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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 151/821
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Mr
Bloom
stood
far
back
,
his
hat
in
his
hand
,
counting
the
bared
heads
.
Twelve
.
I
’
m
thirteen
.
No
.
The
chap
in
the
macintosh
is
thirteen
.
Death
’
s
number
.
Where
the
deuce
did
he
pop
out
of
?
He
wasn
’
t
in
the
chapel
,
that
I
’
ll
swear
.
Silly
superstition
that
about
thirteen
.
Nice
soft
tweed
Ned
Lambert
has
in
that
suit
.
Tinge
of
purple
.
I
had
one
like
that
when
we
lived
in
Lombard
street
west
.
Dressy
fellow
he
was
once
.
Used
to
change
three
suits
in
the
day
.
Must
get
that
grey
suit
of
mine
turned
by
Mesias
.
Hello
.
It
’
s
dyed
.
His
wife
I
forgot
he
’
s
not
married
or
his
landlady
ought
to
have
picked
out
those
threads
for
him
.
The
coffin
dived
out
of
sight
,
eased
down
by
the
men
straddled
on
the
gravetrestles
.
They
struggled
up
and
out
:
and
all
uncovered
.
Twenty
.
Pause
.
If
we
were
all
suddenly
somebody
else
.
Far
away
a
donkey
brayed
.
Rain
.
No
such
ass
.
Never
see
a
dead
one
,
they
say
.
Shame
of
death
.
They
hide
.
Also
poor
papa
went
away
.
Gentle
sweet
air
blew
round
the
bared
heads
in
a
whisper
.
Whisper
.
The
boy
by
the
gravehead
held
his
wreath
with
both
hands
staring
quietly
in
the
black
open
space
.
Mr
Bloom
moved
behind
the
portly
kindly
caretaker
.
Wellcut
frockcoat
.
Weighing
them
up
perhaps
to
see
which
will
go
next
.
Well
,
it
is
a
long
rest
.
Feel
no
more
.
It
’
s
the
moment
you
feel
.
Must
be
damned
unpleasant
.
Can
’
t
believe
it
at
first
.
Mistake
must
be
:
someone
else
.
Try
the
house
opposite
.
Wait
,
I
wanted
to
.
I
haven
’
t
yet
.
Then
darkened
deathchamber
.
Light
they
want
.
Whispering
around
you
.
Would
you
like
to
see
a
priest
?
Then
rambling
and
wandering
.
Delirium
all
you
hid
all
your
life
.
The
death
struggle
.
His
sleep
is
not
natural
.
Press
his
lower
eyelid
.
Watching
is
his
nose
pointed
is
his
jaw
sinking
are
the
soles
of
his
feet
yellow
.
Pull
the
pillow
away
and
finish
it
off
on
the
floor
since
he
’
s
doomed
.
Devil
in
that
picture
of
sinner
’
s
death
showing
him
a
woman
.
Dying
to
embrace
her
in
his
shirt
.
Last
act
of
Lucia
.
Shall
I
nevermore
behold
thee
?
Bam
!
He
expires
.
Gone
at
last
.
People
talk
about
you
a
bit
:
forget
you
.
Don
’
t
forget
to
pray
for
him
.
Remember
him
in
your
prayers
.
Even
Parnell
.
Ivy
day
dying
out
.
Then
they
follow
:
dropping
into
a
hole
,
one
after
the
other
.
We
are
praying
now
for
the
repose
of
his
soul
.
Hoping
you
’
re
well
and
not
in
hell
.
Nice
change
of
air
.
Out
of
the
fryingpan
of
life
into
the
fire
of
purgatory
.
Does
he
ever
think
of
the
hole
waiting
for
himself
?
They
say
you
do
when
you
shiver
in
the
sun
.
Someone
walking
over
it
.
Callboy
’
s
warning
.
Near
you
.
Mine
over
there
towards
Finglas
,
the
plot
I
bought
.
Mamma
,
poor
mamma
,
and
little
Rudy
.
