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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 50/821
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Give
hands
,
traverse
,
bow
to
partner
:
so
:
imps
of
fancy
of
the
Moors
.
Gone
too
from
the
world
,
Averroes
and
Moses
Maimonides
,
dark
men
in
mien
and
movement
,
flashing
in
their
mocking
mirrors
the
obscure
soul
of
the
world
,
a
darkness
shining
in
brightness
which
brightness
could
not
comprehend
.
—
Do
you
understand
now
?
Can
you
work
the
second
for
yourself
?
—
Yes
,
sir
.
In
long
shaky
strokes
Sargent
copied
the
data
.
Waiting
always
for
a
word
of
help
his
hand
moved
faithfully
the
unsteady
symbols
,
a
faint
hue
of
shame
flickering
behind
his
dull
skin
.
Amor
matris
:
subjective
and
objective
genitive
.
With
her
weak
blood
and
wheysour
milk
she
had
fed
him
and
hid
from
sight
of
others
his
swaddling
bands
.
Like
him
was
I
,
these
sloping
shoulders
,
this
gracelessness
.
My
childhood
bends
beside
me
.
Too
far
for
me
to
lay
a
hand
there
once
or
lightly
.
Mine
is
far
and
his
secret
as
our
eyes
.
Secrets
,
silent
,
stony
sit
in
the
dark
palaces
of
both
our
hearts
:
secrets
weary
of
their
tyranny
:
tyrants
,
willing
to
be
dethroned
.
The
sum
was
done
.
—
It
is
very
simple
,
Stephen
said
as
he
stood
up
.
—
Yes
,
sir
.
Thanks
,
Sargent
answered
.
He
dried
the
page
with
a
sheet
of
thin
blottingpaper
and
carried
his
copybook
back
to
his
bench
.
—
You
had
better
get
your
stick
and
go
out
to
the
others
,
Stephen
said
as
he
followed
towards
the
door
the
boy
’
s
graceless
form
.
