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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 665/821
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I
’
ll
give
ten
to
one
!
Ten
to
one
bar
one
!
(
A
dark
horse
,
riderless
,
bolts
like
a
phantom
past
the
winningpost
,
his
mane
moonfoaming
,
his
eyeballs
stars
.
The
field
follows
,
a
bunch
of
bucking
mounts
.
Skeleton
horses
,
Sceptre
,
Maximum
the
Second
,
Zinfandel
,
the
Duke
of
Westminster
’
s
Shotover
,
Repulse
,
the
Duke
of
Beaufort
’
s
Ceylon
,
prix
de
Paris
.
Dwarfs
ride
them
,
rustyarmoured
,
leaping
,
leaping
in
their
,
in
their
saddles
.
Last
in
a
drizzle
of
rain
on
a
brokenwinded
isabelle
nag
,
Cock
of
the
North
,
the
favourite
,
honey
cap
,
green
jacket
,
orange
sleeves
,
Garrett
Deasy
up
,
gripping
the
reins
,
a
hockeystick
at
the
ready
.
His
nag
on
spavined
whitegaitered
feet
jogs
along
the
rocky
road
.
)
THE
ORANGE
LODGES
:
(
Jeering
.
)
Get
down
and
push
,
mister
.
Last
lap
!
You
’
ll
be
home
the
night
!
GARRETT
DEASY
:
(
Bolt
upright
,
his
nailscraped
face
plastered
with
postagestamps
,
brandishes
his
hockeystick
,
his
blue
eyes
flashing
in
the
prism
of
the
chandelier
as
his
mount
lopes
by
at
schooling
gallop
.
)
Per
vias
rectas
!
(
A
yoke
of
buckets
leopards
all
over
him
and
his
rearing
nag
a
torrent
of
mutton
broth
with
dancing
coins
of
carrots
,
barley
,
onions
,
turnips
,
potatoes
.
)
THE
GREEN
LODGES
:
Soft
day
,
sir
John
!
Soft
day
,
your
honour
!
(
Private
Carr
,
Private
Compton
and
Cissy
Caffrey
pass
beneath
the
windows
,
singing
in
discord
.
)
STEPHEN
:
Hark
!
Our
friend
noise
in
the
street
.
