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- Джеймс Джойс
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—
Bad
luck
to
the
jewman
that
made
them
,
Ben
Dollard
said
.
Thanks
be
to
God
he
’
s
not
paid
yet
.
—
And
how
is
that
basso
profondo
,
Benjamin
?
Father
Cowley
asked
.
Cashel
Boyle
O
’
Connor
Fitzmaurice
Tisdall
Farrell
,
murmuring
,
glassyeyed
,
strode
past
the
Kildare
street
club
.
Ben
Dollard
frowned
and
,
making
suddenly
a
chanter
’
s
mouth
,
gave
forth
a
deep
note
.
—
Aw
!
he
said
.
—
That
’
s
the
style
,
Mr
Dedalus
said
,
nodding
to
its
drone
.
—
What
about
that
?
Ben
Dollard
said
.
Not
too
dusty
?
What
?
He
turned
to
both
.
—
That
’
ll
do
,
Father
Cowley
said
,
nodding
also
.
The
reverend
Hugh
C
.
Love
walked
from
the
old
chapterhouse
of
saint
Mary
’
s
abbey
past
James
and
Charles
Kennedy
’
s
,
rectifiers
,
attended
by
Geraldines
tall
and
personable
,
towards
the
Tholsel
beyond
the
ford
of
hurdles
.
