Court, High Court, Revenue Court and High Civil Court.She had just attended the case of Porton's insanity in the court presided over by the Lord Chancellor; heard the appeal of the owners of the "Mrs. pleading; in the Court of Appeal, heard the court's decision to stay the case of Harvey v. Marine Casualty Insurance Company.

A phlegmatic cough echoed in the air of the bookstall, shaking the filthy curtains in the filthy place.The stall owner came out coughing.His gray head was uncombed, his flushed face unshaven.He cleared his throat roughly and spat sticky phlegm on the floor.Then, he stretched out his boots to step on what he spit out, and bent down, rubbing it with the soles of his boots.In this way, his baldness with few hairs left is exposed. Mr Bloom saw it. Suppressing his nausea, he said: "I want this one." The stall owner raised his eyes, which were blurred by the accumulation of eye mucus.

"The Pleasures of an Infidelity," he said, tapping the book, "it's a good book." * * * The clerk standing by the door of Dillon's Auction House rang the bell twice more and took a look at his face in the chalked-out wardrobe mirror. Dilly Dedalus, who was on the curb, heard the bell ringing and the auctioneer yelling inside.Four shillings nine.Those lovely curtains.Five shillings.Comfortable curtains.The new one is worth two guineas.Is there any more five shillings? Five shillings are sold. The man raised his hand bell and shook it: "Clang!" When the bell rang for the final lap, the riders of the half mile [123] sprinted. J. A. Jackson, W. E. Wylie, A. Munro, and H. T. Garn, all craned their necks, swayed from side to side, and galloped deftly around the bend next to the college library.

Mr. Dedalus, stroking his long mustache, turned the corner from Williams Street.He stopped beside his daughter. "It was just in time," she said. "Please, stand up straight," said Mr Dedalus, "do you want to keep your head on your shoulders like your cornet-playing Uncle John? Look at you! " Dilly shrugged.Mr. Dedalus put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back. "Stand up straight, girl," he said, "or you'll get scoliosis. Do you know what you look like?" He suddenly lowered his head, stretched forward, arched his shoulders, and lowered his jaw.

"Come on, Daddy," said Dilly, "everybody's looking at you." Mr. Dedalus straightened up and stroked his mustache again. "Did you get any money?" Dilly asked. "Where can I get money?" said Mr. Dedalus. "No one will lend me fourpence in Dublin." "You must have got some," Dilly said, looking him in the eyes. "How do you know?" said Mr. Dedalus, putting his tongue against his cheek. Mr. Kernan [125] was strutting down James Street, proud of the order he had secured. "I know you got it," replied Dilly, "you were at the Scotch just now, weren't you?"

"I didn't go," Mr. Dedalus said with a smile, "Is it those little nuns who taught you to be so naughty? Take it." He handed her a shilling. "See what it's good for you," he said. "I reckon you got five shillings," said Dilly, "give me some more." "Wait a minute," said Mr. Dedalus menacingly, "you're the same as those guys, aren't you? You've been a bunch of ignorant little bitches since your poor mother died. Well. But wait and see. Sooner or later I'll get rid of you all. Dirty words! I'll get rid of you. Even if I stiffen my legs, you won't do anything. Say: 'He dies Well, the guy upstairs died.'”

He left her and walked on.Dilly followed quickly, grabbing him by the jacket. "Hey, what are you doing?" He stopped and said. The guy rings the bell behind them. "Clang clang!" "God damn you noisy bastard!" Mr. Dedalus yelled, turning on him. The chap, realizing that the words were directed at him, shook the drooping bell very lightly. "when!" Mr. Dedalus gave him a hard look. "Look at this man," he said, "that's interesting. I wonder if he'll let us talk." "Papa, you got more money than that," said Dilly.

"I'll show you a little trick," said Mr. Dedalus, "that I'll leave you lot as Jesus left the Jews. [126] See, there's only so much I've got. I got two shillings from Jack Bauer, and I shaved for twopence for the funeral." Embarrassedly, he pulled out a handful of copper coins. "Can't you find some money somewhere?" said Dilly. Mr. Dedalus pondered for a while, then nodded. "Well," he said earnestly, "I found my way along the open channel in O'Connell Street. I'll try this street again now." "You're so funny," said Dilly, grinning her teeth.

"Here," said Mr. Dedalus, handing her twopence, "go and get a glass of milk, and a bun or something. I'll be home in a minute." He put the other coins back in his pocket and walked on. The Governor's caravan passed through the park gates under the groveling salute of the police. "You must have a shilling left," said Dilly. The man rang the bell loudly. Mr. Dedalus walked away amidst the uproar.He pursed his lips and muttered softly, "Little nuns! Funny little girls! Oh, they won't help! Oh, they sure won't! It's little Sister Monica!"

* * * Mr. Kernan walked from the sundial to the James Gate, very proud of his order from Poolbrooke Robertson, and strutted down James Street past the Shackleton Flour office.At last he was persuaded.How are you, Mr. Crimmins[128]? Very well, sir.I am also worried that you have gone to another company in Pinlico.How is business? Just make ends meet.What a beautiful day it is.is not it.It couldn't be better for the countryside.Those peasants are always whining.Give me a little of your good gin, Mr Crimmins.A shot of gin, sir? Yes, sir. The explosion on the General Slocum[129] was terrible.Terrible, terrible! A thousand people were killed or injured.It was a horrible scene.Some men trample women and dolls under their feet.It's just a beast.What did they say about the cause of the accident? It was an automatic explosion.What came to light was astounding.There was not a single lifeboat on the water, and the hoses were all broken.I just don't understand how the surveyors allowed a ship like that... Well, you're right, Mr. Crimmins.Do you know the inside story? I paid a bribe.Is it true? Without a doubt.Well, look.He also said that America is a free country.I thought it was only our place that was bad. I [130] smiled at him. "America," I said serenely like this, "what's that? It's garbage from all over the world, including mine. Isn't that what it is?" And it is. Corruption, my dear sir.Well, of course, as long as money is turning around, someone is bound to get it. I caught him looking at my frock coat.People rely on clothes.Nothing matters more than decent attire.able to hold them down. "How do you do, Simon," said Father Cowley, "how have you been?" "Hello, Bob, old chap," replied Mr. Dedalus, stopping. Mr Kernan groomed himself in front of the tilted mirror of Peter Kennedy, the barber.There is no doubt that this is a stylish top.Scott of Dawson Street [132].I paid Nyali half a pound, and it was well worth it.If you order one, you need at least three guineas.It can be worn anywhere.It probably belonged to some dandy from the Kildare Street Club[133] at first.Yesterday on Carlisle Bridge, John Mulligan, manager of the Bank of Ireland, gave me a sharp look as if he recognized me. Hey! You have to dress well in front of these people.Road Rider [134].gentleman.That's it, Mr. Crimmins, hope to continue to patronize in the future.As the saying goes, it is a drink that refreshes without intoxicating[135]. The North Embankment and Sir John Rogerson's Wharf with its hulls and chains of anchors; a leaflet—a flier crumpled and thrown, tossed and tossed in the wake of the ferry, Drifted west. "Elijah is dead."[137] Mr. Kernan looked at himself in the mirror and felt sorry for himself.Dark and red, of course.Gray mustache.He looked like an officer who had returned from serving in India.With his arms up and his feet wearing shoe covers, he moved his short and thick body masculinely.That man across the road is Ned Lambert's brother Sam? Why? Yes.It's really like him.No, it's the windshield of that car under the sun over there, flashing like that.Just like him. Hey! The juniper liquor warmed his insides and his breath.That makes for a good gin.Fat and fat, he walked swaggeringly, and his tuxedo shone in the scorching sun with his steps. Emmett [138] was hanged in the front place, gutted and dismembered.Greasy, dark rope.Dogs were licking blood in the street when the governor's wife passed by in her hansom. [139] It was an era of rampant evil.Forget it, forget it.It's over, it's finally over.They're all big drunks again.Each can drink four bottles. I think about it.Was he buried in St. Michael's? Oh no, Glasnevin was buried once in the middle of the night.The body was brought in through a secret door in the wall.Dignam is there now.Like being swept away by a gust of wind.oops.It's better to turn a corner here.Take a detour. Mr. Kernan turned away.From the corner of the Guinness Brewing Company reception room, walk downhill on Watling Boulevard.Outside the premises of the Dublin Brewing Company stood a touring coach,[140] without passengers or handlebars, with the reins attached to the wheels.It's so dangerous to do so.Some fool from Tipperary must be joking with the lives of the townspeople.What if the horse gets out of the rein? Dennis Breen waited an hour at John Henry Menton's office with his two large volumes between them.Then he got bored and walked over O'Connell Bridge with his wife and went straight to the law firm of Cowles & Ward. Mr. Kernan was near Island Street.It was eventful.Had to borrow the memoirs of Sir Jonah Barrington from Ned Lambert.Looking back, the memoir puts everything in order when you read the memoir.Gambling at the Daly's Club.Cheating at poker was not in the mood at the time.One of the guys had his hand nailed to the card table with a dagger.It was about here that Lord Edward Fitzgerald[143] threw off Major Sale and fled.The Stables behind Moira's House [144]. That juniper is a fine drink. That is a handsome noble son.Of course it is from a famous family.The villain, the false country gentleman in the violet gloves, had betrayed him.Of course they were on the wrong side.They stood up in dark and evil days.That's a good poem, by Ingram[145].They are gentlemen.That ballad Ben Dollard sang was really touching.A seamless performance. In the siege of Ross, my father died bravely. [146] A group of carriages and horses walked leisurely along the Pembroke Pier[147], and the guards on the horses surrounded the vehicles, bumping and bumping on their saddles.big dress.Bright yellow dry umbrella. Mr. Kernan hurried on, out of breath. Your Excellency! It's terrible! Just missed.Damn it!What a pity! * * * Through the barbed-wire window Stephen Dedalus watched the jeweler's fingers examine a chain worn black by time.Dust covered the windows and display trays like silk screens.The industrious fingers, with their nails like eagle's talons, were also darkened by the dust.Plates of dull bronze and silver threads, lozenges of cinnabar, ruby, and scaly and crimson gems were covered with thick dust. These are all produced in the dark and creeping earthworm soil.Icy particles of flame, hoodoos, glow in the dark.Fallen archangels drop here the stars on their brows.The pig's nose and hands full of mud, they were arched and dug, and they were tightly grasped and struggled to get into the hands. Here, the rubber burns with the garlic.In the darkness, she danced lightly.A sailor with an auburn beard, sipping cachaça from a tall glass, stared at her.The long sailing career unwittingly aroused his lust.She danced and danced, twisting her sow-like haunches and hips.Egg-shaped rubies dangled on the fat belly. Old Russell wiped the gemstone again with a stained piece of chamois, twirled it around, and held it up to the tip of his long Moses beard to look at it.Grandpa Monkey stared greedily at the stolen treasure. [149] And what of you who dug out ancient images from the graveyard? Sophist's delirium: Antisthenes.Knowledge that cannot be sold.Radiant and immortal wheat, from eternity to eternity. [150] Two old women[151] have just been blown by a wind that smells of tide.They trudged along London Bridge Road through the Irish Quarter, one holding a battered sandy umbrella, the other a midwife's bag with eleven clams rolling in it. The crackle of belts spinning from the power station and the rumble of generators urged Stephen on his way.lifeless life.Wait a minute! That endless pulsation of the outside world and this endless pulsation of the inside. [152] It is your heart that you sing.I am between them? Where? Between two noisy, whirling worlds - me.Just smash them and forget it, smash both.But punch me down and knock me out too.Whoever has the strength, just smash me to pieces.He is both a bustard and a butcher. [153] Wait a minute! I can't decide yet.Look around and talk. Yes, that's true.Great, great, very on time. [154] You are right, sir.on Monday morning.Exactly exactly. [155] Stephen struck his shoulder blades with the handle of his ash stick as he walked down Bedford Side Street.A faded engraving from the 1860s in the window of Crothesy's bookstore caught his eye.It was Cena vs. Sayers boxing match[156].Cheerleaders in top hats stood staring wide-eyed around the roped-off ring.Two heavyweight boxers in tight panties extended their bulbous fists softly toward each other.Yet they—the hearts of heroes—are beating. He turned around and stood down in front of the slanted book cart. "One for twopence," said the stall-keeper, "four for sixpence." The net is some tattered. The Irish Beekeeper [157], The Biography and Miracles of the Priest of Arce [158], The Killarney Guidebook. Might be able to find a copy here of a prize I got at school and then pawned.Class Award: Awarded to honor student Stephen Dedalus. [159] Father Conmi had finished his nine o'clock reading, and murmured his evening prayers as he walked through the small village of Donikani. The binding seems to be too particular. What kind of book is this? The eighth and ninth volumes of the Book of Moses. [160] King David's Royal Seal[161].There are still thumb marks on the pages, where it must have been read over and over again.Who passed here before me? How to soften chapped hands.The secret recipe for making vinegar from white wine.How to win a woman's love.This works for me.Put your palms together and say the following mantra three times: A little paradise for women blessed by God! Please love me only! Holy! O men![162] Who wrote this? The incantations and prayers of the holiest abbot Peter Saranka[163], published to all faithful men and women.Better than the incantations of any abbot, such as the babbled Joachim.Come down, bald dipper, or you will have your hair plucked. [164] "What are you doing here, Stephen?" Dilly's high shoulders and shaggy dress. Close the book quickly, and don't let her see it. "What are you doing?" Stephen said. The most prominent Charlie-like Stuart[165] face, with long straight hair falling to the shoulders.Her cheeks flushed as she crouched down and stuffed her broken boots into the fire for fuel.I told her about Paris.She liked to lie in bed and sleep late, throwing a few old coats as a quilt, and fondling a souvenir from Dan Kelly—a gold brass bracelet.God bless women. "What are you holding?" Stephen asked. "I got it off the other car for a penny," said Dilly, smiling timidly. "Is it worth seeing?" People say that her eyes look exactly like mine.In the eyes of others, am I like this?Quick, trance-like, and resolute.The shadow of my soul. He took the book with the cover off from her hand.Chardonnay's French Primer. "Why did you buy it?" he asked. "Want to learn French?" She nodded, blushing, and pursed her lips tightly. Don't look surprised.It was very natural. "Here you are," said Stephen, "that's all right. Be careful not to pawn off Maggie. I've probably run out of books." "Part of it," said Dilly, "we had to." She was drowning.inner censure.save her.inner censure.Everything is against us.She would have me drown with her, eyes and hair.Long soft seaweed hair wraps around me, my heart, my soul.Salty green death. us. inner censure.The heart is harsh. distressed!distressed! * * * "Hello, Simon," said Father Cowley, "how are you?" "Hello, Bob, old chap," replied Mr. Dedalus, stopping. They shook hands noisily outside Reddy's.Father Cowley clasped the backs of his hands and stroked his mustache downwards frequently. "What's the best news?" asked Mr. Dedalus. "It's no big deal," said Father Cowley. "I'm besieged, Simon, with two men hanging around my house, trying desperately to break in." "Funny," said Mr. Dedalus, "who ordered it?" "Oh," said Father Cowley, "a usurper we know." "That hunchback, isn't it?" asked Mr. Dedalus. "That's him," replied Father Cowley, "the Reuben of that nation. I'm waiting for Ben Dollard. He's going to say hello to Long John and ask him to take the two Personal dismissal. I just ask for a grace period." He looked up and down the pier in dazed anticipation, his large Adam's apple protruding from his neck. "I see," said Mr. Dedalus, nodding, "poor old bow-legged Ben! He has always done good things for people.Hold onto Ben! " He put on his glasses and glanced at the iron bridge. "Here he comes," he said, "yes, with his ass and his pocket." Ben Dollard, in a loose blue frock coat, a top hat, and baggy trousers, came striding across the pier from the iron bridge.As he strolled towards them, he scratched vigorously at the part covered by the hem of his jacket. As he approached, Mr. Dedalus greeted and said: "Catch this guy with the bad pants on." "Catch it now," Ben Dollard said. Mr. Dedalus examined Ben Dollard from head to toe with a cold eye, then, turning to Father Cowley, he nodded and muttered ironically: "It's quite pretty in summer, isn't it?" "Hmph, may your soul be punished forever," Ben Dollard roared furiously: "I lost more clothes than you've ever seen." He stood beside them, looking first at them, then at his own baggy clothes with delighted eyes.Mr. Dedalus, brushing the fluff here and there from his coat, said: "Anyway, Ben, this suit is for a strong, able-bodied man." "Damn the Jew who made the clothes," said Ben Dollard, "thank God he hasn't been paid yet." "How's your lowest note [168], Benjamin?" asked Father Cowley. Cashel Foyle O'Connell Fitzmaurice Tisdale Farrell strode past the Kildare Street Club, wearing spectacles and mumbling words. Ben Dollard frowned, and suddenly uttered a deep note in the lead singer's mouth shape. "Oh!" he said. "That's the tone," said Mr. Dedalus, nodding his approval at the monotonous bass. "How is it?" said Ben Dollard. "Not bad, is it? How is it?" He turned to face them both. "All right," said Father Cowley, nodding also. Hugh C.Father Love walked from the old chapel of St. Mary's Abbey, accompanied by the tall and handsome members of the Geraldine family, past the James and Charlie Kennedy Synthesis Distillery, across the fenced ferry, towards Solcell. go. [169] Ben Dollard leaned his heavy body toward the row of shop fronts, gesticulating happily in the air with his fingers, leading them on. "Come with me to the deputy magistrate's office," he said, "and I'll open your eyes to the handsome man Roque [177] has newly appointed bailiff. That fellow is Robengula A mix with Lynchhorne. You listen, he's worth a look. Come on. I just ran into John Henry Menton at Bodega. Unless I... wait a minute... I'm going to stumble. We're on the right track, Bob, trust me." "Tell him it's only a few days," said Father Cowley, worriedly. Ben Dollard stopped, his eyes widened, and he opened his mouth loudly. In order to hear more clearly, he stretched out his hand to remove the thick gum on his eyes.At this moment, a button of the coat was hanging from the only thread left, swinging and swinging, showing the shiny back. "How many days?" He asked loudly, "Didn't your landlord seize your belongings to pay the rent?" "Isn't it," said Father Cowley. "Then our friend's summons is worth less than the paper on which it was printed," said Ben Dollard. "The landlord has priority. I gave him all the details. 29 Wenzel Street , is your surname Love?" "Yes," said Father Cowley, "Father Love. He's preaching somewhere in the country. But are you sure of that?" "You can tell Barabbas for me," said Ben Dollard, "that he'd better keep that summons away like a monkey keeps his nuts away." He led Father Cowley forward bravely, as if chaining him to his bulk. "I believe it's hazelnuts," said Mr. Dedalus, letting his pince-nez droop on his jacket, and following them. * * * "The little ones are always well settled," Martin Cunningham said as they stepped out the gates of the castle grounds. The policeman gave a show of hands. "Good job," said Martin Cunningham cheerfully. He beckoned to the waiting coachman, who shook the reins and drove straight into Lord Edward Street. Exposing next to Blonde, Miss Kennedy's head next to Miss Douce's, both at the top of the half-curtain at the Ormond Hotel. [174] "Yes," said Martin Cunningham, running his fingers through his beard, "I wrote to Father Conmee and told him all." "You might try it with our friend," suggested Mr. Power timidly. "Boyd?" said Martin Cunningham dryly. "Forget it." John Wise Nolan lagged behind to look at the list, then hurried up the descent of Mount Cork. On the steps in front of the city hall, City Councilor Nanniti, who was walking down, greeted City Senator Cowley and City Councilor Abraham Leon, who were walking up. The cars of the Governor's Palace rolled into Exchange Street empty. "Well, Martin," said John Wise Nolan, who caught up with them at the door of the Post Office, "I see Bloom pledging five shilling miles at once." "Exactly!" said Martin Cunningham, taking the list, "and sold the five shillings on the spot." "And without saying a word," Mr. Ball said. "It's incredible, but it's true," added Martin Cunningham. John Wise's eyes widened in surprise. "I don't think the Jew has a bad heart," he quoted gracefully. They walked down Parliament Street. "Look, there's Jimmy Henry," said Mr. Power, "he's walking toward Kavanagh's bar." "Certainly," said Martin Cunningham, "go!" Outside Claire's house, Blazes Boylan intercepts Jack Mooney's brother-in-law[178]—the sinewy man walking drunkenly toward the Free Zone. John Wise Nolan and Mr. Power lagged behind, while Martin Cunningham took the arm of a neat, dapper man in a dark, speckled suit who was staggering with rapid steps. Staggering past Mickey Anderson's clock shop. "The under-secretary[179] had corns on his feet that did him a little bit of trouble," John Wise Nolan told Mr Power. They followed around the corner to James Kavanagh's tavern.The empty car of the Governor's Palace was just ahead of them, parked in the Essex gate.Martin Cunningham kept talking, opening the list frequently, but Jimmy Henry dismissed it. "Tall John Fanning is here," said John Wise Nolan, "indeed." Tall John Fanning stood in the doorway, his colossal mass blocking up the entire passage. "How do you do, Mr. Deputy Chief," said Martin Cunningham, when they stopped to say hello. Tall John Fanning did not make way for them.Resolutely he removed the large stick of Henry Clay that was in his mouth, and his large stern eyes glared intelligently into the faces of each of them. "Members of the Legislative Assembly are still negotiating calmly?" He said to the Deputy Secretary-General in a sarcastic tone. Jimmy Henry impatient, he said, give them that damned Irish[181] Hell rips open for Christians. [182] He would have liked to know where on earth the Marshal had gone,[183] ​​why he hadn't come to keep order in the council hall.And the old Barlow who held the scepter fell ill due to an asthma attack.There was no scepter on the table, the order was in chaos, and there was not even a quorum.Mayor Hutchinson is at Llandudno[184], with little Lokan Sherrock acting as his temporary agent[185].Damn Irish, the language of our ancestors. Tall John Fanning exhaled a plume of smoke from between his lips. Martin Cunningham twitched the tip of his beard, chatting up the Deputy Secretary-General and the Deputy Chief in turn, while John Wise Nolan kept silent. "What's that Dignam's name?" asked the tall John Fanning. Jimmy Henry raised his left foot morosely. "Oh, my corns!" he begged. "Please, let's go upstairs and talk, so I can find a place to sit. Uh! Oh! Be careful!" He squeezed nervously past tall John Fanning and up the stairs. "Come on," said Martin Cunningham to the lieutenant. "You probably don't know him, but perhaps you do." Mr. Power went in with John Wise Nolan. Tall John Fanning was walking up the stairs toward Tall John Fanning reflected in the mirror.Mr Power said of the burly figure: "He used to be a little nice guy." "Quite small. That Dignam of Menton's," said Martin Cunningham. Tall John Fanning couldn't remember him. There was the clatter of horseshoes outside. "What is it?" said Martin Cunningham. Everyone turned around on the spot.John Wise Nolan went down again.From the shade of the doorway he saw the procession of horses passing Parliament Street, their harnesses and smooth feet gleaming in the sun.They passed happily under his cold and unfriendly gaze.The leading horse hopped and galloped forward, and the attendants who led the way rode on the saddle. "What's the matter?" asked Martin Cunningham, as they re-entered the stairs. "That's Lieutenant-General--My Lord Governor of Ireland," replied John Wise Nolan from the foot of the stairs. * * * Buck Mulligan whispered to Haines in the shade of his Panama hat as they walked across the thick carpet: "Look, Bagnere's brother. There, in the corner." They chose a small table by the window, facing a long-faced man—his beard and eyes focused on the chessboard. "Is that the one?" Haines asked, turning around in his seat. "Yes," said Mulligan, "that's his brother, John Howard, our ceremonial officer." John Howard Parnell moved a white bishop silently, then raised the gray paw to support the forehead.In an instant, under the cover of his palm, his eyes flashed with a demonic light, he glanced at his opponent briefly, and looked down again at the corner of the fierce battle. "I'd like an order of muesli," Haines said to the waitress. "Two servings of muesli," said Buck Mulligan, "and some scones and butter and some pastry for us." After she left, he smiled and said: "We call this a lousy company because they serve lousy pastries[188]. Well, it's a pity you didn't hear Dedalus's Hamlet." Haines opened his new book. "It's a pity," he said, "that Shakespeare is a most delightful hunting ground for all those whose minds are out of balance[189]." The one-legged sailor shouted to the clearing in front of the basement of 14 Nelson Street: Britain looks forward to... Buck Mulligan laughed so hard that his pale yellow waistcoat quivered with joy. "I want you to see it," he said, "the way his body is off balance. I call him Unsteady Angus[191] )." "I believe he has a fixed idea," said Haynes, pinching his chin thoughtfully between thumb and forefinger, "and I'm trying to figure out what that means right now. That's the way people are." Buck Mulligan leaned gravely across the table. "Visions about Hell," he said, "confounded his train of thought. He could never catch the tone of ancient Greece. The tone of Swinburne among all those poets--pale death and scarlet birth[193]. This is his tragedy. He will never be a poet.[194] The joy of creation..." "Endless punishment," said Haines, with a careless nod, "I see. I argued with him about faith this morning. I could tell he had something on his mind. Funny, because there's problem, Professor Pokorny[195] of Vienna puts forward an interesting point." Buck Mulligan's quick eyes noticed the waitress coming.He helped her unload the tray. “他在古代爱尔兰神话中找不到地狱的痕迹，”海恩斯边快活地饮着酒边说，“好像缺乏道德观念、宿命感、因果报应意识。有点儿不可思议的是，他偏偏有这么个固定观念。他为你们的运动写些文章吗？” 他把两块方糖灵巧地侧着放进起着泡沫的奶油里。勃克·穆利根将一个冒着热气的烤饼掰成两半，往热气腾腾的饼心里涂满了黄油，狼吞虎咽地咬了一口松软的饼心。 “十年，”他边嚼边笑着说，“十年之内，他一定要写出点什么。”[196] “好像挺遥远的，”海恩斯若有所思地举起羹匙说，“不过，我并不怀疑他终究会写得出来的。” 他舀了一匙子杯中那圆锥形的奶油，品尝了一下。 “我相信这是真正的爱尔兰奶油，”他以容忍的口吻说，“我可不愿意上当。” 以利亚这叶小舟，揉成一团丢掉的轻飘飘的传单，向东航行，沿着一艘艘海轮和拖网渔船的侧腹驶去。它从群岛般的软木浮子[197]当中穿行，将新瓦平街甩在后面[198]，经过本森渡口，并擦过从布里奇沃特运砖来的罗斯韦恩号三桅纵帆船。[199] ＊ ＊ ＊ 阿尔米达诺·阿蒂弗尼踱过霍利斯街，踱过休厄尔场院。跟在他后面的是卡什尔·博伊尔·奥康内尔·菲茨莫里斯·蒂斯代尔·法雷尔，夹在腑下的防尘罩衣、拐杖和雨伞晃荡着。他避开劳·史密斯先生家门前的路灯，穿过街道，沿着梅里恩方场走去。远远地在他后头，一个盲青年正贴着学院校园的围墙，轻敲着地面摸索前行。 卡什尔·博伊尔·奥康内尔·菲茨莫里斯·蒂斯代尔·法雷尔一直走到刘易斯·沃纳先生那快乐的窗下，随后掉转身，跨大步沿着梅里恩方场折回来。一路上晃荡着风衣、拐杖和雨伞。 他在王尔德商号拐角处站住了，朝着张贴在大都市会堂的以利亚[200]这个名字皱了皱眉，又朝远处公爵草坪上的游园地皱了皱眉。镜片在阳光的反射下，他又皱了皱眉。他龇出老鼠般的牙齿，嘟囔道： “我是被迫首肯的。”[201] 他咬牙切齿地咀嚼着这句愤慨的话语，大步流星地向克莱尔街走去。 当他路过布卢姆[202] 先生的牙科诊所窗前时，他那晃晃荡荡的风衣粗暴地蹭着一根正斜敲着探路的细手杖，继续朝前冲去，撞上了一个赢弱的身躯。 盲青年将带着病容的脸掉向他那扬长而去的背影。 “天打雷劈的，”他愠怒他说，“不管你是谁，你总比我还瞎呢，你这婊子养的杂种！”[203] ＊ ＊ ＊ 在拉基·奥多诺荷律师事务所对面，少年帕特里克·阿洛伊修斯·迪格纳穆手里摸着家里打发他从曼根的店（原先是费伦巴克的店）买来的一磅半猪排，在暖洋洋的威克洛街上不急不忙地溜达着。跟斯托尔太太、奎格利太太和麦克道尔太太一道坐在客厅里，太厌烦无聊了；百叶窗拉得严严实实的，她们全部抽着鼻子，一点点地啜饮着巴尼舅舅从膝尼[204] 的店里取来的黄褐色上等雪利酒。她们吃着乡村风味果仁糕饼的碎屑，靠磨嘴皮子来消磨讨厌的光阴，唉声叹气着。 走过威克洛巷后，来到多伊尔夫人朝服女帽头饰店的橱窗前。他停下了脚步，站在那儿，望着窗里两个裸体拳师向对方屈臂伸出拳头。两个身穿孝服的少年迪格纳穆，从两侧的镜子里，一声不响地张口呆看。都柏林的宠儿迈勒·基奥跟贝内特军士长——贝洛港的职业拳击家[205] 较量，奖金五十英镑。嘿，这场比赛好带劲儿，有瞧头！迈勒·基奥就是这个腰系绿色饰带迎面扑来的汉子。门票两先令，军人减半。我蛮可以把妈糊弄过去。当他转过身时，左边的少年迪格纳穆也跟着转。那就是穿孝服的我喽。when?五月二十二号。当然，这讨厌的比赛总算全过去啦。他转向右边，右面的少年迪格纳穆也转了过来：歪戴行便帽，硬领翘了起来。他抬起下巴，把领口扣平，就瞅见两个拳师旁边还有玛丽·肯德尔（专演风骚角色的妩媚女演员）的肖像。斯托尔抽的纸烟盒子上就印着这号娘儿们。有一回他正抽着，给他老爹撞见了，狠狠地揍了他一顿 少年迪格纳穆把领口扣平贴了之后，又溜溜达达往前走。菲茨西蒙斯是天下最有力气的拳击手了。要是那家伙嗖地朝你的腰上来一拳，就得叫你躺到下星期，不含糊！可是论技巧，最棒的拳击手还要数詹姆·科贝特[206]。但是不论他怎样躲闪，终于还是被菲茨西蒙斯揍扁了。 在格拉夫顿街，少年迪格纳穆瞥见一条装束如时的男人嘴里叼着红花，还有他穿的那条漂亮的长裤。他正在倾听着一个酒鬼的唠叨，一个劲儿地咧嘴笑着。 没有驶往沙丘的电车。 少年迪格纳穆将猪排换到另一只手里，沿着纳索街前行。他的领子又翘了起来，他使劲往下掖了掖。这讨厌的钮扣比衬衫上的扣眼小得多，所以才这么别扭。他碰见一群背书包的学童们。连明天我都不上学，一直缺课到星期一。他又遇到了另外一些学童。他们可曾理会我戴着孝？巴尼舅舅说，今儿晚上他就要登在报上。那么他们就统统可以在报上看到了。讣告上将印着我的名字，还有爹的。 他的脸整个儿变成灰色的了，不像往日那样红润。一只苍蝇在上面爬，一直爬到眼睛上。在往棺材里拧螺丝的时候，只听到嘎吱嘎吱的响声。把棺材抬下楼梯的当儿，又发出咕咚咕咚的声音。 爹躺在里面，而妈呢，在客厅里哭哪。巴尼舅舅正在关照抬棺的人怎样拐弯。老大一口棺材，高而且沉重。How did it happen?最后那个晚上爹喝得醉醺醺的。他站在楼梯平台那儿，喊人给他拿靴子；他要到滕尼的店里去再灌上几杯。他只穿了件衬衫，看上去又矬又矮，像一只酒桶。可那以后就再也看不见他了。死亡就是这样的。爹死啦。我父亲死了。他嘱咐我要当妈的乖儿子。他还说了些旁的话，我没听清，可我看得出他的舌头和牙在试着把话说得清楚一些。可怜的爹。那就是迪格纳穆先生，我的父亲。但愿眼下他在炼狱里哪，因为星期六晚上他找康罗伊神父做过忏悔。 ＊ ＊ ＊ 达德利伯爵威廉·亨勃尔[207]和达德利夫人用完午膳，就在赫塞尔廷中校伴随下，从总督府乘车外出。跟随在后面的那辆马车里坐着尊贵的佩吉特太太、德库西小组和侍从副官尊贵的杰拉尔德·沃德。 这支车队从凤凰公园南大门出来，一路受到卑恭屈膝的警察的敬礼。跨过国王桥[208] ，沿着北岸码头走去。总督经过这座大都会时，到处都受到极其热烈的欢迎。在血泊桥[209] 畔，托马斯·克南先生从河对岸徒劳地遥遥向他致敬。达德利爵爷的总督府车队打王后桥与惠特沃思桥[210] 之间穿行时，从法学学士、文学硕士达特利·怀特先生身边走过。此公却没向他致敬，只是伫立在阿伦街西角ME 怀特太太那爿当铺外面的阿伦码头上，用食指抚摩着鼻子。为了及早抵达菲布斯巴勒街，他拿不定主意究竟是该换三次电车呢，还是雇一辆马车；要么就步行，穿过史密斯菲尔德、宪法山和布洛德斯通终点站。在高等法院的门廊里，里奇·古尔丁正夹着古尔丁一科利斯一沃德律师事务所的帐目公文包，见到他有些吃惊。跨过里奇蒙桥之后，在爱国保险公司代理人吕便·杰·多德律师事务所门口台阶上，一位上了年纪的妇女正要走进去，却又改变了主意。她沿着王记商号的橱窗折回来，对国王陛下的代表投以轻信的微笑。伍德码头堤岸的水闸就在汤姆·德万事务所的下边，波德尔河从这里耷拉着一条效忠的污水舌头。在奥蒙德饭店的半截儿窗帘上端，褐色挨着金色；肯尼迪小姐的头挨着杜丝小姐的头，正一道儿在注视井欣赏着。在奥蒙德码头上，刚好从公共厕所走向副长官办事处的西蒙·迪达勒斯先生，就在街心止步，脱帽深打一躬。总督阁下谦和地向迪达勒斯先生还了礼。文学硕士休·C。洛夫神父从卡希尔印刷厂的拐角处施了一礼，总督却不曾理会。洛夫念念不忘的是：有俸圣职推举权从前都掌握在宽厚的代理国王的诸侯手中。在格拉但桥上，利内翰和麦科伊正在一边相互告别，一边望着马车经过。格蒂·麦克道维尔[211] 替她那缠绵病榻的父亲取来凯茨比公司关于软木亚麻油毡的函件，正走过罗杰·格林律师事务所和多拉德印刷厂的大红厂房。从那气派，她晓得那就是总督夫妇了，却看不到夫人究竟怎样打扮，因为一辆电车和斯普林家具店的一辆大型黄色家具搬运车给总督大人让道，刚好停在她跟前。伦迪·福特烟草店再过去，从卡瓦纳酒吧那被遮住的门口，约翰·怀斯·诺兰朝着国王陛下的代表、爱尔兰总督阁下淡然一笑，但是无人目睹到其神情之冷漠。维多利亚大十字勋章佩带者、达德利伯爵威廉·亨勃尔大人一路走过米基·安德森店里那众多嘀嘀嗒嗒响个不停的钟表，以及亨利- 詹姆斯那些衣着时髦、脸蛋儿鲜艳的蜡制模特儿——绅士亨利与最潇洒的詹姆斯。[212] 汤姆·罗赤福特和大鼻子弗林面对着戴姆大门，观看车队渐渐走近。汤姆·罗赤福特发现达德利夫人两眼盯着他，就连忙把插在紫红色背心兜里的两个大拇指伸出来，摘下便帽给她深打一躬。专演风骚角色的妩媚女演员——杰出的玛丽·肯德尔，脸颊上浓妆艳抹，撩起裙子，从海报上朝着达德利伯爵威廉·亨勃尔，也朝着H·G·赫塞尔廷中校，还朝着侍从副官、尊贵的杰拉尔德·沃德嫣然笑着。神色愉快的勃克·穆利根和表情严肃的海恩斯，隔着那些全神贯注的顾客们的肩膀，从都柏林面包公司的窗口定睛俯视着。簇拥在窗口的形影遮住了约翰·霍华德·巴涅尔的视线。而他正专心致志地注视着棋盘。在弗恩斯街上，迪丽·迪达勒斯从她那本夏登纳尔的《法语初级读本》抬起眼睛使劲往四下里望，一把把撑开来的遮阳伞以及在眩目的阳光下一些旋转着的车轱辘辐条映入眼帘。约翰·亨利·门侧堵在商业大厦门口，瞪着一双用酒浸大了般的牡蛎眼睛，肥肥的左手搽着一块厚实的双盖金表[213]，他并不看表，对它也无所察觉，在比利王的坐骑[214] 抬起前蹄抓挠虚空的地方，布林太太一把拽回她丈夫——他差点儿匆匆地冲到骑马侍从的马蹄底下。她对着他的耳朵大声把这消息嚷给他听。他明白了，于是就把那两本大书挪到左胸前，向第二辆马车致敬。这出乎侍从副官尊贵的杰拉尔德·沃德的意外，就赶忙欣然还礼。在庞森比书店的拐角处，精疲力竭的白色大肚酒瓶H站住了，四个戴高帽子的白色大肚酒瓶——EL Y'S[215] ，也在他身后停下脚步。骑在马上的侍从们拥着车辆，神气十足地打他们跟前奔驰而去。在皮戈特公司乐器栈房对面，舞蹈等课程的教师丹尼斯·杰·马金尼先生被总督赶在前头。后者却不曾理会他那花里胡哨的服装和端庄的步履。沿着学院院长住宅的围墙，布莱泽斯·博伊兰洋洋得意地踩着乐曲《我的意中人是位约克郡姑娘》[216]迭句的节拍走来。——他脚登棕黄色皮鞋，短袜跟上还绣着天蓝色的花纹。先导马缀着天蓝色额饰，一副趾高气扬的样子；布莱泽斯·博伊兰则向它们夸示自己这条天蓝色领带、这顶放荡地歪戴着的宽檐草帽和身上穿的这套靛青色哔叽衣服。他双手揣在上衣兜里，忘记行礼了，却向三位淑女大胆献出赞美的目光和他唇间所衔的那朵红花。当车队驶经纳索街的时候，总督大人提醒他那位正在点头还礼的伴侣去留意学院校园中正在演奏着的音乐节目。不见形影的高原小伙子们正肆无忌惮地[217] 用嘟嘟嘟的铜号声和咚咚咚的鼓声为车队行列送行： 她虽是工厂姑娘， 并不穿花哨衣裳， 吧啦嘣。 我以约克郡口味， 对约克郡小玫瑰， 倒怀有一种偏爱， 吧啦嘣。 围墙里面，四分之一英里平路障碍赛[218] 的参加者MC格林、H. 施里夫特、TM 帕蒂、C. 斯凯夫J．B杰夫斯、GN 莫菲、F. 斯蒂文森、C. 阿德利和w. C. 哈葛德开始了角逐。正跨着大步从芬恩饭店前经过的卡什尔·傅伊尔·奥康内尔·菲茨莫里斯·蒂斯代尔·法雷尔隔着单片眼镜射出来的凶恶目光，越过那些马车，凝视着奥匈帝国副领事馆窗内ME 所罗门斯[ 219] 先生那颗脑袋。在莱因斯特街深处，三一学院的后门旁边，保王派霍恩布洛尔手扶嗬嗬帽[220] 。当那些皮毛光润的马从梅里恩广场上奔驰而过的时候，等在那儿的少年帕特里克·阿洛伊修斯·迪格纳穆瞧见人们都向那位头戴大礼帽的绅士致敬，就也用自己那只被猪排包装纸弄得满是油腻的手，举起黑色新便帽。他的领子也翘了起来。为默塞尔医院募款的迈勒斯义卖会[221] 快要开始了，总督率领着随从们驰向下蒙特街，前往主持开幕式。他在布洛德本特那家店铺对面，从一个年轻盲人身边走过。在下蒙特街，一个身穿棕色胶布雨衣的行人[222] ，边啃着没有抹黄油的面包，边从总督的车马前面迅速地穿过马路，没磕也没碰着。在皇家运河桥头，广告牌上的尤金·斯特拉顿先生咧着厚厚嘴唇，对一切前来彭布罗克区[223]的人都笑脸相迎。在哈丁顿路口，两个浑身是沙子的女人停下脚步，手执雨伞和里面滚动着十一只蛤蜊的提包；她们倒要瞧瞧没挂金链条的市长[224] 大人和市长夫人是个啥样。在诺森伯兰和兰斯多恩两条路上，总督大人郑重其事地对那些向他致敬的人们一一回礼；其中包括稀稀拉拉的男性行人，站在一栋房子的花园门前的两个小学童——据说一八四九年已故女工[225] 偕丈夫前来访问爱尔兰首府时，这座房子承蒙她深表赞赏。还有被一扇正在关闭着的门所吞没的、穿着厚实长裤的阿尔米达诺·阿尔蒂弗尼的敬礼。