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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 423/821
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She
had
a
gorgeous
,
simply
gorgeous
,
time
.
And
look
at
the
lovely
shell
she
brought
.
To
the
end
of
the
bar
to
him
she
bore
lightly
the
spiked
and
winding
seahorn
that
he
,
George
Lidwell
,
solicitor
,
might
hear
.
—
Listen
!
she
bade
him
.
Under
Tom
Kernan
’
s
ginhot
words
the
accompanist
wove
music
slow
.
Authentic
fact
.
How
Walter
Bapty
lost
his
voice
.
Well
,
sir
,
the
husband
took
him
by
the
throat
.
Scoundrel
,
said
he
,
You
’
ll
sing
no
more
lovesongs
.
He
did
,
faith
,
sir
Tom
.
Bob
Cowley
wove
.
Tenors
get
wom
.
Cowley
lay
back
.
Ah
,
now
he
heard
,
she
holding
it
to
his
ear
.
Hear
!
He
heard
.
Wonderful
.
She
held
it
to
her
own
.
And
through
the
sifted
light
pale
gold
in
contrast
glided
.
To
hear
.
Tap
.
Bloom
through
the
bardoor
saw
a
shell
held
at
their
ears
.
He
heard
more
faintly
that
that
they
heard
,
each
for
herself
alone
,
then
each
for
other
,
hearing
the
plash
of
waves
,
loudly
,
a
silent
roar
.
Bronze
by
a
weary
gold
,
anear
,
afar
,
they
listened
.
Her
ear
too
is
a
shell
,
the
peeping
lobe
there
.
Been
to
the
seaside
.
Lovely
seaside
girls
.
Skin
tanned
raw
.
Should
have
put
on
coldcream
first
make
it
brown
.
Buttered
toast
.
O
and
that
lotion
mustn
’
t
forget
.
Fever
near
her
mouth
.
Your
head
it
simply
.
Hair
braided
over
:
shell
with
seaweed
.
Why
do
they
hide
their
ears
with
seaweed
hair
?
And
Turks
the
mouth
,
why
?
Her
eyes
over
the
sheet
.
Yashmak
.
Find
the
way
in
.
A
cave
.
No
admittance
except
on
business
.
