-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Улисс
-
- Стр. 512/821
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Miss
puny
little
Edy
’
s
countenance
fell
to
no
slight
extent
and
Gerty
could
see
by
her
looking
as
black
as
thunder
that
she
was
simply
in
a
towering
rage
though
she
hid
it
,
the
little
kinnatt
,
because
that
shaft
had
struck
home
for
her
petty
jealousy
and
they
both
knew
that
she
was
something
aloof
,
apart
,
in
another
sphere
,
that
she
was
not
of
them
and
never
would
be
and
there
was
somebody
else
too
that
knew
it
and
saw
it
so
they
could
put
that
in
their
pipe
and
smoke
it
.
Edy
straightened
up
baby
Boardman
to
get
ready
to
go
and
Cissy
tucked
in
the
ball
and
the
spades
and
buckets
and
it
was
high
time
too
because
the
sandman
was
on
his
way
for
Master
Boardman
junior
.
And
Cissy
told
him
too
that
billy
winks
was
coming
and
that
baby
was
to
go
deedaw
and
baby
looked
just
too
ducky
,
laughing
up
out
of
his
gleeful
eyes
,
and
Cissy
poked
him
like
that
out
of
fun
in
his
wee
fat
tummy
and
baby
,
without
as
much
as
by
your
leave
,
sent
up
his
compliments
to
all
and
sundry
on
to
his
brandnew
dribbling
bib
.
—
O
my
!
Puddeny
pie
!
protested
Ciss
.
He
has
his
bib
destroyed
.
The
slight
contretemps
claimed
her
attention
but
in
two
twos
she
set
that
little
matter
to
rights
.
Gerty
stifled
a
smothered
exclamation
and
gave
a
nervous
cough
and
Edy
asked
what
and
she
was
just
going
to
tell
her
to
catch
it
while
it
was
flying
but
she
was
ever
ladylike
in
her
deportment
so
she
simply
passed
it
off
with
consummate
tact
by
saying
that
that
was
the
benediction
because
just
then
the
bell
rang
out
from
the
steeple
over
the
quiet
seashore
because
Canon
O
’
Hanlon
was
up
on
the
altar
with
the
veil
that
Father
Conroy
put
round
his
shoulders
giving
the
benediction
with
the
Blessed
Sacrament
in
his
hands
.
How
moving
the
scene
there
in
the
gathering
twilight
,
the
last
glimpse
of
Erin
,
the
touching
chime
of
those
evening
bells
and
at
the
same
time
a
bat
flew
forth
from
the
ivied
belfry
through
the
dusk
,
hither
,
thither
,
with
a
tiny
lost
cry
.
And
she
could
see
far
away
the
lights
of
the
lighthouses
so
picturesque
she
would
have
loved
to
do
with
a
box
of
paints
because
it
was
easier
than
to
make
a
man
and
soon
the
lamplighter
would
be
going
his
rounds
past
the
presbyterian
church
grounds
and
along
by
shady
Tritonville
avenue
where
the
couples
walked
and
lighting
the
lamp
near
her
window
where
Reggy
Wylie
used
to
turn
his
freewheel
like
she
read
in
that
book
The
Lamplighter
by
Miss
Cummins
,
author
of
Mabel
Vaughan
and
other
tales
.
For
Gerty
had
her
dreams
that
no
-
one
knew
of
.
She
loved
to
read
poetry
and
when
she
got
a
keepsake
from
Bertha
Supple
of
that
lovely
confession
album
with
the
coralpink
cover
to
write
her
thoughts
in
she
laid
it
in
the
drawer
of
her
toilettable
which
,
though
it
did
not
err
on
the
side
of
luxury
,
was
scrupulously
neat
and
clean
.
It
was
there
she
kept
her
girlish
treasure
trove
,
the
tortoiseshell
combs
,
her
child
of
Mary
badge
,
the
whiterose
scent
,
the
eyebrowleine
,
her
alabaster
pouncetbox
and
the
ribbons
to
change
when
her
things
came
home
from
the
wash
and
there
were
some
beautiful
thoughts
written
in
it
in
violet
ink
that
she
bought
in
Hely
’
s
of
Dame
Street
for
she
felt
that
she
too
could
write
poetry
if
she
could
only
express
herself
like
that
poem
that
appealed
to
her
so
deeply
that
she
had
copied
out
of
the
newspaper
she
found
one
evening
round
the
potherbs
.
Art
thou
real
,
my
ideal
?
it
was
called
by
Louis
J
Walsh
,
Magherafelt
,
and
after
there
was
something
about
twilight
,
wilt
thou
ever
?
and
ofttimes
the
beauty
of
poetry
,
so
sad
in
its
transient
loveliness
,
had
misted
her
eyes
with
silent
tears
for
she
felt
that
the
years
were
slipping
by
for
her
,
one
by
one
,
and
but
for
that
one
shortcoming
she
knew
she
need
fear
no
competition
and
that
was
an
accident
coming
down
Dalkey
hill
and
she
always
tried
to
conceal
it
.
But
it
must
end
,
she
felt
.
If
she
saw
that
magic
lure
in
his
eyes
there
would
be
no
holding
back
for
her
.
Love
laughs
at
locksmiths
.
She
would
make
the
great
sacrifice
.
Her
every
effort
would
be
to
share
his
thoughts
.
Dearer
than
the
whole
world
would
she
be
to
him
and
gild
his
days
with
happiness
.
There
was
the
allimportant
question
and
she
was
dying
to
know
was
he
a
married
man
or
a
widower
who
had
lost
his
wife
or
some
tragedy
like
the
nobleman
with
the
foreign
name
from
the
land
of
song
had
to
have
her
put
into
a
madhouse
,
cruel
only
to
be
kind
.
But
even
if
—
what
then
?
Would
it
make
a
very
great
difference
?
From
everything
in
the
least
indelicate
her
finebred
nature
instinctively
recoiled
.
She
loathed
that
sort
of
person
,
the
fallen
women
off
the
accommodation
walk
beside
the
Dodder
that
went
with
the
soldiers
and
coarse
men
with
no
respect
for
a
girl
’
s
honour
,
degrading
the
sex
and
being
taken
up
to
the
police
station
.
No
,
no
:
not
that
.
They
would
be
just
good
friends
like
a
big
brother
and
sister
without
all
that
other
in
spite
of
the
conventions
of
Society
with
a
big
ess
.
Perhaps
it
was
an
old
flame
he
was
in
mourning
for
from
the
days
beyond
recall
.
She
thought
she
understood
.
She
would
try
to
understand
him
because
men
were
so
different
.
The
old
love
was
waiting
,
waiting
with
little
white
hands
stretched
out
,
with
blue
appealing
eyes
.
Heart
of
mine
!
She
would
follow
,
her
dream
of
love
,
the
dictates
of
her
heart
that
told
her
he
was
her
all
in
all
,
the
only
man
in
all
the
world
for
her
for
love
was
the
master
guide
.
Nothing
else
mattered
.
Come
what
might
she
would
be
wild
,
untrammelled
,
free
.
Canon
O
’
Hanlon
put
the
Blessed
Sacrament
back
into
the
tabernacle
and
genuflected
and
the
choir
sang
Laudate
Dominum
omnes
gentes
and
then
he
locked
the
tabernacle
door
because
the
benediction
was
over
and
Father
Conroy
handed
him
his
hat
to
put
on
and
crosscat
Edy
asked
wasn
’
t
she
coming
but
Jacky
Caffrey
called
out
:
—
O
,
look
,
Cissy
!
