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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 281/821
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Mr
Best
turned
to
him
.
—
Haines
missed
you
,
he
said
.
Did
you
meet
him
?
He
’
ll
see
you
after
at
the
D
.
B
.
C
.
He
’
s
gone
to
Gill
’
s
to
buy
Hyde
’
s
Lovesongs
of
Connacht
.
—
I
came
through
the
museum
,
Buck
Mulligan
said
.
Was
he
here
?
—
The
bard
’
s
fellowcountrymen
,
John
Eglinton
answered
,
are
rather
tired
perhaps
of
our
brilliancies
of
theorising
.
I
hear
that
an
actress
played
Hamlet
for
the
fourhundredandeighth
time
last
night
in
Dublin
.
Vining
held
that
the
prince
was
a
woman
.
Has
no
-
one
made
him
out
to
be
an
Irishman
?
Judge
Barton
,
I
believe
,
is
searching
for
some
clues
.
He
swears
(
His
Highness
not
His
Lordship
)
by
saint
Patrick
.
—
The
most
brilliant
of
all
is
that
story
of
Wilde
’
s
,
Mr
Best
said
,
lifting
his
brilliant
notebook
.
That
Portrait
of
Mr
W
.
H
.
where
he
proves
that
the
sonnets
were
written
by
a
Willie
Hughes
,
a
man
all
hues
.
—
For
Willie
Hughes
,
is
it
not
?
the
quaker
librarian
asked
.
Or
Hughie
Wills
?
Mr
William
Himself
.
W
.
H
.
:
who
am
I
?
—
I
mean
,
for
Willie
Hughes
,
Mr
Best
said
,
amending
his
gloss
easily
.
Of
course
it
’
s
all
paradox
,
don
’
t
you
know
,
Hughes
and
hews
and
hues
,
the
colour
,
but
it
’
s
so
typical
the
way
he
works
it
out
.
It
’
s
the
very
essence
of
Wilde
,
don
’
t
you
know
.
The
light
touch
.
His
glance
touched
their
faces
lightly
as
he
smiled
,
a
blond
ephebe
.
Tame
essence
of
Wilde
.
