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- Джеймс Джойс
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—
The
ghost
walks
,
professor
MacHugh
murmured
softly
,
biscuitfully
to
the
dusty
windowpane
.
Mr
Dedalus
,
staring
from
the
empty
fireplace
at
Ned
Lambert
’
s
quizzing
face
,
asked
of
it
sourly
:
—
Agonising
Christ
,
wouldn
’
t
it
give
you
a
heartburn
on
your
arse
?
Ned
Lambert
,
seated
on
the
table
,
read
on
:
—
Or
again
,
note
the
meanderings
of
some
purling
rill
as
it
babbles
on
its
way
,
tho
’
quarrelling
with
the
stony
obstacles
,
to
the
tumbling
waters
of
Neptune
’
s
blue
domain
,
’
mid
mossy
banks
,
fanned
by
gentlest
zephyrs
,
played
on
by
the
glorious
sunlight
or
’
neath
the
shadows
cast
o
’
er
its
pensive
bosom
by
the
overarching
leafage
of
the
giants
of
the
forest
.
What
about
that
,
Simon
?
he
asked
over
the
fringe
of
his
newspaper
.
How
’
s
that
for
high
?
—
Changing
his
drink
,
Mr
Dedalus
said
.
Ned
Lambert
,
laughing
,
struck
the
newspaper
on
his
knees
,
repeating
:
—
The
pensive
bosom
and
the
overarsing
leafage
.
O
boys
!
O
boys
!
—
And
Xenophon
looked
upon
Marathon
,
Mr
Dedalus
said
,
looking
again
on
the
fireplace
and
to
the
window
,
and
Marathon
looked
on
the
sea
.
—
That
will
do
,
professor
MacHugh
cried
from
the
window
.
I
don
’
t
want
to
hear
any
more
of
the
stuff
.
