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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 143/821
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My
kneecap
is
hurting
me
.
Ow
.
That
’
s
better
.
The
priest
took
a
stick
with
a
knob
at
the
end
of
it
out
of
the
boy
’
s
bucket
and
shook
it
over
the
coffin
.
Then
he
walked
to
the
other
end
and
shook
it
again
.
Then
he
came
back
and
put
it
back
in
the
bucket
.
As
you
were
before
you
rested
.
It
’
s
all
written
down
:
he
has
to
do
it
.
—
Et
ne
nos
inducas
in
tentationem
.
The
server
piped
the
answers
in
the
treble
.
I
often
thought
it
would
be
better
to
have
boy
servants
.
Up
to
fifteen
or
so
.
After
that
,
of
course
.
.
.
Holy
water
that
was
,
I
expect
.
Shaking
sleep
out
of
it
.
He
must
be
fed
up
with
that
job
,
shaking
that
thing
over
all
the
corpses
they
trot
up
.
What
harm
if
he
could
see
what
he
was
shaking
it
over
.
Every
mortal
day
a
fresh
batch
:
middleaged
men
,
old
women
,
children
,
women
dead
in
childbirth
,
men
with
beards
,
baldheaded
businessmen
,
consumptive
girls
with
little
sparrows
’
breasts
.
All
the
year
round
he
prayed
the
same
thing
over
them
all
and
shook
water
on
top
of
them
:
sleep
.
On
Dignam
now
.
—
In
paradisum
.
Said
he
was
going
to
paradise
or
is
in
paradise
.
Says
that
over
everybody
.
Tiresome
kind
of
a
job
.
But
he
has
to
say
something
.
The
priest
closed
his
book
and
went
off
,
followed
by
the
server
.
Corny
Kelleher
opened
the
sidedoors
and
the
gravediggers
came
in
,
hoisted
the
coffin
again
,
carried
it
out
and
shoved
it
on
their
cart
.
Corny
Kelleher
gave
one
wreath
to
the
boy
and
one
to
the
brother
-
in
-
law
.
All
followed
them
out
of
the
sidedoors
into
the
mild
grey
air
.
Mr
Bloom
came
last
folding
his
paper
again
into
his
pocket
.
He
gazed
gravely
at
the
ground
till
the
coffincart
wheeled
off
to
the
left
.
The
metal
wheels
ground
the
gravel
with
a
sharp
grating
cry
and
the
pack
of
blunt
boots
followed
the
trundled
barrow
along
a
lane
of
sepulchres
.
The
ree
the
ra
the
ree
the
ra
the
roo
.
Lord
,
I
mustn
’
t
lilt
here
.
