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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 463/821
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—
The
wife
’
s
advisers
,
I
mean
,
says
Bloom
.
Then
he
starts
all
confused
mucking
it
up
about
mortgagor
under
the
act
like
the
lord
chancellor
giving
it
out
on
the
bench
and
for
the
benefit
of
the
wife
and
that
a
trust
is
created
but
on
the
other
hand
that
Dignam
owed
Bridgeman
the
money
and
if
now
the
wife
or
the
widow
contested
the
mortgagee
’
s
right
till
he
near
had
the
head
of
me
addled
with
his
mortgagor
under
the
act
.
He
was
bloody
safe
he
wasn
’
t
run
in
himself
under
the
act
that
time
as
a
rogue
and
vagabond
only
he
had
a
friend
in
court
.
Selling
bazaar
tickets
or
what
do
you
call
it
royal
Hungarian
privileged
lottery
.
True
as
you
’
re
there
.
O
,
commend
me
to
an
israelite
!
Royal
and
privileged
Hungarian
robbery
.
So
Bob
Doran
comes
lurching
around
asking
Bloom
to
tell
Mrs
Dignam
he
was
sorry
for
her
trouble
and
he
was
very
sorry
about
the
funeral
and
to
tell
her
that
he
said
and
everyone
who
knew
him
said
that
there
was
never
a
truer
,
a
finer
than
poor
little
Willy
that
’
s
dead
to
tell
her
.
Choking
with
bloody
foolery
.
And
shaking
Bloom
’
s
hand
doing
the
tragic
to
tell
her
that
.
Shake
hands
,
brother
.
You
’
re
a
rogue
and
I
’
m
another
.
—
Let
me
,
said
he
,
so
far
presume
upon
our
acquaintance
which
,
however
slight
it
may
appear
if
judged
by
the
standard
of
mere
time
,
is
founded
,
as
I
hope
and
believe
,
on
a
sentiment
of
mutual
esteem
as
to
request
of
you
this
favour
.
But
,
should
I
have
overstepped
the
limits
of
reserve
let
the
sincerity
of
my
feelings
be
the
excuse
for
my
boldness
.
—
No
,
rejoined
the
other
,
I
appreciate
to
the
full
the
motives
which
actuate
your
conduct
and
I
shall
discharge
the
office
you
entrust
to
me
consoled
by
the
reflection
that
,
though
the
errand
be
one
of
sorrow
,
this
proof
of
your
confidence
sweetens
in
some
measure
the
bitterness
of
the
cup
.
—
Then
suffer
me
to
take
your
hand
,
said
he
.
The
goodness
of
your
heart
,
I
feel
sure
,
will
dictate
to
you
better
than
my
inadequate
words
the
expressions
which
are
most
suitable
to
convey
an
emotion
whose
poignancy
,
were
I
to
give
vent
to
my
feelings
,
would
deprive
me
even
of
speech
.
And
off
with
him
and
out
trying
to
walk
straight
.
Boosed
at
five
o
’
clock
.
Night
he
was
near
being
lagged
only
Paddy
Leonard
knew
the
bobby
,
14A
.
Blind
to
the
world
up
in
a
shebeen
in
Bride
street
after
closing
time
,
fornicating
with
two
shawls
and
a
bully
on
guard
,
drinking
porter
out
of
teacups
.
And
calling
himself
a
Frenchy
for
the
shawls
,
Joseph
Manuo
,
and
talking
against
the
Catholic
religion
,
and
he
serving
mass
in
Adam
and
Eve
’
s
when
he
was
young
with
his
eyes
shut
,
who
wrote
the
new
testament
,
and
the
old
testament
,
and
hugging
and
smugging
.
And
the
two
shawls
killed
with
the
laughing
,
picking
his
pockets
,
the
bloody
fool
and
he
spilling
the
porter
all
over
the
bed
and
the
two
shawls
screeching
laughing
at
one
another
.
How
is
your
testament
?
Have
you
got
an
old
testament
?
Only
Paddy
was
passing
there
,
I
tell
you
what
.
Then
see
him
of
a
Sunday
with
his
little
concubine
of
a
wife
,
and
she
wagging
her
tail
up
the
aisle
of
the
chapel
with
her
patent
boots
on
her
,
no
less
,
and
her
violets
,
nice
as
pie
,
doing
the
little
lady
.
Jack
Mooney
’
s
sister
.
And
the
old
prostitute
of
a
mother
procuring
rooms
to
street
couples
.
Gob
,
Jack
made
him
toe
the
line
.
Told
him
if
he
didn
’
t
patch
up
the
pot
,
Jesus
,
he
’
d
kick
the
shite
out
of
him
.
So
Terry
brought
the
three
pints
.
—
Here
,
says
Joe
,
doing
the
honours
.
Here
,
citizen
.
