Chapter 8 Chapter VII

In the center of the capital of Hibnia[1] a tram slowed down in front of Nelson's Column, turned into a fork, changed the trolley, and started again, heading for Black Rock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Kronskia , Rathgar and Trennur, Palmerston Park, Upper Rathmines, Dunes Meadows, Rathmines, Lynsend and Dunes Towers and Harolds Crossing.The hoarse-voiced dispatcher of the Dublin Union Tramways roared away the trams: "Go to Rathgar and Terenur!" "The next one is going to the dune meadow!" On the right is a double-deck tram, on the left is a single-deck tram.The car body swayed, the bells jingled, and the cars started from the end of the track, turned into the downline, and drove side by side.

"Those bound for Palmerston Park, let's go! crown wearer Under the porch of the Central Post Office, the shoe shiners yelled and polished.On Prince North Street is a row of vermilion royal mail cars, with the initials E·R·[2] of Imagami Yusei marked on the sides.Bags of registered mail and stamped letters, postcards, mailboxes and parcels were all clattered onto the carts, destined either for this city or other towns, or to the British mainland or abroad. journalists Coachmen in clumsy boots rolled casks out of the Prince's Warehouse, rolled them with a dull thump, and clattered to the brewery's platform wagons.There was a dull thud-thump-thump-thump-thump of wine barrels rolled from the Prince's warehouse by coachmen in clumsy boots on the brewery's wagons.

"Here," said Red Murray, "Alexander Keyes." "Cut it out, will you, please?" said Mr. Bloom. "I'll take it to the Telegraph." The door to Rutledge's office slammed again.Little David Stephens, tightly clothed in a large cloak, with a little felt hat over his curly hair, and holding a roll of newspapers under the cloak, walked out as if he were a messenger from the king. Red Murray snapped the ad off the newspaper with long scissors.Scissors and paste. "I'm going to the printing shop," said Mr. Bloom, holding the hinged advertisement.

"Okay, if he needs a filler," Red Murray said eagerly, pinching the pen to his ear, "let's try to arrange it." "Very well," said Mr Bloom, nodding, "I'll go and see." us. Dunes of Oaklands Sir William Braden[6] Red Murray touched Mr. Bloom's arm with the pair of scissors, and whispered: "Braden." Mr. Bloom turned to see the uniformed clerk taking off his monogrammed hat.At this moment, a handsome man [7] walked between the reading columns of "Freeman's Weekly National News" and "Freeman's National News".Casks of Guinness[8] that make a dull sound.He opened the way with an umbrella, and stepped solemnly up the stairs, with a serious expression on his bearded face.His back in the high-quality suede jacket rose step by step.back.Simon Dedalus says his brains are all in the back of his neck.Ragged flesh bulges on his back.On the neck, the fat creases.Fat, neck, fat, neck.

"Don't you think he looks like our savior?" Red Murray whispered. The door to Rutledge's office creaked softly.For the sake of ventilation, they always put the two doors opposite each other.One in and one out. Our savior.The oval face with whiskers around it, talking in the twilight.Mary and Marta.Tenor singer Mario[9] probed the way with an umbrella like a sword, and came to the bare feet. "Either it's like Mario," Mr Bloom said. "Yes," agreed Red Murray, "but they say Mario looks like our savior." The red-cheeked Jesus Mario wears a tight top and has long, thin legs.He put his hand on his chest and sang in the opera "Marta":

Come back, lost you, Come back, dear you![11] Wand and pen "My lord bishop called twice this morning,"[12] Hong Muxue said with a straight face.They watched the knee, the calf, the boot disappear in turn.neck. A telegram delivery boy walked in lightly, threw a telegram on the counter, and left in a hurry after saying hello. "The Freeman!" Mr Bloom said slowly: "Here, he is also one of our saviors." He raised the counter flap, went through a side door, and walked up the warm, dark stairs and passages, past the workshops that were now echoing with noise, smiling softly all the way.However, can he save the situation of falling circulation? Bang Dang Dang.bang bang.

He pushed open the glass revolving door, went in, stepped over the scattered wrapping papers, and walked down a pathway of clanging rotary machines to Nanniti's proofreading room. Hines is here too, perhaps to settle the obituary.bang bang.bang. obituary A most venerable Dubliner has died with sincere condolences This morning the body of the late Mr Patrick Dignam.machine.If it is rolled in, it will be crushed into fine powder.now dominates the world.His [14] machine was also running vigorously.Like these machines, out of control, chaos.I kept working hard, boiling.Like that gray mouse trying desperately to get in.

How a great daily newspaper is compiled and printed Mr. Bloom paused behind the foreman's gaunt figure and admired his shiny bald head. It is strange that he has never seen the real motherland.Ireland, my country.Councilor of College Meadows.He tried his best to make the newspaper flourish as an ordinary worker. [15] The weekly relied on advertisements and various columns to increase sales, not on the stale news published in the Official Gazette.[16]Such as the official newspaper issued by the government in XX.The death of Queen Anne[17] and so on.Estate of Rosennarys Township, Barony of Tinahinch.[18]Note to those concerned: According to the official statistics, the number of mules and donkeys exported from Ballina is listed [19].Horticultural trivia [20].Comics [21].The story of Pat and Bull in the weekly series by Phil Black.Uncle Toby's special page for little dolls.Hillbilly information board.Dear Mr. Editor, is there a panacea for bloating? It's not bad to edit this column. It teaches people and learns a lot at the same time.Human tidbits. "Character" [22].Mostly photographs [23].On the Gold Coast, beauties stand tall in swimsuits.The world's largest hydrogen balloon.A pair of sisters held their wedding at the same time, double happiness.The two grooms faced each other, laughing heartily.One of them was the compositor Caplani,[24] more Irish than the Irish.

The machine was running at three-quarter beats.Bang, bang, bang.If he had a stroke in there, no one knew how to turn off the machine, and it would just keep going, printing over and over, and making a mess of it all.You really need a cool head. "Here, put this in the evening paper, Mr. Senator," Hynes said. Soon he will be called the Lord Mayor[25].It is said that Long John[26] was his backstage. The foreman did not answer.He just scrawled the word "Fu Pai" on the corner of the paper, and gestured to the typesetter.He passed the manuscript over the dirty glass partition without a word.

"Okay, thanks," Hines said, walking away. Mr Bloom blocked his way. "If you want to get your money, the cashier is on his way to lunch," he said, pointing back with his thumb. "Did you get it?" Hynes asked. "Well," said Mr. Bloom, "hurry on before there's time." "Thanks, old chap," Hines said, "I'll get it too." He rushed eagerly to the editorial offices of the Freeman. I lent him three shillings at the Mill.It's been three weeks.This is the third time to remind him. We see the touts at work Mr. Bloom put the clipping on Mr. Nannity's desk.

"Excuse me, Senator," he said, "this ad is for Case, remember?" Nanniti pondered for a moment at the ad, then nodded. "He wants to come out in July," Mr Bloom said. The foreman moved the pencil toward the clipping. "Wait a minute," said Mr. Bloom, "he wants to make a change. You know, Case, he wants to add two more keys to the top." This noise is really annoying.He can't hear you, Nannan.It takes nerves of steel.Maybe he can understand what I mean. The foreman turned and listened patiently.He raised an elbow and began to scratch slowly under the armpits of the alpaca jacket he was wearing. "Like this," said Mr. Bloom, crossing his forefingers at the top of the clipping. Let him grasp this first.Mr. Bloom, looking sideways from the cross of his fingers, saw the foreman looking sallow, and thought to himself that he must be ill.Over there, humbly large rolls were feeding large rolls of printing paper into rotary machines.Clank, clang, clang.The paper, if opened, must be miles long.What about after printing? Oh, wrapping the meat, packing it, it can be used in a thousand and one ways. Whenever there was a break in the noise, he would subtly interject a few words, and swiftly draw a pattern on the stained wooden table. House of Keys [27] "You see, here it is, here are two crossed keys[28]. Add a circle, and write here: ALEXANDER CASE, MERCHANT OF TEA, WINE AND SPIRITS AND SOMETHING." It's best not to talk too much about his business. "Senator, you yourself know what he wants. And at the top, put the letters House of Keys in a circle. Do you understand? Don't you think that's a good idea?" The foreman moved his scratching hand to the lower ribs, and scratched there again quietly. "The idea," said Mr. Bloom, "is from the House of Keys. You know, Senator, Manx House. It implies self-government. There will be tourists from the Isle of Man, you see, there will be." Striking. Can you do it?" Maybe I could ask him how to pronounce the word "voglio".But if he didn't know, it was just embarrassing him.Better not to ask. "We can do it," said the foreman, "do you have a pattern?" "I can get it," said Mr. Bloom. "It's in a paper in Kilkenny. He has a shop there too. I'll just go and ask him. Well, you can do that." Do it, attach a short paragraph, and get noticed. You know the usual way of writing: 'The store is licensed to supply premium alcohol to satisfy customers' long-term desires' or something." The foreman pondered for a moment. "We can do it," he said, "let him renew his contract with us every three months." At this time, a typesetting worker sent him a limp wool sample.He began to proofread without saying a word.Mr. Bloom stood beside him, listening to the rattle of the machine, and looking at the compositors working silently at the grid. Affix Correction He himself must spell it correctly.Proofreading is hot.Martin Cunningham forgot to give us his spelling bee puzzle this morning. "It is amusing to watch the utter bewilderment of an anxious peddler measuring the symmetry of a peeled pear under the wall of a cemetery."[30] Somewhat inexplicable, isn't it? The word was added, of course, for the sake of "shapeness". [31] I should have said thank you when he put on that top hat.I should have ripped off the old hat or something.No, I could have said, "Looks like new." I'd like to see the reaction on his face. squeak.The bottom platform of the first printing press squeaked out the paper puller, holding the first stack of newspapers folded in half.It squeaked like that to get attention, almost as if it were alive.It tried its best to speak.Even the door creaked, calling for it to be shut.Everything speaks in its own way.squeak. famous clergyman occasional contributor The foreman handed over the wool sample out of the blue and said: "Wait a minute. Where's the Archbishop's letter? Have to reprint it in the {Telegraph}. Where's that man by what name?" He looked around at the machines that only roared but did not respond. "Sir, is that Monks?" A voice in the cast universe asked. "Um. Where's Monks?" "Monks!" Mr Bloom picked up his clipping.time to go. "I'll get the pattern, then, Mr. Nannity," he said, "and I know you'll have a good place for it." "Monks!"[33] "Oh, sir." Every three months, the contract is renewed.I have to get some fresh air first.Give it a try anyway.See you in August.A good idea: the month of the Horse Show[32] at Ballsbridge.Tourists will come to the exhibition. The old foreman of the typesetting room As he walked through the typesetting room, he passed a hunched old man in glasses and an apron.That is Monks, the old foreman of the typesetting room.He must have arranged all kinds of news in his life: obituaries, hotel advertisements, speeches, divorce proceedings, salvage of the drowned.Now, it is almost the end of life.I daresay he was a steady and conscientious man, who always had some savings in the bank.The wife cooks well, and the clothes are washed clean.The daughter is stepping on the sewing machine in the living room.Jane, who is mediocre in appearance, never causes trouble. The Passover[34] has arrived He stopped and looked at a typesetter neatly separating the typefaces.You have to read it backwards.He reads very quickly.This skill is practiced.Munagdi Crete was afraid.Poor papa used to take the {Haggadah} book[35] and read it to me backwards with his fingers.Passover [36].next year in Jerusalem.Whew, oops! It's been a long time, and it's been hard.At last we were led out of the land of Egypt into the house of bondage[37].Hallelujah [38].Listen, O Israelites! The LORD is our God. [39] No, that's another story.And the twelve brethren, the sons of Jacob[40] and the lamb[41], the cat, the dog, the staff[42], the water[43] and the butcher.Then the angel of death slew the butcher, the butcher slew the bull, and the dog slew the cat[44].It sounds a bit baffling at first, but after a little more research, you will understand that this means justice: everyone is eating each other, and I am eating you.This is life after all.How fast he did it.Practice makes perfect.He seemed to be reading the manuscript with his fingers. Mr. Bloom stepped out of the clanging noise, down the corridor to the landing.Now I'm going to take the tram all the way there.Maybe we can find him.You might as well give him a call first.The number? Same as Citron's house number: twenty-eight.Two eight four four. Just one more move, that bar of soap He went down the open stairs.Who the fuck was scribbling on the wall with a match? Looks like he did it for a bet.There is always a strong smell of grease in these factories.When I stayed next door to Tom, I used to smell this lukewarm swim-bladder smell all the time. He took out his handkerchief and touched his nostrils.Citron Lemon? Ah, I also put a bar of soap in there.It will get lost in that pocket.Putting back the handkerchief, he took out the soap, stuffed it into the back pocket of his trousers, and buttoned it. What perfume does your wife wear? I still have time to take the tram home.Excuse that you forgot something.Before she changes clothes, take a look.No.here.No. There was a shrill, high-pitched laugh from the editorial offices of the Evening Telegraph.I know who that is.What's the matter? Sneak in for a while and make a phone call.That's Ned Lambert. He walked in. Erin[46], Emerald of the Silver Sea "Here comes the ghost,"[47] Professor McHugh, mouth full of biscuits, whispered toward the dusty windowpane. Mr. Dedalus looked out over the empty fireplace at Ned Lambert's sneering face, and asked bitterly: "That sucks, doesn't that make your ass feel smoky?" Ned Lambert sits at the table and reads on: "Furthermore, beware of the eddying stream of tears rushing down, struggling with the rocks blocking the way, and rushing, under the gentle westerly wind, to the choppy blue territory ruled by the god of the sea; along the way, The sun is shining brightly on the water, the moss-covered banks on both sides, and the arching leaves of the giant trees in the forest cast shadows on the brooding brook of the brook. How, Simon ?” he asked, looking from the top of the newspaper. “Excellent, isn’t it?” "He drinks in a way," said Mr. Dedalus. Laughing, Ned Lambert patted his knee with the newspaper and repeated: "Melancholic breasts and leaves covering the buttocks. It's amazing!" "Xenophon[49] overlooks Marathon[50]," said Mr. Dedalus, looking again at the fireplace and windows. "Marathon is near the sea.[51]" "Come on," said Professor McHugh from the window, "I don't want to hear that stuff again." He ate the crescent-shaped cracker, was still hungry, and was about to eat another cracker in the other hand. Literal stuff.Bragging, empty.The way I see it, Ned Lambert is going to take the day off.Whenever there was a funeral, the whole day was disrupted.People say that he has power.The Vice-Chancellor of the University, Old Chatterton, was his great-uncle or great-uncle.It is said that he is in his nineties.Perhaps the newspaper's short commentary on the bad news of the vice-principal had been prepared long ago.He had lived so long simply to make things difficult for them.Maybe he himself will die first.Make way for your uncle, Johnny[53].His Excellency Hedges Al Chatterton.Every day when the rent should be paid, the old man would use his trembling hands to sign him a check or two with strange writing.Once the old man kicks his leg, he can make a fortune.Hallelujah. "Another fit," said Ned Lambert. "What?" said Mr Bloom. "The newly discovered fragments of Cicero," replied Professor McHugh with serious air, "Our Fair Land." simple but to the point "Whose country?" asked Mr. Bloom curtly. "The question couldn't have been more to the point," the professor said while chewing, "and put an emphasis on 'whose'." "Dan Dawson's land," said Mr. Dedalus. "Referring to his speech last night?" asked Mr Bloom. Ned Lambert nodded. "Listen to this," he said. At that moment the door was pushed open, and the knob touched Mr Bloom's waist. "I'm sorry," said J. J. O'Molloy as he walked in. Mr Bloom sideways briskly. "You're welcome," he said. "Hello, Jack." "Come in, come in." "Hello." "How are you, Dedalus?" "Pretty good. How about you?" Jay Jay O'Molloy shook his head. sad Among the younger generation of lawyers, he was once the most shrewd and capable.Concomitant now, poor chap.Judging from the sickly flush on his face, this man was already terminally ill and might die at any moment.What is going on?Worry about money. "Or, if we climb the rocky peak." "You look unusually good." "Can I see the editor?" J. J. O'Molloy asked, peering into the back room. "Certainly," said Professor McHugh, "you can see him and talk. He's in his room with Lenehan." Jay Jay O'Molloy walked to the sloping desk in the office and flipped through the bound newspaper volume printed on light pink paper from back to front. Maybe he could have achieved something, but his business was neglected, he was discouraged, and he became greedy for gambling.Get into debt.Sow the wind, and reap the storm. [57] In the past, Dee and Tol Fitzgerald [58] used to pay him generous appointment defense fees.They wear wigs to show intelligence.It's like a statue sitting on Glasnevin, showing off its brains.He must have written some articles for the Express with Gabriel Conroy.This man is knowledgeable.Miles Crawford started out writing articles for The Independent.As soon as those newspapermen hear that there is an opening to take advantage of, they immediately jump to the wind and use the wind, which is really ridiculous.Hyacinth Chicken.Hot air is blowing from the mouth for a while, and cold air is blowing again for a while! [61] I don't know which one to believe.Before hearing the second story, I thought the first one was pretty good too.Violently exchanged pens in the newspapers, and then all was forgotten.In a blink of an eye, they shook hands again. "Well, please do listen," begged Ned Lambert. "Or, if we climb the rocky peak..." "Exaggeration!" interrupted the professor petulantly. "Enough of this blah blah blah!" Ned Lambert read on: "The peak stands majestically. Our souls are bathed in..." "How about foaming his mouth," said Mr. Dedalus, "and, God the Eternal, does he get paid for it?" "Bathed in the incomparable panorama of Ireland's panorama. In beauty, though celebrated models may be found in other treasures of beauty, yet our tender, mystical Ireland is incomparable in the twilight The translucent light, shining on the lush forests, the rolling fields, and the fragrant green pastures. All these are truly unique in the world..." "The moon," said Professor McHugh, "he forgot about Hamlet." his native dialect Dusk spread far and wide over the landscape, until the bright orb of the moon burst forth with its silvery brilliance... "Oh!" cried Mr. Dedalus, moaning hopelessly. "Bullshit is worthless! Enough is enough, Ned. Life is limited!" He took off his top hat, blew impatiently at his bushy moustache, and spread his fingers like a Welsh comb through his hair. Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper aside and smiled happily to himself.After a while, Professor McHugh's unshaven face with black-rimmed glasses also burst into harsh laughter. "Sandwich Bread Big Fool [64]!" he said loudly. Weatherup[65] says Now that this article is in print, it is of course possible to sarcasm it, but this kind of stuff is as popular as hot cakes just out of the oven.He's been in the bakery business, isn't he? That's why they call him "The Sandwich, the Big Fool."Anyway, he has already made enough money.The daughter is engaged to the guy from the Inland Revenue Department who owns the car.Obediently let him take the bait, and gave a big banquet to entertain and entertain him.Weatherup always said: Put them in the palm of your hand with wine and meat. The door of the inner room flung open, and in came a red face with an aquiline nose and a tuft of feathery hair like a cockscomb.A pair of blue, domineering eyes looked around them, and asked gruffly: "What's up?" "The fake squire [66] is here in person!" said Professor McHugh grandly. "Fuck you, you bloody old schoolteacher!" said the editor-in-chief, kind of greeting him. "Come on, Ned," said Mr. Dedalize, putting on his hat, "I must go and have a drink when this is over." "Drink!" exclaimed the editor-in-chief. "Don't drink anything until Mass is over." "Quite right," said Mr. Dedalus, going out. "Come on, Ned." Ned Lambert slid down against the edge of the table.The editor's blue eyes flicked to Mr. Bloom's faintly smiling face. "Are you coming with us, Miles?" Ned Lambert asked. Looking back on unforgettable battles "North Cork Volunteers!" shouted the editor, striding up to the mantelpiece. "We're on a winning streak! North Cork and Spanish officers!" "Where is it, Miles?" asked Ned Lambert, looking thoughtfully at the toes of his shoes. "In Ohio!" roared the editor. "Well, yes," agreed Ned Lambert. · As he went out he whispered to J. J. O'Molloy: "Alcohol poisoning, it's pathetic." "Ohio!" exclaimed the editor, throwing back his red face, in a high-pitched high note, "my Ohio!" "Perfect iambic steps!" said the professor. "Long, short, long." Oh, wind chime[69]! He took out a roll of interdental cleaning wire[70] from his vest pocket, tore off a length, and deftly played it between the two pairs of unbrushed teeth: "Ping-pong, ping-pong." Mr. Bloom saw the timing was right, and went to the back room. "Excuse me, Mr. Crawford," he said, "I'd like to make a phone call about an advertisement." He went in. "How about that editorial tonight?" asked Professor McHugh.He walked up to the editor-in-chief and pressed his hand firmly on his shoulder. "That'll do," said Miles Crawford more quietly. "Now, Jack, don't worry. That'll do." "Hello, Miles," said J. J. O'Molloy, and the pages of the bound volume slid limply back as soon as he let go, "Canadian Fraud[71] Is it aboard?" The phone in the back room was ringing. "Two eight...no, two zero...four four...yes." Spot the winner Lenehan came out of the inner office with a swatch of Sports. "Who wants to know which horse is going to win the Gold Cup?" he asked. "It's the 'Scepter' that O'Madden was riding." He slapped the wool sample on the table. The screams of the newsboys running barefoot down the aisle suddenly approached, and the door was flung open. "Be quiet," said Lenehan, "I hear footsteps." Professor McHugh strode over and grabbed the trembling boy by the neck, and the other children rushed out along the aisle and rushed down the stairs.The wool samples were rustled by the draft, and the blue scrawled writing floated in the air, and then fell under the table. "It wasn't me, sir. It was the big guy behind me who gave me a shove, sir." "Get him out and close the door," said the editor, "the typhoon is blowing." Lenehan started grabbing swatches off the floor, muttering twice as he squatted down. "We're waiting for the horse racing special, sir," said the newsboy. "Pat Farrell gave me a shove, sir." He pointed to the two faces peering from behind the door frame. "That's him, sir." "Get the hell out of here," said Professor McHugh roughly. He shoved the boy out indiscriminately, and slammed the door shut. J. J. O'Molloy rustled the pages of the bound volume, mumbling and searching: "Continue to the fourth column on page six." "Yes, this is the Evening Telegraph," said Mr. Bloom on the telephone from the inner office. "Where's the boss? . . . yes, the Telegraph . . . where is it? O! Which auction house?  ...Ah! I see. Yes, I shall find him." followed by a collision He had just hung up the phone when the bell rang again.He hurried into the outer room, just in time to bump into Lenehan who was straightening up after picking up the wool again. "I'm sorry, sir[73]," said Lenehan, giving Mr. Bloom a firm grip and grimacing. "It's all my fault," said Mr Bloom, allowing himself to be caught. "Didn't it hurt you? It's all my haste." "My knee," Lenehan said. He made a funny face, and while rubbing his knees, he hummed and said: "Age [74] is not forgiving." "I'm sorry," said Mr. Bloom. He went to the door, pushed it halfway open, and stopped again.J. J. O'Molloy was still turning the heavy pages.The shrill shouts of two newsboys squatting on the steps outside the gate and the sound of a harmonica echoed in the empty corridor: We are the men of Wexford, Fight with guts and arms. [75] Bloom exits "I'm going to do a Batchelor walk," said Mr. Bloom, "to get this ad for Case. Trying to get it done. I hear he's at Dillon's." He looked into their faces and hesitated for a moment.The editor-in-chief propped his head on one hand, leaned against the mantelpiece, and suddenly stretched one arm forward. "Go!" he said, "the world is ahead of you."[76] "Be back in a minute," said Bloom, hurrying out. J. J. O'Molloy took the sample from Lenehan and read it.He gently blows them away page by page, without comment. "He'll get that ad," he said, looking over the top half of the curtain through his black-rimmed spectacles. "Look, he's got a bunch of young rascals after him." "Where is it? Let me see," said Lenehan, running for the window. street ranks The two of them were smiling, looking over the half-curtain at the newsboys hopping after Mr Bloom.The last boy was flying a kite with a tail of white bows in the breeze, swinging back and forth like a mockery. "Look, the waifs yelling after him," said Lenehan. "It's funny! It's killing me. Oh, the ribs are screwed! Walk like he's flat-footed. With all kinds of little tricks, he is so clever that he can even catch a skylark." He slid past the fireplace with a quick, comical mazurka step to Jay Jay O'Molloy.O'Molloy passed the swatch into his outstretched hand. "What's the matter?" said Myles Crawford in surprise. "Where are the other two?" "Who?" said the professor, turning. "They went to the Oval for something to drink. Paddy Hooper and Jack Hall were there too. Last night of." "Come on, then," said Myles Crawford. "Where's my hat?" He stumbled into the back office, lifted the vent on the back of his vest, and took out the keys from his back pocket with a clatter.The keys rang again in mid-air, and they rang again on the wooden table as he locked the desk drawer. "He's very ill," said Professor McHugh in a low voice. "It seems so," said J. J. O'Molloy.He took out a cigarette case and muttered thoughtfully, "But that's not necessarily the case. Who has the most matches?" Peaceful Dry Pipe [80] He offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself.Lenehan quickly struck a match and lit cigarettes for them in turn.J. J. O'Molloy opened the cigarette case again. "Thank you," Lenehan said, taking one. The editor-in-chief came out of the inner office, wearing a straw hat askew on his forehead.He pointed at Professor McHugh awe-inspiringly, and recited two lines of lyrics: Your position and fame have seduced you, It is Empire[82] that captivates you. The professor's long lips were tightly pursed, and he smiled. "Eh? You violent old Roman Empire?" said Myles Crawford. He took a cigarette from the open case.Lenehan immediately pointed it to him courteously, and said: "Be quiet and listen to my brand new riddle!" "Roman Empire," said J. J. O'Molloy serenely. "Sounds more refined than British or Brixton. That word somehow makes one think of fire." of fat." Miles Crawford puffed his first puff of smoke toward the ceiling with a puff. "Yeah," he said, "we're fat. You and I are the fat of Mars. We're not even snowballs in hell." Rome's Past Glory[85] "Wait a minute," said Professor McHugh calmly, raising his skinny, claw-like hands. "We must not be led by the rhetoric, the tone of the rhetoric. The Rome we have in mind is imperial, despotic Yes, imperious[86]." After a short pause, he spread his arms protruding from his dirty and torn shirt cuffs again in the style of an eloquent: "What was their civilization? I admit it was vast, but crude. Toilets[87]. Sewers. The Jews said in the wilderness and on top of mountains, 'This is a proper place, let us build an altar to the Lord The Roman, like the Englishman who followed him, was obsessed with repairing toilets whenever he set foot on a new shore (he never set foot on ours). In his toga, he looked around for a moment, and say, 'This is the right place, let's install a toilet.'” "They said it, and they did it," said Lenehan. "According to the first chapter of Guinness [88] our ancient ancestors had a preference for running water." "They're born gentlemen," said Jay Jay, O'Molloy Gooey, but we have Roman Law, too. " "And the prophet of the Code of Pontius Pilate," replied Professor McHugh. "You know that thing about Pallis, President of the Revenue Court?" asked J. J. O'Molloy; ""It was at the Royal College banquet.everything is going smoothly "Listen to my riddle first," said Lenehan. "Are you ready?" 身着宽松的多尼格尔[93]灰色花呢衣服、个子高高的奥马登·伯克[94]先生从过道里走了进来。斯蒂芬·迪达勒斯跟在他后面，边进屋边摘下帽子。 “请进，小伙子们!”[95]利内翰大声说。 “我是前来护送一个求情者的，”奥马登·伯克先生悦耳的声调说，“这位青年在饱有经验者的引导下，来拜访一名声名狼藉者了。” “你好吗?”主编说着，伸出一只手来， “请进。你家老爷子刚走。” ? ? ? 利内翰对大家说： “静一静!哪一出歌剧跟铁路线相似?考虑，沉思，默想，解决了再回答我。” 斯蒂芬一面把打字信稿递过去，一面指着标题和署名。 “谁?”主编问。 撕掉了一个角儿。 “加勒特·迪希先生，”斯蒂芬说。 “又是那个矫情鬼，”主编说，“这是谁撕的?他忽然想解手了吗?” 扬起火焰般的帆， 从南方的风暴中乘快船， 他来了，苍白的吸血鬼， 跟我嘴对嘴地亲吻。 [96] “你好，斯蒂芬，”教授说，他凑过来，隔着他们的肩膀望去，“口蹄疫?你改行了吗?……” 阉牛之友派“大诗人”[97]呐。 在一家著名餐馆里闹起的纠纷 “您好，先生，”斯蒂芬涨红了脸回答说，“这封信不是我写的。加勒特·迪希先生托我……” “哦，我认识他，”迈尔斯·克劳福德说，“我也认识他老婆。 是个举世无双的凶悍老泼妇。天哪，她淮是害上了口蹄疫!那天晚上，她在'金星嘉德'饭店里，把一盆汤全泼到侍者脸上啦。哎呀!” 一个女人把罪恶带到人世间。为了墨涅拉俄斯那个跟人私奔了的妻子海伦，希腊人竟足足打了十年仗。布雷夫尼大公奥鲁尔克。[98] “他是个鳏夫吗?”斯蒂芬问。 “啊，跟老婆分居着哪，”迈尔斯·克劳福德边浏览着打字信稿边说。“御用马群。哈布斯堡[99]。一个爱尔兰人在维也纳的城堡跟前救了皇帝一命。可不要忘记!爱尔兰的封蒂尔柯涅尔伯爵马克西米连·卡尔·奥唐奈。[100]为了封国王作奥地利陆军元帅，而今把他的嗣子派了来。[101]那儿迟早总有一天会出事。'野鹅'[102]。啊，是的，每一次都是这样。可不要忘记这一点!” “关键在于他忘没忘记，”杰·杰·奥莫洛伊把马蹄形的镇纸翻了个过儿，安详地说，“拯救了王侯，也不过赢得一声道谢而已。” 麦克休教授朝他转过身来。 “不然的话呢?”他说。 “我把事情的来龙去脉说一说吧，”迈尔斯·克劳福德开口说，“有一天，一个匈牙利人[103]……” 失败者 被提名的高贵的侯爵 “我们一向忠于失败者[104]，”教授说，“对我们来说，成功乃是智慧与想象力的灭亡。我们从来不曾效忠于成功者。只不过侍奉他们就是了。我教的是刺耳的拉丁文。我讲的是这样一个民族的语言，他们的智力的顶点乃是'一寸光阴一寸金'这么一条格言。物质占支配地位。主啊![105]主啊!这句话的灵性何在?主耶稣还是索尔兹伯里勋爵[106]？伦敦西区一家俱乐部里的沙发[107]。然而希腊文却不同!” 主啊，怜悯我们吧![108] 开朗的微笑使他那戴着黑框眼镜的两眼炯炯有神，长嘴唇咧得更长了。 “希腊文!”他又说，“主![109]辉煌的字眼!闪米特族和撒克逊族都不晓得的母音[110]。主啊[111]!智慧的光辉。我应该教希腊文—— 教这心灵的语言。主啊，怜悯我们吧![112]修厕所的和挖下水道的[113]永远不能成为我们精神上的主宰。我们是溃败于特拉法尔加[114]的欧洲天主教骑士精神的忠实仆从，又是在伊哥斯波塔米随着雅典舰队一道沉没了的精神帝国[115]——而不是统治权[116]——的忠实仆从。对，对，他们沉没了。皮勒斯被神谕所哄骗[117]，孤注一掷，试图挽回希腊的命运。这是对于失败者的效忠啊。” 他离开了他们，跨着大步走向窗口。 “他们开赴战场，”奥马登·伯克先生用阴郁的口吻说，“然而总吃败仗。”[118] “呜呜!”利内翰低声哭泣着，“演出[119]快要结束的时候，竟被一片瓦击中。[120]可怜的、可怜的、可怜的皮勒斯!” 然后，他跟斯蒂芬打起耳喳来。 利内翰的五行打油诗 学究麦克休好气派， 黑框眼镜成天戴， 醉得瞧啥皆双影， 何必费事把它戴? 我看不出这有啥可笑[121]，你呢? 穆利根说，这是为了悼念萨卢斯特[122]。他母亲死得像头牲口[123]。 迈尔斯·克劳福德把那几张信稿塞进侧兜里。 “这样就可以啦，”他说，“回头我再读其余的部分。这样就可以啦。” 利内翰摊开双手表示抗议。 “还有我的谜语呢!”他说，“哪一出歌剧跟铁路线相似?” “歌剧?”奥马登·伯克先生那张斯芬克斯般的脸把谜语重复了一遍。 利内翰欢欢喜喜地宣布说” “《卡斯蒂利亚的玫瑰》。你懂得它俏皮在什么地方吗?谜底是，并排的铸铁。嘻嘻嘻。”[124] 他轻轻戳了一下奥马登·伯克先生的侧腹。奥马登·伯克先生假装连气儿都透不过来了，手拄阳伞，风度优雅地朝后一仰。 “帮我一把!”他叹了口气，“我虚弱得很。” 利内翰踮起脚尖，赶紧用毛样沙沙沙地扇了搧他的脸。 教授沿着合订本的架子往回走的时候，用手掠了一下斯蒂芬和奥莫洛伊先生那系得稀松的领带。 “过去和现在的巴黎，”他说，“你们活像是巴黎公社社员。” “像是炸掉巴士底狱的家伙[125]，”杰·杰·奥莫洛伊用安详的口吻挖苦说，“要不然，芬兰总督就是你们暗杀的吧?看上去你们仿佛干了这档子事——干掉了博布里科夫将军。[126]” “我们仅仅有过这样的念头罢了，”斯蒂芬说。 万紫千红[127] “这里人材济济，”迈尔斯·克劳福德先生说，“法律方面啦，古典方面啦……” “赛马啦，”利内翰插嘴道。 “文学，新闻界。” “要是布卢姆在场的话，”教授说，“还有广告这高雅的一行哩。” “还有布卢姆夫人，”奥马登·伯克先生加上一句，“声乐女神。都柏林的首席歌星。” 利内翰大咳一声。 “啊嗨!”他用极其细柔的嗓音说，“哎，缺口新鲜空气!我在公园里感冒了，大门是敞着的。” “你能胜任!” 主编将一只手神经质地搭在斯蒂芬的肩上。 “我想请你写点东西，”他说，“带点刺儿的。你准能胜任!一看你的脸就知道。青春的词汇里[128]……” 从你的脸上就看得出来。从你的眼神里也看得出来。你是个懒散、吊儿郎当的小调皮鬼。[129] “口蹄疫!”主编用轻蔑口吻谩骂道，“民族主义党在勃里斯－因－奥索里召开大会[130]。真荒唐!威胁民众!得刺他们两下!把我们统统写进去，让灵魂见鬼去吧。圣父圣子和圣灵，还有茅坑杰克·麦卡锡[131]。” “咱们都能提供精神食粮，”奥马登·伯克先生说。 斯蒂芬抬起两眼，目光与那大胆而鲁莽的视线相遇。 “他[132]要把你拉进记者帮呢!”杰·杰·奥莫洛伊说。 了不起的加拉赫[133] “你能胜任，”迈尔斯·克劳福德为了加强语气，还擦起拳头，又说了一遍，“等着瞧吧，咱们会使欧洲大吃一惊。还是依格内修斯·加拉赫丢了差事之后，在克拉伦斯[134]当台球记分员时经常说的。加拉赫才算得上是个新闻记者呢。 那才叫作笔杆子。你晓得他是怎样一举成名的吗?我告诉你吧。 那可是报界有史以来最精采的一篇特讯哩。八一年[135]五月六日，'常胜军'时期， 凤凰公园发生了暗杀事件[136]。你那时大概还没有出生[137]呢。我找给你看看。” 他推开人们，踱向报纸合订本。 “喂，瞧瞧，”他回过头来说，“《纽约世界报》[138]拍了封海底电报来约一篇特稿。你还记得当时的事吗?” 麦克休教授点了点头。 “《纽约世界报》哩，”主编兴奋地把草帽往后推了推说，“案件发生的地点。蒂姆·凯里，我的意思是说，还有卡瓦纳、乔·布雷迪[139]和其他那些人。'剥山羊皮'[140]赶马车经过的路程。写明整个路程，明白吧?” “'剥山羊皮'，”奥马登·伯克先生说，“就是菲茨哈里斯。听说他在巴特桥那儿经营着一座马车夫棚[141]。是霍罗翰告诉我的。你认识霍罗翰吗?” “那个一瘸一拐的吧?”迈尔斯·克劳福德说。 “他告诉我说，可怜的冈穆利也在那儿，替市政府照看石料，守夜的。” 斯蒂芬惊愕地回过头来。 “冈穆利?”他说。“真的吗?那不是家父的一个朋友吗?” “不必管什么冈穆利了!”迈尔斯·克劳福德气愤地大声说，“就让冈穆利去守着他那石头吧，免得它们跑掉。瞧这个。依纳爵·加拉赫做了什么? 我告诉你。凭着天才和灵感，他马上就拍了海底电报。你有二月十七号的《自由人周刊》吗? 对，翻到了吗?” 他把合订本胡乱往回翻着，将手指戳在一个地方。 “掀到第四版，请看布朗梦想[142]的广告。找到了吗？对。” The phone rang. 远方的声音 “我去接，”教授边走向里屋，边说。 “B代表公园大门[143]。对。” 他的手指颤悠悠地跳跃着，从一个点戳到另一个点上。 “T代表总督府。 C是行凶地点。 K是诺克马龙大门[144l。” 他颈部那松弛的筋肉像公鸡的垂肉般颤悠着。没有浆好的衬衫假前脑一下子翘了起来，他猛地将它掖回背心里面。 “喂?是《电讯晚报》。喂?……哪一位?……是的……是的……是的。” “F至P是'剥山羊皮'为了证明他们当时不在犯罪现场而赶车走边的路线。英奇科尔、圆镇、风亭、帕默斯顿公园、拉尼拉。符号是F·A·B·P·。懂了吧?X是上利森街的戴维酒吧[145]。” 教授出现在里屋门口。 “是布卢姆打来的，”他说。 “叫他下地狱去吧，”主编立刻说，“X戴维酒吧，晓得了吧?” 伶俐极了 “伶俐……”利内翰说，“极了。” “趁热给他们端上来，”迈尔斯·克劳福德说，“血淋淋地和盘托出。” 你永远不会从这场恶梦中苏醒过来。[146] “我瞧见了，”主编自豪地说，“我刚好在场。迪克·亚当斯[147]是天主把生命的气吹进去[148]的科克人当中心地最他妈善良的一位。他和我本人都在场。” 利内翰朝空中的身影鞠了一躬，宣布说： “太太，我是亚当。在见到夏娃之前曾经是亚伯。”[149] “历史!”迈尔斯·克劳福德大声说，“亲王街的老太婆[150]打头阵。读了这篇特稿，哀哭并咬牙切齿。[151]特稿是插在广告里的。格雷戈尔· 格雷[152]设计的图案。他从此就扶摇直上。后来帕迪·胡珀在托·鲍面前替他说项，托·鲍就把他拉进了《星报》[153]。如今他和布卢门菲尔德[154]打得火热。这才叫报业呢!这才叫天才呢!派亚特[155]!他简直就是大家的老爹!” “黄色报纸的老爹，”利内翰加以证实说，“又是克里斯·卡利南[156]的姻亲。” “喂?听得见吗?嗯，他还在这儿哪。你自已过来吧。” “如今晚儿，你可到哪儿去找这样的新闻记者呀，呃?”主编大声说。 他呼啦一下把合订本合上了。 “很得鬼，”[157]利内翰对奥马登·伯克先生说。 “非常精明，”奥马登·伯克先生说。 麦克休教授从里面的办公室走了出来。 “说起'常胜军'，”他说，“你们晓得吗，一些小贩被市记录法官[158]传了去……” “可不是嘛，”杰·杰·奥莫洛伊热切地说，“达德利夫人[159]为了瞧瞧被去年那场旋风[160]刮倒了的树，穿过公园走回家去。她打算买一张都柏林市一览图。原来那竟是纪念乔·布雷迪或是'老大哥'[161]或是'剥山羊皮'的明信片。而且就在总督府大门外出售 着哩，想想看!” “如今晚儿这帮家伙净抓些鸡毛蒜皮，”迈尔斯·克劳福德说，“呸!报业和律师业都是这样!现在吃律师这碗饭的，哪里还有像怀持赛德[162]、 像伊萨克·巴特[163]、像口才流利的奥黑根[164那样的人呢?呃?哎，真是荒唐透顶!呸!只不过是撮堆儿真的货色!” 他没再说下去。嘴唇却一个劲儿地抽搐着，显示出神经质的嘲讽。 难道会有人愿意跟那么个嘴唇接吻吗?你怎么知道呢?那么你为什么又把这写下来呢? 韵律与理性 冒斯，扫斯。冒斯和扫斯之间多少有些关联吧?要么，难道扫斯就是一种冒斯吗?准是有点儿什么。扫斯，泡特，奥特，少特，芝欧斯。[165]押：两个人身穿一样的衣服，长得一模一样，并立着。[166] ……给你太平日子， ……听你喜悦的话语， 趁现在风平浪静的一刻。[167] 但丁瞥见少女们三个三个地走了过来。着绿色、玫瑰色、枯叶色的衣服，相互搂着;穿过了这样幽暗的地方[168]，身着紫红色、紫色的衣服，打着那和平的金光旗[169]，使人更加恳切地注视[170]的金光灿烂的军旗，走了过来。可我瞧见的却是一些年迈的男人，在黯夜中，忏悔着自己的罪行，抱着铅一般沉重的脚步：冒斯、扫斯；拖姆、卧姆。[171] “说说你的高见吧，”奥马登·伯克先生说。 一天应付一天的就够了…… 杰·杰·奥莫洛伊那苍白的脸上泛着微笑，应战了。 “亲爱的迈尔斯，”他说，一边丢掉纸烟，“你曲解了我的话。就我目前掌握的情况而言，我并不认为第三种职业[172]这整个行当都是值得辩护的。 然而你的科克腿[173]被感情驱使着哪。为什么不把亨利·格拉顿[174]弗勒德[175]， 以及狄靡西尼[176]和埃德蒙·伯克[177]也抬出来呢?我们全都晓得伊格内修斯· 加拉赫，还有他那个老板，在查佩利佐德出版小报的哈姆斯沃思[178]； 再有就是他那个出版鲍厄里通俗报纸的美国堂弟[179]。《珀迪·凯利要闻汇编》、《皮尤纪事》以及我们那反映敏捷的朋友《斯基勃林之鹰》[180]，就更不用说了。 何必扯到怀特赛德这么个法庭辩论场上的雄辩家呢?编报纸，一天应付一天的就够了[181]。” 同往昔岁月的联系 “格拉顿和弗勒德都为这家报纸撰过稿，”主编朝着他嚷道，“爱尔兰义勇军[182]。你们如今都哪儿去啦?一七六三年创刊的。卢卡斯大夫。像约翰·菲尔波特·柯伦[183]这样的人，如今上哪儿去找呀?呸!” “喏，”杰·杰·奥莫洛伊说，“比方说，英国皇家法律顾问布什[184]。” “布什?”主编说，“啊，对。布什，对。他有这方面的气质。肯德尔·布什[185]我指的是西摩·布什。” “他老早就该升任法官了，”教授说，“要不是……唉，算啦。” 杰·杰·奥莫洛伊转向斯蒂芬，安详而慢腾腾地说： “在我听到过的申辩演说中，最精采的正是出自西摩·布什之口。那是在审理杀兄事件一一蔡尔兹凶杀案。布什替他辩护来着。” 注入我的耳腔之内。[186] 顺便问一下，是怎样发觉的呢?他是正在睡着的时候死的呀。还有另外那个双背禽兽[187]的故事呢? “演说的内容是什么?”教授问。 意大利，艺术的女王[188] “他谈的是《罗马法》的证据法，”杰·杰·奥莫洛伊说， “把它拿来跟古老的《摩西法典》一一也就是说，跟《同态复仇法》[189]一一相对照。于是，他就举出安置于罗马教廷的米开朗琪罗的雕塑《摩西》作例证。” "Ho." “讲几句恰当的话，”利内翰作了开场白，“请肃静!” 静场，杰·杰·奥莫洛伊掏出他的香烟盒。 虚妄的肃静。其实不过是些老生常谈。 那位致开场白的取出他的火柴盒，若有所思地点上一支香烟。 从此，我[190]经常回顾那奇怪的辰光，并发现，划火柴本身固然是很小的一个动作，它却决定了我们两个人那以后的生涯。 干锤百炼的掉尾句 杰·杰·奥莫洛伊字斟句酌地说下去： “他是这么说的：那座堪称为冻结的音乐[191]的石像， 那个长了犄角的可怕的半神半人的形象[192]，那智慧与预言的永恒象征。 倘若雕刻家凭着想象力和技艺，用大理石雕成的那些净化了的灵魂和正在净化着的灵魂的化身，作为艺术品有永垂不朽的价值的话，它是当之无愧的。” 他挥了挥细长的手，给词句的韵律和抑扬平添了一番优雅。 “很好!”迈尔斯·克劳福德立刻说。 “非凡的灵感，”奥马登·伯克说。 “你喜欢吗?”杰·杰·奥莫洛伊问斯蒂芬。 那些词藻和手势的优美使得斯蒂芬从血液里受到感染。他涨红了脸，从烟盒里取出一支香烟。杰·杰·奥莫洛伊把那烟盒伸向迈尔斯·克劳福德。利内翰像刚才那样为大家点燃香烟，自己也当作战利品似地拿了一支，并且说： “多多谢谢嘞。” 高风亮节之士 “马吉尼斯教授[193]跟我谈到过你，”杰·杰·奥莫洛伊对斯蒂芬说，“对于那些神秘主义者[194]，乳白色的、沉寂的[195]诗人们以及神秘主义大师A· E·[196]，你真正的看法是怎样的?这是那个姓勃拉瓦茨基[197]的女人搞起来的。她是个惯于耍花招的老婆子。A·E·曾跟前来采访的美国记者[198]说，你曾在凌晨去看他，向他打听过心理意识的层次。马吉尼斯认为你是在嘲弄A· E·。马吉尼斯可是一位高风亮节之士哩。” 谈到了我。他说了些什么?他说了些什么?他是怎样谈论我的?不要去问。 “不抽，谢谢，”麦克休教授边推开香烟盒边说，“且慢，我只说说一件事。我平生听到的最精采的一次演说，是约翰·弗·泰勤[199]学院的史学会上发表的[200]法官菲茨吉本[201]先生一一现任上诉法庭庭长一一刚刚讲完。所要讨论的论文(当时还是蛮新鲜的)是提倡复兴爱尔兰语[202]。” 他转过身来对迈尔斯·克劳福德说： “你认识杰拉尔德·菲茨吉本。那么你就不难想象出他演说的格调了。” “听说眼下他正跟蒂姆·希利[203]一道，”杰·杰·奥莫洛伊说，“在三一学院担任财产管理委员会委员哪。” “他正跟一个穿长罩衫的乖娃儿[204]在一起哪。”迈尔斯·克劳福德说，“讲下去吧，呃？” “那篇讲演嘛，你们注意听着，”教授说，“是雄辩家完美的演说词。既彬彬有礼，又奔放豪迈，用语洗练而流畅。对于新兴的运动虽然还说不上是把惩戒的愤怒倾泄出来，[205]但总归是倾注了高傲者的侮辱。 当时那还是个崭新的运动呢。咱们是软弱的，因而是微不足道的。” 他那长长的薄嘴唇闭了一下。但他急于说下去，就将一只扎煞开来的手举到眼镜那儿，用颤巍巍的拇指和无名指轻轻扶了一下黑色镜框，使眼镜对准新的焦点。 即席演说 他恢复了平素的口吻，对杰·杰、奥莫洛伊说： “你应该知道，泰勒是带病前往的。我不相信他预先准备过演说词，因为会场上连一个速记员都没有。他那黝黑瘦削的脸上，胡子拉碴，肮里肮脏的。松松地系着一条白绸领巾，整个来说，看上去像个行将就木之人(尽管并不是这样)。 此刻他的视线徐徐地从杰·杰·奥莫洛伊的脸上转向斯蒂芬，然后垂向地面，仿佛若有所寻。他那没有浆洗过的亚麻布领子从弯下去的脖颈后面露了出来，领子已被枯草般的头发蹭脏了。他继续搜寻着，并且说： “菲茨吉本的演说结束后，约翰·弗·泰勒站起来反驳他。据我的回忆，大致是这么说的。” 他坚毅地抬起头。眼睛里又露出沉思的神色。迟钝的贝壳在厚实的镜片中游来游去，在寻找着出口。 He said: “主席先生，诸位女士们，先生们：刚才听到我那位学识渊博的朋友对爱尔兰青年所发表的演说，佩服之至。我仿佛被送到离这个国家很远的一个国家，来到离本时代很远的一个时代;我仿佛站在古代埃及的大地上， 聆听着那里的某位祭司长对年轻的摩西训话。” 听众指间一动也不动地夹着香烟，聆听着。细微的轻烟徐徐上升，和演说一道绽开了花。让香烟袅袅上升[206]。这就要说出崇高的言词来了。 请注意。你自己想不想尝试一下呢? “我好像听见那位埃及祭司长把声音提高了，带有自豪而傲慢的腔调。我听见了他的话语，并且领悟了他所启迪的含义。” 教父[207]们所示 我受到的启迪是：这些事物固然美好，却难免受到腐蚀；只有无比美好的事物，抑或并不美好的事物，才不可能被腐蚀。[208]啊，笨蛋!这是圣奥古期丁的话哩。 “你们这些犹太人为什么不接受我们的文化、我们的宗教和我们的语言?你们不过是一介牧民，我们却是强大的民族。你们没有城市，更没有财富。我们的都市里，人群熙攘;有着三至四层桨的大帆船[209]，满载着各式各样的商品，驶入全世界各个已知的海洋。你们刚刚脱离原始状态，而我们却拥有文学、僧侣、悠久的历史和政治组织[210]。” 尼罗河。 娃娃，大人，偶像。 [211] 婴儿的奶妈们跪在尼罗河畔。[212]用宽叶香蒲编的摇篮。格斗起来矫健敏捷[213]的男子。长着一对石角[214]，一副石须，一颗石心。 “你们向本地那无名的偶像[215]祷告。我们的寺院却宏伟而神秘， 居住着伊希斯和俄赛里斯，何露斯和阿蒙一端。[216]你们信仰奴役、畏惧与谦卑;我们信仰雷和海洋。以色列人是孱弱的，子孙很少;埃及人口众多，武力令人生畏。 你们被称作流浪者和打零工的;世界听到我们的名字就吓得发抖。” 演说到此顿了一下，他悄悄地打了个饿嗝，接着又气势澎湃地扬起了嗓门： “可是，各位女士，各位先生，倘若年轻的摩西聆听并接受这样的人生观；倘若他在如此妄自尊大的训诫面前俯首屈从，精神萎顿，那么他就永远也不会领着选民离开他们被奴役的地方了[217]，更不会白天跟着云柱走。[218]他决不会在雷电交加中在西奈山顶与永生的天主交谈。[219] 更永远不会脸上焕发着灵感之光走下山来，双手捧着十诫的法版，而那是用亡命徒的语言镌刻的。” 他住了口，望着他们，欣赏着这片寂静。 不祥之兆——对他而言! 杰·杰·奥莫洛伊不无遗憾地说： “然而，他还没进入应许给他们的土地就去世啦。”[220] “当时一来得一突然一不过一这病一拖延一已久一早就一频频一预期到会因吐血症一致死的，”[221]利内翰说，“他本来是会有锦绣前程的。” 传来了一群赤足者奔过走廊，并吧哒吧哒地上楼梯的声音。 “那才是雄辩之才呢，”教授说，“没有一个人反驳得了。” 随风飘去[222]。位于马勒麻斯特和塔拉那诸王的军队。连绵数英里的柱廊，侧耳聆听。保民官