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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 319/821
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Father
Conmee
at
the
altarrails
placed
the
host
with
difficulty
in
the
mouth
of
the
awkward
old
man
who
had
the
shaky
head
.
At
Annesley
bridge
the
tram
halted
and
,
when
it
was
about
to
go
,
an
old
woman
rose
suddenly
from
her
place
to
alight
.
The
conductor
pulled
the
bellstrap
to
stay
the
car
for
her
.
She
passed
out
with
her
basket
and
a
marketnet
:
and
Father
Conmee
saw
the
conductor
help
her
and
net
and
basket
down
:
and
Father
Conmee
thought
that
,
as
she
had
nearly
passed
the
end
of
the
penny
fare
,
she
was
one
of
those
good
souls
who
had
always
to
be
told
twice
bless
you
,
my
child
,
that
they
have
been
absolved
,
pray
for
me
.
But
they
had
so
many
worries
in
life
,
so
many
cares
,
poor
creatures
.
From
the
hoardings
Mr
Eugene
Stratton
grimaced
with
thick
niggerlips
at
Father
Conmee
.
Father
Conmee
thought
of
the
souls
of
black
and
brown
and
yellow
men
and
of
his
sermon
on
saint
Peter
Claver
S
.
J
.
and
the
African
mission
and
of
the
propagation
of
the
faith
and
of
the
millions
of
black
and
brown
and
yellow
souls
that
had
not
received
the
baptism
of
water
when
their
last
hour
came
like
a
thief
in
the
night
.
That
book
by
the
Belgian
jesuit
,
Le
Nombre
des
Élus
,
seemed
to
Father
Conmee
a
reasonable
plea
.
Those
were
millions
of
human
souls
created
by
God
in
His
Own
likeness
to
whom
the
faith
had
not
(
D
.
V
.
)
been
brought
.
But
they
were
God
’
s
souls
,
created
by
God
.
It
seemed
to
Father
Conmee
a
pity
that
they
should
all
be
lost
,
a
waste
,
if
one
might
say
.
At
the
Howth
road
stop
Father
Conmee
alighted
,
was
saluted
by
the
conductor
and
saluted
in
his
turn
.
The
Malahide
road
was
quiet
.
It
pleased
Father
Conmee
,
road
and
name
.
The
joybells
were
ringing
in
gay
Malahide
.
Lord
Talbot
de
Malahide
,
immediate
hereditary
lord
admiral
of
Malahide
and
the
seas
adjoining
.
Then
came
the
call
to
arms
and
she
was
maid
,
wife
and
widow
in
one
day
.
Those
were
old
worldish
days
,
loyal
times
in
joyous
townlands
,
old
times
in
the
barony
.
Father
Conmee
,
walking
,
thought
of
his
little
book
Old
Times
in
the
Barony
and
of
the
book
that
might
be
written
about
jesuit
houses
and
of
Mary
Rochfort
,
daughter
of
lord
Molesworth
,
first
countess
of
Belvedere
.
A
listless
lady
,
no
more
young
,
walked
alone
the
shore
of
lough
Ennel
,
Mary
,
first
countess
of
Belvedere
,
listlessly
walking
in
the
evening
,
not
startled
when
an
otter
plunged
.
Who
could
know
the
truth
?
Not
the
jealous
lord
Belvedere
and
not
her
confessor
if
she
had
not
committed
adultery
fully
,
eiaculatio
seminis
inter
vas
naturale
mulieris
,
with
her
husband
’
s
brother
?
She
would
half
confess
if
she
had
not
all
sinned
as
women
did
.
Only
God
knew
and
she
and
he
,
her
husband
’
s
brother
.
Father
Conmee
thought
of
that
tyrannous
incontinence
,
needed
however
for
man
’
s
race
on
earth
,
and
of
the
ways
of
God
which
were
not
our
ways
.
Don
John
Conmee
walked
and
moved
in
times
of
yore
.
He
was
humane
and
honoured
there
.
He
bore
in
mind
secrets
confessed
and
he
smiled
at
smiling
noble
faces
in
a
beeswaxed
drawingroom
,
ceiled
with
full
fruit
clusters
.
And
the
hands
of
a
bride
and
of
a
bridegroom
,
noble
to
noble
,
were
impalmed
by
Don
John
Conmee
.
