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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 115/821
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They
waited
still
,
their
knees
jogging
,
till
they
had
turned
and
were
passing
along
the
tramtracks
.
Tritonville
road
.
Quicker
.
The
wheels
rattled
rolling
over
the
cobbled
causeway
and
the
crazy
glasses
shook
rattling
in
the
doorframes
.
—
What
way
is
he
taking
us
?
Mr
Power
asked
through
both
windows
.
—
Irishtown
,
Martin
Cunningham
said
.
Ringsend
.
Brunswick
street
.
Mr
Dedalus
nodded
,
looking
out
.
—
That
’
s
a
fine
old
custom
,
he
said
.
I
am
glad
to
see
it
has
not
died
out
.
All
watched
awhile
through
their
windows
caps
and
hats
lifted
by
passers
.
Respect
.
The
carriage
swerved
from
the
tramtrack
to
the
smoother
road
past
Watery
lane
.
Mr
Bloom
at
gaze
saw
a
lithe
young
man
,
clad
in
mourning
,
a
wide
hat
.
—
There
’
s
a
friend
of
yours
gone
by
,
Dedalus
,
he
said
.
—
Who
is
that
?
—
Your
son
and
heir
.
—
Where
is
he
?
Mr
Dedalus
said
,
stretching
over
across
.
