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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 543/821
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THE
MOTORMAN
:
Hey
,
shitbreeches
,
are
you
doing
the
hat
trick
?
(
Bloom
trickleaps
to
the
curbstone
and
halts
again
.
He
brushes
a
mudflake
from
his
cheek
with
a
parcelled
hand
.
)
BLOOM
:
No
thoroughfare
.
Close
shave
that
but
cured
the
stitch
.
Must
take
up
Sandow
’
s
exercises
again
.
On
the
hands
down
.
Insure
against
street
accident
too
.
The
Providential
.
(
He
feels
his
trouser
pocket
.
)
Poor
mamma
’
s
panacea
.
Heel
easily
catch
in
track
or
bootlace
in
a
cog
.
Day
the
wheel
of
the
black
Maria
peeled
off
my
shoe
at
Leonard
’
s
corner
.
Third
time
is
the
charm
.
Shoe
trick
.
Insolent
driver
.
I
ought
to
report
him
.
Tension
makes
them
nervous
.
Might
be
the
fellow
balked
me
this
morning
with
that
horsey
woman
.
Same
style
of
beauty
.
Quick
of
him
all
the
same
.
The
stiff
walk
.
True
word
spoken
in
jest
.
That
awful
cramp
in
Lad
lane
.
Something
poisonous
I
ate
.
Emblem
of
luck
.
Why
?
Probably
lost
cattle
.
Mark
of
the
beast
.
(
He
closes
his
eyes
an
instant
.
)
Bit
light
in
the
head
.
Monthly
or
effect
of
the
other
.
Brainfogfag
.
That
tired
feeling
.
Too
much
for
me
now
.
Ow
!
(
A
sinister
figure
leans
on
plaited
legs
against
O
’
Beirne
’
s
wall
,
a
visage
unknown
,
injected
with
dark
mercury
.
From
under
a
wideleaved
sombrero
the
figure
regards
him
with
evil
eye
.
)
BLOOM
:
Buenas
noches
,
señorita
Blanca
,
que
calle
es
esta
?
THE
FIGURE
:
(
Impassive
,
raises
a
signal
arm
.
)
Password
.
Sraid
Mabbot
.
BLOOM
:
Haha
.
Merci
.
Esperanto
.
Slan
leath
.
(
He
mutters
.
)
Gaelic
league
spy
,
sent
by
that
fireeater
.
(
He
steps
forward
.
A
sackshouldered
ragman
bars
his
path
.
He
steps
left
,
ragsackman
left
.
)
BLOOM
:
I
beg
.
