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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 67/821
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Walter
squints
vainly
for
a
chair
.
—
He
has
nothing
to
sit
down
on
,
sir
.
—
He
has
nowhere
to
put
it
,
you
mug
.
Bring
in
our
chippendale
chair
.
Would
you
like
a
bite
of
something
?
None
of
your
damned
lawdeedaw
airs
here
.
The
rich
of
a
rasher
fried
with
a
herring
?
Sure
?
So
much
the
better
.
We
have
nothing
in
the
house
but
backache
pills
.
All
’
erta
!
He
drones
bars
of
Ferrando
’
s
aria
di
sortita
.
The
grandest
number
,
Stephen
,
in
the
whole
opera
.
Listen
.
His
tuneful
whistle
sounds
again
,
finely
shaded
,
with
rushes
of
the
air
,
his
fists
bigdrumming
on
his
padded
knees
.
This
wind
is
sweeter
.
Houses
of
decay
,
mine
,
his
and
all
.
You
told
the
Clongowes
gentry
you
had
an
uncle
a
judge
and
an
uncle
a
general
in
the
army
.
Come
out
of
them
,
Stephen
.
Beauty
is
not
there
.
Nor
in
the
stagnant
bay
of
Marsh
’
s
library
where
you
read
the
fading
prophecies
of
Joachim
Abbas
.
For
whom
?
The
hundredheaded
rabble
of
the
cathedral
close
.
A
hater
of
his
kind
ran
from
them
to
the
wood
of
madness
,
his
mane
foaming
in
the
moon
,
his
eyeballs
stars
.
Houyhnhnm
,
horsenostrilled
.
The
oval
equine
faces
,
Temple
,
Buck
Mulligan
,
Foxy
Campbell
,
Lanternjaws
.
Abbas
father
,
furious
dean
,
what
offence
laid
fire
to
their
brains
?
Paff
!
Descende
,
calve
,
ut
ne
nimium
decalveris
.
A
garland
of
grey
hair
on
his
comminated
head
see
him
me
clambering
down
to
the
footpace
(
descende
!
)
,
clutching
a
monstrance
,
basiliskeyed
.
Get
down
,
baldpoll
!
A
choir
gives
back
menace
and
echo
,
assisting
about
the
altar
’
s
horns
,
the
snorted
Latin
of
jackpriests
moving
burly
in
their
albs
,
tonsured
and
oiled
and
gelded
,
fat
with
the
fat
of
kidneys
of
wheat
.
And
at
the
same
instant
perhaps
a
priest
round
the
corner
is
elevating
it
.
Dringdring
!
And
two
streets
off
another
locking
it
into
a
pyx
.
Dringadring
!
And
in
a
ladychapel
another
taking
housel
all
to
his
own
cheek
.
Dringdring
!
Down
,
up
,
forward
,
back
.
Dan
Occam
thought
of
that
,
invincible
doctor
.
A
misty
English
morning
the
imp
hypostasis
tickled
his
brain
.
Bringing
his
host
down
and
kneeling
he
heard
twine
with
his
second
bell
the
first
bell
in
the
transept
(
he
is
lifting
his
)
and
,
rising
,
heard
(
now
I
am
lifting
)
their
two
bells
(
he
is
kneeling
)
twang
in
diphthong
.
