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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 351/821
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Aham
!
Must
dress
the
character
for
those
fellows
.
Knight
of
the
road
.
Gentleman
.
And
now
,
Mr
Crimmins
,
may
we
have
the
honour
of
your
custom
again
,
sir
.
The
cup
that
cheers
but
not
inebriates
,
as
the
old
saying
has
it
.
North
wall
and
sir
John
Rogerson
’
s
quay
,
with
hulls
and
anchorchains
,
sailing
westward
,
sailed
by
a
skiff
,
a
crumpled
throwaway
,
rocked
on
the
ferrywash
,
Elijah
is
coming
.
Mr
Kernan
glanced
in
farewell
at
his
image
.
High
colour
,
of
course
.
Grizzled
moustache
.
Returned
Indian
officer
.
Bravely
he
bore
his
stumpy
body
forward
on
spatted
feet
,
squaring
his
shoulders
.
Is
that
Ned
Lambert
’
s
brother
over
the
way
,
Sam
?
What
?
Yes
.
He
’
s
as
like
it
as
damn
it
.
No
.
The
windscreen
of
that
motorcar
in
the
sun
there
.
Just
a
flash
like
that
.
Damn
like
him
.
Aham
!
Hot
spirit
of
juniper
juice
warmed
his
vitals
and
his
breath
.
Good
drop
of
gin
,
that
was
.
His
frocktails
winked
in
bright
sunshine
to
his
fat
strut
.
Down
there
Emmet
was
hanged
,
drawn
and
quartered
.
Greasy
black
rope
.
Dogs
licking
the
blood
off
the
street
when
the
lord
lieutenant
’
s
wife
drove
by
in
her
noddy
.
Bad
times
those
were
.
Well
,
well
.
Over
and
done
with
.
Great
topers
too
.
Fourbottle
men
.
Let
me
see
.
Is
he
buried
in
saint
Michan
’
s
?
Or
no
,
there
was
a
midnight
burial
in
Glasnevin
.
Corpse
brought
in
through
a
secret
door
in
the
wall
.
Dignam
is
there
now
.
Went
out
in
a
puff
.
Well
,
well
.
Better
turn
down
here
.
Make
a
detour
.
Mr
Kernan
turned
and
walked
down
the
slope
of
Watling
street
by
the
corner
of
Guinness
’
s
visitors
’
waitingroom
.
Outside
the
Dublin
Distillers
Company
’
s
stores
an
outside
car
without
fare
or
jarvey
stood
,
the
reins
knotted
to
the
wheel
.
Damn
dangerous
thing
.
Some
Tipperary
bosthoon
endangering
the
lives
of
the
citizens
.
Runaway
horse
.
Denis
Breen
with
his
tomes
,
weary
of
having
waited
an
hour
in
John
Henry
Menton
’
s
office
,
led
his
wife
over
O
’
Connell
bridge
,
bound
for
the
office
of
Messrs
Collis
and
Ward
.
