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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 142/821
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—
Many
a
good
man
’
s
fault
,
Mr
Dedalus
said
with
a
sigh
.
They
halted
about
the
door
of
the
mortuary
chapel
.
Mr
Bloom
stood
behind
the
boy
with
the
wreath
looking
down
at
his
sleekcombed
hair
and
at
the
slender
furrowed
neck
inside
his
brandnew
collar
.
Poor
boy
!
Was
he
there
when
the
father
?
Both
unconscious
.
Lighten
up
at
the
last
moment
and
recognise
for
the
last
time
.
All
he
might
have
done
.
I
owe
three
shillings
to
O
’
Grady
.
Would
he
understand
?
The
mutes
bore
the
coffin
into
the
chapel
.
Which
end
is
his
head
?
After
a
moment
he
followed
the
others
in
,
blinking
in
the
screened
light
.
The
coffin
lay
on
its
bier
before
the
chancel
,
four
tall
yellow
candles
at
its
corners
.
Always
in
front
of
us
.
Corny
Kelleher
,
laying
a
wreath
at
each
fore
corner
,
beckoned
to
the
boy
to
kneel
.
The
mourners
knelt
here
and
there
in
prayingdesks
.
Mr
Bloom
stood
behind
near
the
font
and
,
when
all
had
knelt
,
dropped
carefully
his
unfolded
newspaper
from
his
pocket
and
knelt
his
right
knee
upon
it
.
He
fitted
his
black
hat
gently
on
his
left
knee
and
,
holding
its
brim
,
bent
over
piously
.
A
server
bearing
a
brass
bucket
with
something
in
it
came
out
through
a
door
.
The
whitesmocked
priest
came
after
him
,
tidying
his
stole
with
one
hand
,
balancing
with
the
other
a
little
book
against
his
toad
’
s
belly
.
Who
’
ll
read
the
book
?
I
,
said
the
rook
.
They
halted
by
the
bier
and
the
priest
began
to
read
out
of
his
book
with
a
fluent
croak
.
Father
Coffey
.
I
knew
his
name
was
like
a
coffin
.
Dominenamine
.
Bully
about
the
muzzle
he
looks
.
Bosses
the
show
.
Muscular
christian
.
Woe
betide
anyone
that
looks
crooked
at
him
:
priest
.
Thou
art
Peter
.
Burst
sideways
like
a
sheep
in
clover
Dedalus
says
he
will
.
With
a
belly
on
him
like
a
poisoned
pup
.
Most
amusing
expressions
that
man
finds
.
Hhhn
:
burst
sideways
.
—
Non
intres
in
judicium
cum
servo
tuo
,
Domine
.
Makes
them
feel
more
important
to
be
prayed
over
in
Latin
.
Requiem
mass
.
Crape
weepers
.
Blackedged
notepaper
.
Your
name
on
the
altarlist
.
Chilly
place
this
.
Want
to
feed
well
,
sitting
in
there
all
the
morning
in
the
gloom
kicking
his
heels
waiting
for
the
next
please
.
Eyes
of
a
toad
too
.
What
swells
him
up
that
way
?
Molly
gets
swelled
after
cabbage
.
Air
of
the
place
maybe
.
Looks
full
up
of
bad
gas
.
Must
be
an
infernal
lot
of
bad
gas
round
the
place
.
Butchers
,
for
instance
:
they
get
like
raw
beefsteaks
.
Who
was
telling
me
?
Mervyn
Browne
.
Down
in
the
vaults
of
saint
Werburgh
’
s
lovely
old
organ
hundred
and
fifty
they
have
to
bore
a
hole
in
the
coffins
sometimes
to
let
out
the
bad
gas
and
burn
it
.
Out
it
rushes
:
blue
.
One
whiff
of
that
and
you
’
re
a
goner
.
