-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Улисс
-
- Стр. 335/821
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
—
God
!
he
cried
.
I
forgot
to
tell
him
that
one
about
the
earl
of
Kildare
after
he
set
fire
to
Cashel
cathedral
.
You
know
that
one
?
I
’
m
bloody
sorry
I
did
it
,
says
he
,
but
I
declare
to
God
I
thought
the
archbishop
was
inside
.
He
mightn
’
t
like
it
,
though
.
What
?
God
,
I
’
ll
tell
him
anyhow
.
That
was
the
great
earl
,
the
Fitzgerald
Mor
.
Hot
members
they
were
all
of
them
,
the
Geraldines
.
The
horses
he
passed
started
nervously
under
their
slack
harness
.
He
slapped
a
piebald
haunch
quivering
near
him
and
cried
:
—
Woa
,
sonny
!
He
turned
to
J
.
J
.
O
’
Molloy
and
asked
:
—
Well
,
Jack
.
What
is
it
?
What
’
s
the
trouble
?
Wait
awhile
.
Hold
hard
.
With
gaping
mouth
and
head
far
back
he
stood
still
and
,
after
an
instant
,
sneezed
loudly
.
—
Chow
!
he
said
.
Blast
you
!
—
The
dust
from
those
sacks
,
J
.
J
.
O
’
Molloy
said
politely
.
—
No
,
Ned
Lambert
gasped
,
I
caught
a
.
.
.
cold
night
before
.
.
.
blast
your
soul
.
.
.
night
before
last
.
.
.
and
there
was
a
hell
of
a
lot
of
draught
.
.
.
