Chapter 13 Chapter Ten 1

The very venerable John Commey, Master of the Society of Jesuits, put his sleek pocket watch back in his pocket as he descended the steps of the rectory.It was five minutes to three.Before it was too late, we just walked to Atan[2].What's the boy's name? Dignam.right.It is indeed appropriate and correct [3].Should see Brother Swan[4].There is also a letter from Mr. Cunningham.Yes, try to satisfy his request as much as possible.This is a good and able Catholic.It can come in handy when teaching. A one-legged sailor, with two crutches, sauntered forward listlessly, humming some tune.He wandered up to the front of the Sisters of Charity, stopped abruptly, and held out his cap to the very venerable John Commey of the Society of Jesus, begging him for alms.Father Commee blessed him in the sun, because the priest knew that he had only one crown in his wallet.

Father Conmee crossed the road, across Mountjoy Square.He thought for a moment how soldiers and sailors whose legs had been blown off by cannonballs ended up in poor houses, and remembered the words of Cardinal Wolsey: "If I serve God with the same zeal as I serve the king, he will also serve God." Won't abandon me in my old age."[6] He walked along the shade, under the sun-shining leaves; the wife of Mr David Sheehy, Member of Parliament[7] met him. "I'm fine, really, Father. How about you, Father?" Father Conmee was very healthy indeed.He might go to Buxton for a mineral bath.Her sons are doing well at Belvidere, aren't they? Father Conmee was glad to hear that, indeed.Where is Mr. Sheehy himself? Still in London.Parliament is still in session, isn't it?What a beautiful day, what a relief.Yes, Father Bernard Vaughan will most likely give another sermon.Ah, no, great success.A genius indeed.

Father Conmee was overjoyed to see the wife of Mr. David Sheehy, Member of Parliament, looking so healthy, and he begged her to pay Mr. David Sheey, Member of Parliament, his respects.Yes, he will come and visit. "Good-bye, then, Mrs. Sheey." Father Kangmi took off his top hat to say goodbye, and smiled at the Uzhuwuer on her veil that glistened in the sun.As he walked away, he smiled again.He knew that he had cleaned his teeth with betel nut paste. Father Conmee paced, smiling as he remembered Father Bernard Vaughn's amused eyes and Cockney accent. "Pilate! Why don't you drive away those booers?"[11]

In any case, he was a warm-hearted man.This is true.In his unique way, he has indeed done a lot of good things.There is no doubt about this.He said he loved Ireland and the Irish.Who can believe he's of good blood? Welsh? Oh, don't forget.The letter addressed to the parish priest. At the corner of Mountjoy Square, Father Conmee stopped three schoolboys.Yes, they are students of Belvedere.Uh, shifts are low.Were they all good students in school? Oh, that would be great.So, what's his name? Jack Thorne.What's his name? Jer[12] Gallagher.And the other little one? His name is Bruni Lynam.Oh, what a name.

Father Conmee took out a letter from his chest, handed it to young Bruni Lynam, and pointed to the red mailbox at the corner of Fitzgibbon Street. "But be careful not to throw yourself in the mailbox, little one," he said. The six eyes of the children fixed on Father Komi and laughed loudly: "Oh, you." "Here, let me see if you can post," said Father Conmee. The teenager Bruni Lynam ran across the road and stuffed Father Conmee's letter to the priest in charge of the parish into the mouth of the bright red mailbox.Father Comey smiled and nodded.Then smiled again, and walked east along Mountjoy Square.

Mr. Dennis Jay Makini, the teacher of dance and other courses, wears a silk top hat, a dark blue-gray long dress with a silk trim, a snow-white bow tie, and lavender leggings underneath; He wears bright yellow gloves and patent leather boots with pointed toes.Walking demurely, he came to the corner of Dignam's courtyard.At this moment, Mrs. Maxwell passed by, and he hastened respectfully to the curb. Isn't that Mrs. McGuinness[14]? The silver-haired, imposing Mrs. McGuinness walked the sidewalk opposite.She nodded to Father Comey.Father Conmi saluted with a smile.How is she? The lady has a melancholy demeanor, somewhat resembling Mary, Queen of Scots[15].Come to think of it, she's a pawnbroker's wife! Oh, yes! Such a... how should I say it?... Such a queen.

Father Conmee walked down Great Charles Street and glanced to the left at the closed Free Church.The venerable T. R. Green, BA, will (according to the will of God)[17] preach.They called him the vicar.As for him, he thought it was his duty to say a few words[18].However, be lenient with them.Insurmountable ignorance.After all, they also act according to their own opinions. Father Conmee turned the corner and walked along the North Ring Road.It is strange that such an important thoroughfare has no tramway paved.Definitely should be laid. Schoolchildren, also carrying schoolbags, came across the road from Richmond Street.All raised their dirty caps.Father Conmee returned the salute to them benevolently again and again.These are the children of the Catholic Brethren[19].

Father Conmi walked all the way and smelled a puff of smoke from the right.St. Joseph's Church on Side Street, Portland.It was for chaste crones. [20] The priest takes off his hat towards the Eucharist [21].Although they are of high integrity, they just have a bad temper sometimes. When he came near the Aldeborough mansion, Father Conmee thought of the nobleman who spent money like water.Now, it has been changed into an office or something. [twenty two] Father Conmee began to walk down North Beach Road, and Mr. William Gallagher, standing at the door of his business, saluted him.Father Conmee returned the salute to Mr. William Gallagher and smelled the smell of strips of bacon and buckets full of chilled butter.He walked by Grogan's Tobacco's, leaning against the boards in front of which there were news boards announcing a tragedy in New York.In the United States, such incidents emerge one after another.Unlucky people just die like that.However, complete repentance can also lead to forgiveness[24].

Father Conmee walked by Daniel Birkin's saloon.Two unemployed men were loitering by the window.They saluted him, and he returned it. Father Conmee walks past the H. J. O'Neill Funeral Home.Corny Kelleher was chewing on a piece of dry grass and doing the sums in the ledger.A policeman on patrol saluted Father Conmee, who returned the salute.Walking by the Ukstedt Pork Shop, Father Conmi saw black, white and red pork sausages neatly arranged inside, like curved pipes.Under the trees in the Boulevard de Charleville, Father Conmee saw a peat boat, a drag horse with its head bowed, and the captain in a dirty straw hat sitting in the center of the boat, smoking a cigarette and staring intently at the sky above. A poplar branch.It was idyllic indeed.Father Kangmi pondered the Creator's will: to let peat be produced in the swamp for people to dig and transport to cities and villages.As a result, the poor's house can start a fire.

On Newcomen Bridge, John Commey, the very venerable Jesuit Superior of St. Francis Xavier's Church on Upper Gardiner Street, stepped onto a tram bound for the countryside. A city-bound tram stopped at Newcomen Bridge.The Reverend Nicholas Dudley, Rector of St Agatha's Church, alighted. Father Conmee had taken this suburban tram at Newcomen Bridge because he hated walking the dirt roads of Mud Island. Father Conmi sat in a corner of the tram.He carefully tucked a blue ticket into the buttonhole of a large suede glove; and four shillings and a sixpence and five pennies[26] from another of his suede-gloved Slap on the palm, and slide it sideways into his wallet.As the tram passed the ivy-covered church, he thought: Usually the moment the ticket is carelessly thrown away, the ticket inspector comes.Father Commee felt that the passengers in the car were too serious for such a short and cheap journey.Father Conmee liked to have a good time and be decent.

It's a peaceful day.The gentleman with glasses sitting across from Father Conmi finished his explanation and looked down.Father Conmee figured it must be his wife. A small yawn caused the wife of the gentleman with glasses to open her mouth.She raised her gloved fist, yawned very gracefully, lightly touched her open mouth with her gloved fist, and smiled sweetly. Father Conmee could detect the fragrance of her perfume in the carriage.He also noticed that a man on the other side of her sat awkwardly on the edge of the seat. [27] Father Conmee had laboriously put Holy Communion into the mouth of a clumsy old man on the edge of the altar rail.The man suffers from head shaking. The tram stopped at Ainsley Bridge.Just as it was about to start, an old woman stood up from her seat with a cold breath.She wants to get out of the car.The conductor tugged at the bell rope and called the brakes to let her go down.She carried the basket and the net bag, and walked out of the carriage.Father Kangmi saw the conductor help her out of the car with the basket and net bag.Father Conmee thought that she was almost overpaying for a penny.From this point of view, she is one of those good people, you have to tell them again and again that they are forgiven: "Bless you, my child, pray for me."[28] Yet they are living So much worry, so much care, poor people. Mr. Eugene Stratton on the billboard grinned at Father Commie with thick black person lips. Father Conmee thinking of black, brown, and yellow souls, and his preaching about St. Black, brown, and yellow souls.They were not yet baptized when death came suddenly like a thief in the night[31].Father Conmi believes that the proposition in the book "The Number of the Chosen People"[32] written by the Belgian Jesuit is still reasonable.The souls of those millions were created in God's image[33].Yet they did not acquire faith (according to the will of God[34]).But after all, they are the creatures of God, created by God.According to Father Kommy, it would be a pity and a waste to let them all perish. Father Conmee got off at the stop on House Road.The conductor saluted him, which he returned. The Malahide Road was silent.The road and its name suit Father Conmi's heart very well.Malahide was beaming, and the celebratory bells were ringing and ringing. [35] Lord Talbot of Malahide, direct successor of the hereditary Admiral of Malahide and the adjoining seas.Immediately afterwards, the call-up order came down.On the same day she was transformed from virgin to wife and widow[36].It was a quaint half moon, and the countryside was full of joy. It was the ancient era of loyalty to the Lord's territory. Father Conmee walked thinking about his little book, The Old Times of Lordships, and another book worth writing about a Jesuit monastery and Lord Molesworth's daughter— —Mary Rochford, 1st Countess of Belvedere[38]. A lady who has lost her youth and looks tired is walking alone along the bank of Lake Ainaishui[39].The first Countess of Belvedere wandered in the twilight with a tired expression.When an otter jumped into the water, she didn't budge either.Who knows the truth? It is impossible for Lord Belvedere who is jealous, and it is impossible for the priest listening to her confession to know whether she has committed adultery with her brother-in-law or whether he has ejaculated in her natural female organ[40] ?According to the common sense of women, if she has not sinned completely, she only needs to repent without pain.The only ones who knew the truth were God, herself, and him—her brother-in-law. Father Conmee thought of that kind of tyrannical indulgence, which, after all, is indispensable for the survival of human beings on the earth.It also reminds us that what we do is very different from God. Don John [4] Commi was forced to wander in the past years while walking.There he was respected for his compassion.He kept in his heart all the secrets of the people's confession; in a living room with a ceiling hung with fruits and polished with beeswax, he greeted the smiling faces of the nobles with a smile.The hands of bridegroom and bride, nobleman and nobleman, all folded palms together by Don John Commie. These are days of exhilaration. Through the bier-gate of the churchyard, Father Conmee saw rows of cabbages curtseying to him with their broad lower leaves spread out.In the sky, a small cluster of white clouds came into view, slowly drifting down with the wind.The French call it furry[42].The word is appropriate and simple. Father Conmee read the Office,[43] and looked at the woolly clouds over Lath Cofe.[44]His ankles in thin socks were tickled by stubble from the Clongows fields.As he recited the evening lesson, he listened to the shouts of the schoolchildren who were playing games in different classes--childish voices pierced the silence of the evening.He used to be their principal back then.He manages generously. [45] Father Conmi took off his gloves and took out the red-edged "Holy Office".A piece of ivory bookmark marks which page to read. Nine-hour class [46].Ordinarily, it should be recited before lunch.But Mrs. Maxwell came. Father Kangmi quietly finished reciting the "Our Father" and "Hail Mary"[47], and made the sign of the cross on his chest: O God, please save me quickly![48] He paced peacefully, reciting the nine-hour lesson silently, reciting as he walked, until the Res[50] verse of Blessed are the pure in heart[49]: At the center of your law is truth; All your just laws endure forever![51] A blushing young man[52] emerged from a gap in the fence.Then came out a young girl, holding a bouquet of swaying wild daisies in her hand.The young man suddenly raised his hat in salute, and the young girl quickly bent down and slowly and carefully removed a twig that was hanging on her fluttering skirt. Father Kangmi solemnly blessed the two of them, and then opened a thin page of "Sunday Lessons": Sin[53]. Powerful people persecute me without reason, but I respect your laws. [54] * * * Corny Kelleher closed his rectangular ledger and glanced wearily at the pine coffin lid that stood sentinel in the corner.He straightened his body, walked to the coffin lid, and turned it around on one corner of the coffin, studying its shape and copper ornaments.Chewing the piece of hay, he put the lid back on the coffin and came to the door.There he pulled the brim of his hat down to shade his eyes, and leaned against the doorframe to look out lazily. Father John Commie got on the Dollywood tram at Newcomen Bridge. Corny Kelleher, with his big feet in his big leather boots crossed and the brim of his hat pulled down, stared intently, chewing on the piece of hay. Policeman C57 who was on patrol stopped and chatted with him. "It's a fine day, Mr. Kelleher." "That's right," said Corny Kelleher. "It was very hot," said the policeman. Corny Kelleher spat out a mouthful of hay juice without a sound, and it flew out in an arc.Just at that moment a white arm flung a coin generously through a window on Eccles Street. [55] "What's the best news?" he asked. "I saw that particular party last night," said the policeman in a low voice. * * * A one-legged sailor on a T-bend turned a corner in front of McConnell's Pharmacy, bypassed Rabiotti's ice cream truck, and lurched into Eccles Street.Larry O'Rourke [56] stood in the doorway in his shirt-sleeves when the sailor yelled at him unkindly: For the UK... He sauntered forward, passed Katie and Buddy Dedalus, stopped, and bellowed: For home and beauty. [57] From the pale, sad face of J. J. O'Molloy, Mr. Lambert was receiving visitors in the warehouse. A stout lady stopped, took a copper coin from her handbag, and dropped it into the cap held out to her.The sailor murmured his thanks, cast a sullen glance at the windows which had been ignoring him, hung his head, and sauntered forward another four paces. He stopped and growled furiously: For the UK... Two barefoot urchins, chewing long licorice roots, stood down beside him, with yellowish saliva dripping from their mouths, and stared blankly at his stump. He strode forward a few strides, stopped, raised his head towards a window, and shouted in a drawn-out deep voice: For home and beauty. From inside the window came a mellow, merry whistle like the chirping of a bird, which lasted a bar or two before subsiding.The curtains are drawn.A sign reading "Rooms for Rent, Bring Your Own Furniture" slid down the window frame.The window showed a plump, naked, benevolent arm, protruding from the taut suspenders of the white skirt of the petticoat.A woman's [58] hand tossed a coin over the railing in front of the basement.It landed on the pavement. An urchin ran up to the coin, picked it up, and dropped it into the singer's cap, saying: "Here, uncle." * * * Katie and Buddy Dedalus pushed open the door and stepped into the cramped, steamy kitchen. "Have you pawned off the book?" Buddy asked. Standing in front of the iron stove, Maggie twice splashed a gray blob of something into the bubbling soapy water with the stirrer stick and wiped her forehead. "They don't give a penny," she said. Father Conmee walked across the Clongows field, his ankles in thin socks itchy with stubble. "Where did you go to try it?" Buddy asked. "McGuinness's Pawn Shop." Bu Di stomped his feet and put his schoolbag on the table. "Don't be so great, let her suffer!" she cried. Katie walked up to the iron stove and stared with narrowed eyes. "What's in the pot?" she asked. "Shirt," Maggie said. Buddy shouted angrily: "My God! Don't we have anything to eat?" Katie propped her hands on her dirty skirt, lifted the lid of the soup pot and asked: "What's in here?" A puff of steam from the pot answered her. "Pea soup," said Maggie. "Where did you get that?" Katie asked. "Sister Mary Patrick's," Maggie said. The handyman rang the bell. jingle lang! Budi sat down at the table and said with a hungry stomach, "Bring it here!" Maggie poured the thick soup from the pot into a bowl.Katie, who was sitting across from Buddy, stuffed bread crumbs into her mouth with her fingertips, and said calmly: "It's good that we have so much to eat. Where's Dilly?" "To fetch father," Maggie said. While breaking big pieces of bread into the yellow soup, Budi said: "Our Father who is not in heaven..."[60] Maggie poured yellow soup into Katie's bowl and cried: "Budi! Stop talking nonsense like that!" A small boat—the "Elijah came" [61] that was crumpled up and thrown away, floated on the Liffey River and went down the river.Cross the Ring Bridge[62], break out of the torrent that rolls around the piers, skirt the hull and the anchor chain, and drift east between the old Customs Dockyard and George's Wharf. * * * The Goldilocks at Thornton's Flower and Fruit shop was spreading the rustling filaments into the wicker baskets.Blazes Boylan handed her a bottle wrapped in pink crepe paper and a small jar. "Put these in first, okay?" he said. "Yes, sir," said Goldilocks, "fruit on top." "Okay, that's fine," Blazes Boylan said. She stacked the plump pears in a staggered way, and put ripe peaches that blushed in the gaps. Blazes Boylan, in his new tan shoes, paced up and down the fruit-scented shop, picking up the tender, juicy, wrinkled fruit, and the fat, bright red fruit. Tomatoes, sniff. H.E.L.YS[63] in white top hats marched in front of him; crossing Tangier Lane, trudging towards the destination. He came across the room suddenly from a bunch of strawberries on a piece of wood, pulled a gold pocket watch out of his watch pocket, and straightened its chain. "Can you take the trolley there? Right away?" In the merchant arcade, a dark figure was flipping through the books on the vendor's cart. [64] "Sir, it will be delivered to you. Is it in the city?" "No," said Blazes Boylan, "ten minutes." Goldilocks handed him the label and the pencil. "Sir, would you please write down the address?" Blazes Boylan had written a label on the counter and pushed it toward her. "Send it right away, will you?" he said. "It's for a patient." "Yes, sir. Immediately, sir." Blazes Boylan was fiddling with money in his trouser pocket, making happy noises. "How much?" he asked. Goldilocks pointed at the fruit with her slender fingers. Blazes Boylan glanced at the opening of her blouse, baby.He picked up a bright red carnation from the goblet. "Is this for me?" he asked flirtatiously. The blond girl cast a sidelong glance at him and blushed when she saw how he was spending so much to dress up and his tie was slightly askew. "Yes, sir," she said. She bent down deftly and counted the plump pears and blushing peaches. Blazes Boylan gazed more and more fascinated at the opening of her blouse, and grinned as she held the safflower stalk between her teeth. "Can I have a word on your phone?" he asked bluntly. * * * "But![65]" said Almidano Altiffany[66]. He gazed at the bumpy head of Goldsmith over Stephen's shoulder. Two carriages full of tourists passed slowly, and women sat in front clutching the armrests.Pale faces. [68] The man's arm is frankly around the woman's short body.The group turned their gaze from Trinity College to the columned, closed-door foyer of the Bank of Ireland.There, the pigeons were cooing. "When you were young,"[69] said Almidano Artifoni, "I thought so too. I was convinced that the world was a pigsty. Too bad. Because of your The voice... can be your money, see? And yet you're making self-sacrifice.”[70] "A bloodless sacrifice,"[71] Stephen said with a smile.He grasped the middle waist of the ash cane, and slowly and gently swung it back and forth. "I hope so," said the round, mustacheed face cheerfully, "but you'd better listen to me. Think about it."[73] A trolley from Inchcoche obeyed Graton's signal to stop with a stern stone hand.A group of Scottish highland soldiers belonging to the military band got out of the car in a mess. "I'll think it over,"[75] Stephen said, glancing down at the stiff trouser legs. "You mean it, eh?"[76] said Almidano Altiffany. He held Stephen’s hand tightly with that thick hand.A pair of human eyes stared curiously at him for a moment, then turned to a Dalkey-bound tram. "Come on," said Almidano Altiffany, friendly, in a hurry, "come sit with me and think again. Goodbye, brother."[77] "Good-bye, Master," said Stephen, freeing his hand and flipping his hat, "thank you!"[78] "You're welcome?" said Almidano Altiffany. "Forgive me, eh? I wish you well!"[79] Armidano Altiffany rolled the score into a baton shape, said hello, and stepped out of his sturdy trouser legs to catch the Dalkey tram.He was caught up in the troop of Highland soldiers in shorts and bare knees who were swarming through the gates of Trinity College with their smuggled instruments[80]—so it was a waste of his trip and hello. beated. * * * Miss Dunne hid The Lady in White, which she had borrowed from the Capel Street Library, at the back of a drawer, and rolled a gaudy piece of letter paper into the typewriter. There are a lot of mystifying places inside.Did he fall in love with that Marion? Take a book by Mary Cecil Hay. Disc [84] slides down along groove.After shaking for a while before stopping, he flew a glance at them: Six. Miss Dunn rattled the keyboard of the typewriter: "June 16, 1904." Five advertising men in white top hats came between the corner of Moneypenny's store and the stone slab where no Wolfe Torn statue had yet been erected, their H·E·L·Y'S winding The formation turned around, and walked back along the original road with heavy steps. Then, staring at the large poster of Mary Kendall, a beautiful actress devoted to flirtatious roles, she slumped on her desk and scribbled sixteens and capital Ss in her journal.Mustard hair.Smudged cheeks.She's not pretty, is she? Look at the way she pinches the hem of her skirt! I'd like to know if that guy's in the band tonight.[87]If only I could have a tailor make me a pleated skirt like Suzy Nagel's.How elegant it is to walk.Shannon and all the hipsters at the rowing club couldn't take their eyes off her.I wish he didn't keep me till seven today. The phone rang suddenly in her ear. "Hello! Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, sir. I'll ring 'em after five o'clock. Only those two—one to Belfast and one to Liverpool. Good." Yes, sir. Well, if you don't come back, I can go after six. A quarter past six. Well, sir. Twenty-seven shillings six. I'll tell him. Yes, one pound seven shillings six." She scrawled three numbers on an envelope. "Mr. Boylan! Hello! The gentleman from the Athletic came to see you. Yes, Mr. Lenehan. He said he was going to the Ormond's at four o'clock. No, sir. Yes, Sir. I'll call them after five." * * * Two pink faces appeared by the light of the tiny torches. [90] "Who is it?" asked Ned Lambert. "Is it Crotty?" "Lingabella and Crosshaven," said a voice that was feeling its way. "Hey, Jack, is that you?" said Ned Lambert, waving the cork under the flickering firelight of the vault. "Come here, watch out for your feet." The waxed match clutched in the priest's upraised hand burned out in a long soft flame and fell.Red blobs extinguished at their heels, and a musty air hung around them. "How interesting!" said a refined accent in the gloom. "Yes, Father," said Ned Lambert eagerly, "we are standing now in the meeting hall of St. Mary's Abbey. It is a historic site. In 1534, Thomas the Silk Knight [ 91] This is where the rebellion was announced. This is the most historic place in all of Dublin. Someday O'Madden Burke will write something about it. Before the merger[92] the old Bank of Ireland was Across the road. The Jewish Temple used to be here too. Then they built their own synagogue on Adelaide Road. Jack, you've never been here, have you?" "No, Ned." "He [93] came on horseback along the Dame walk," said the refined accent. "The Kildares' house, if I remember correctly, is in Thomas Court." "Well," said Ned Lambert, "that's all right, Father." "Thanks to your kindness," said the priest, "will you allow me next time..." "Certainly," said Ned Lambert, "come with your camera whenever you like. I'll have the pockets removed from the window. You can take it from here or here." He paced up and down in the quiet twilight, tapping the bag of seeds piled high with the wooden stick in his hand, and pointing out good spots on the floor for framing. A beard and gaze on a long face, falling on a chessboard. [94] "Thank you very much, Mr. Lambert," said the priest. "Your time is precious, and I will leave it alone..." "You're welcome, Father," said Ned Lambert, "whenever you like. Next week, say. See you?" "I can see it, I can see it. Then I take my leave, Mr. Lambert. I am very glad to see you." "I'm glad, Father," Ned Lambert answered. He sent the visitor to the exit, twirling and throwing the wooden stick between the columns.He walked slowly into Mary's Priory Street with J. J. O'Molloy.There, carters are loading sacks of carob flour and coconut flour onto flatbed carts, O'Connell, Wexford. [95] He paused to read the business card in his hand. "Father Hugh C. Lowe, Ruth Cofe. [96] Lives now: St. Michael's Church, Sahlins [97]. A fine young man. He told me he was writing a book on Fitz The books of the Gerrard family. He knows the history like the back of his hand, sure." Slowly and carefully the young girl plucked a bunch of twigs from her fluttering skirt. [99] "I just thought you were plotting another Gunpowder Plot," said Jay Jay O'Molloy. Ned Lambert snapped his fingers in the air. "Alas!" he cried, "I forgot to tell him what the Earl of Kildare said after he set fire to Cashel Cathedral. Do you know what he said?" I I'm really sorry for doing it,' he said, 'but by God, I did think the archbishop was in there.' Maybe he didn't like to hear it, though. What? God, I gotta tell him anyway. .This is the great Earl, Great [102] Fitzgerald. They are all fiery, Geralds and the like." The loose-harnessed horses startled and looked tense as he passed.He patted the quivering haunches of the piebald next to him, and cried: "Whoa! Good boy!" He turned to J. J. O'Molloy and asked: "Er, Jack. What's the matter? What trouble? Wait a minute. Stop." He opened his mouth wide, threw his head back vigorously, stood still, and immediately sneezed loudly. "Hack!" he said, "Damn it!" "It's all the dust on those sacks," said J. J. O'Molloy politely. "No," panted Ned Lambert, "I caught a... cold, the day before yesterday... damn... the night before... and, besides, there's a terrific draft over there..." He took the handkerchief and prepared to lay down the next... "This morning . . . I went to . . . Glasnevin . . . poor little . * * * Tom Rochford, in the crimson waistcoat, held a stack of discs against his chest in one hand, and picked up the top one with the other. "Look," he said, "let's say it's the sixth show. Go in here and look. Now the show's on." He showed them the disk by inserting it into the opening on the left.It slid down the trough, wobbled for a while before stopping, and shot them a look: Six. [103] The lawyer[104] at that time was arrogant and made a generous statement.They saw Rich Goulding carry the Goulding, Collis, Ward accounting briefcase from the Unified Audit Office all the way to the Civil Court.Then an elderly woman in a baggy black silk dress was heard rustling out of the Admiralty Court of the High Court[105] and into the Court of Appeal, a half-confident smile showing her false teeth. "Look," he said, "look, the last one I put in is here: show over. Impact. Leverage. Got it?" He showed them the rising stack of disks on the right. "Brilliant idea," said Nosed Flynn, sniffling, "so people who come late can see which shows are going on and which ones are over." "See now?" said Tom Rochford. He stuffs a disc himself, watches it slide down, wobbles, takes a look, stops: four.ongoing program. "I'm going to meet him at the Ormond's right now," said Lenehan, "to find out. Kindness always pays off." "Go ahead," said Tom Rochford, "and tell him I've been waiting for Boylan." "Good night," McCoy gasped, "while you two get down to business..." Nosy Flynn bent over the lever, sniffing. "But how does this place work, Tommy?" he asked. "Tulalu," said Lenehan, "see you later." He followed McCoy out, across the small square of the Crampton compound. "He's a hero," he said without hesitation. "I know," McCoy said, "you mean the gutters." “排水沟?”利内翰说，“是阴沟的检修口。” 他们走过丹·劳里游艺场，专演风骚角色的妖媚女演员玛丽·肯德尔从海报上朝他们投以画得很蹩脚的微笑。 他们来到锡卡莫街，沿着帝国游艺场旁的人行道走着，利内翰把事情的来龙去脉讲给麦科伊听。有个阴沟口，就像那讨厌的煤气管一样，卡住了一个可怜的家伙。阴沟里的臭气已把他熏个半死。汤姆·罗赤福特连那件经纪人背心也来不及脱，身上系了根绳子，就不顾一切地下去了。还真行，他用绳子套住那可怜的家伙，两个人就都给拽了上来[107]。 “真是英雄的壮举，”他说。 奔杰维斯街。 “这边走，”他一面朝右边走一面说，“我要到莱纳姆那儿去瞧瞧'权杖'[108]的起价。你那块带金链儿的金表几点啦?” 麦科伊窥伺了一下马库斯·特蒂乌斯·摩西那幽暗的办事处，接着又瞧了瞧奥尼尔茶叶店的挂钟。 “三点多啦，”他说，“谁骑'权杖'?” “奥马登”，利内翰说，“那是匹精神十足的小母马。” 在圣殿酒吧前等候的时候，麦科伊躲开一条香蕉皮，然后用脚夹把它轻轻挑到人行道的阴沟里去。谁要是喝得烂醉黑咕隆咚地走到这儿，会很容易就摔个跟头。 为了让总督出行的车马经过，车道[109]前的大门敞开了。 “一博一，”利内翰回来说，“我在那儿碰见了班塔穆·莱昂斯。他打算押一匹别人教给他的破马，它压根儿就没有过赢的希望。打这儿穿过去。” 他们拾级而上。在商贾拱廊内，一个黑糊糊的背影正在翻阅着小贩车上的书。 “他在那儿呢，”利内翰说。 “不晓得他在买什么，”麦科伊说着，回头瞥了一眼。 “《利奥波德或稞麦花儿开》[110]，”利内翰说。 “他是买减价书的能手，”麦科伊说，“有一天我和他在一起，他在利菲街花两先令从一个老头那儿买了一本书。里面有精采的图片，足足值一倍钱。星星啦，月亮啦，带长尾巴的慧星啦。是一部关于天文学的书。” 利内翰笑了。 “我讲给你听一个关于慧星尾巴的极有趣儿的故事，”他说，“站到太阳地儿来。” 他们横过马路来到铁桥跟前，沿着河堤边的惠灵顿码头走去。 少年帕特里克·阿洛伊修斯·迪格纳穆[111]拿着一磅半猪排，从曼根的(原先是费伦巴克的)店里走了出来。 “那一次格伦克里的感化院举行了盛大的宴会[112]，”利内翰起劲地说，“要知道，那是一年一度的午餐会。得穿那种浆洗得笔挺的衬衫。市长大人出席了——当时是维尔·狄龙。查尔斯·卡梅伦爵士和丹·道森讲了话，还有音乐。巴特尔·达西演唱了，还有本杰明·多拉德……” “我晓得，”麦科伊插了嘴，“我太太也在那儿唱过一次。” “是吗?”利内翰说。 一张写有“房间出租，自备家具”字样的牌子，又出现在埃克尔斯街七号的窗框上[113]。 他把话打住片刻，接着又喝哧喝哧地喘着气笑开了。 “等等，容我来告诉你，”他说，“卡姆登街的德拉亨特包办酒菜，鄙人是勤杂司令。布卢姆夫妇也在场。我们供应的东西可海啦：红葡萄酒、雪利酒、陈皮酒，我们也十分对得起那酒，放开量畅饮一通。喝足了才吃，大块的冷冻肘子有的是，还有百果馅饼[114]……” “我晓得，”麦科伊说，“那一年我太太也在场……” 利内翰兴奋地挽住他的胳膊。 “等一等，我来告诉你，”他说，“寻欢作乐够了，我们还吃了一顿夜宵。当我们走出来时，己经是第二天的凌晨几点[115]啦。回家的路上翻过羽床山， 好个出色的冬夜啊，布卢姆和克里斯·卡利南坐在马车的一边，我和他太太坐另一边。我们唱起来了，无伴奏的男声合唱，二重唱。看啊，清晨的微曦[116]。 她那肚带下面灌满了德拉亨特的红葡萄酒。那该死的车子每颠簸一次，她都撞在我身上。那真开心到家啦!她那一对儿可真棒，上主保佑她。像这样的。” 他凹起掌心，将双手伸到胸前一腕尺的地方，蹙着眉头说。 “我不停地为她把车毯往腿下掖，并且整一整她披的那条袭皮围巾。明白我的意思吗?” 他用两只手在半空比划出丰满曲线的造型。他快乐得双目紧闭，浑身倦缩着，嘴里吹出悦耳的小鸟啁啾声。 “反正那小子直挺挺地竖起来了，”他叹了口气说，“没错儿，那娘儿们是个浪母马。布卢姆把天上所有的星星和慧星都指给克里斯·卡利南和车把式看：什么大熊座啦，武仙座啦，天龙座啦，和其他繁星。可是，对上主发誓，我可以说是身心都沉浸在银河里了。说真格的，他全都认得出。她终于找到一颗很远很远一丁点儿大的小不点儿。'那是什么星呀，波尔迪?'她说，上主啊，她可给布卢姆出了个难题。'那一颗吗?'克里斯·卡利南说，'没错儿，那说得上是个小针眼儿[117]。哎呀，他说的倒是八九不离十。” 利内翰停下脚步，身倚河堤，低声笑得上气不接下气。 “我实在支持不住啦，”他气喘吁吁地说。 麦科伊那张白脸不时地对此泛出一丝微笑，随即神情又变得严肃起来。利内翰又往前走着。他摘下游艇帽，匆匆地挠挠后脑勺。沐浴在阳光下，他斜睨了麦科伊一眼。 “他真是有教养有见识的人，布卢姆是这样的一位，”他一本正经地说，“他不是你们那种凡夫俗子……要知道……老布卢姆身上有那么一股艺术家气质。” * * * 布卢姆先生漫不经心地翻着《玛丽亚·蒙克的骇人秘闻》[118]，然后又拿起亚理斯多德的。印刷得歪七扭八，一塌糊涂。插图有：胎儿蜷缩在一个个血红的子宫里，恰似屠宰后的母牛的肝脏。如今，全世界到处都是。统统想用脑壳往外冲撞。每一分钟都会有娃娃在什么地方诞生。普里福伊太太[119]。 他把两本书都撂在一劳，视线移到第三本上：利奥波德·封·扎赫尔－马索赫所著《犹太人区的故事》[120]。 “这本我读过，”他说着，把它推开。 书摊老板另撂了两本在柜台上。 “这两本可好咧，”他说。 隔着柜台，一股葱头气味从他那牙齿残缺不全的嘴里袭来。他弯下腰去，将其余的书捆起来，顶着没系钮扣的背心摞了摞，然后就抱到肮里肮脏的帷幕后面去丁。 奥康内尔桥上，好多人在望着舞蹈等课程的教师丹尼斯·杰·马金尼先生。他一派端庄的仪态，却穿着花里胡哨的服装。 布卢姆独自在看着书名。詹姆斯·洛夫伯奇[121]的《美丽的暴君们》。晓得是哪一类的书。有过吧?有过。 他翻了翻。as expected. 从肮里肮脏的帷幕后面传出来女人的嗓音。听：那个男人。 不行，这么厉害的不会中她的意。曾经给她弄到过一本。