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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 715/821
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and
Stephen
,
each
in
his
own
particular
way
,
both
instinctively
exchanged
meaning
glances
,
in
a
religious
silence
of
the
strictly
entre
nous
variety
however
,
towards
where
Skin
-
the
-
Goat
,
alias
the
keeper
,
not
turning
a
hair
,
was
drawing
spurts
of
liquid
from
his
boiler
affair
.
His
inscrutable
face
which
was
really
a
work
of
art
,
a
perfect
study
in
itself
,
beggaring
description
,
conveyed
the
impression
that
he
didn
’
t
understand
one
jot
of
what
was
going
on
.
Funny
,
very
!
There
ensued
a
somewhat
lengthy
pause
.
One
man
was
reading
in
fits
and
starts
a
stained
by
coffee
evening
journal
,
another
the
card
with
the
natives
choza
de
,
another
the
seaman
’
s
discharge
.
Mr
Bloom
,
so
far
as
he
was
personally
concerned
,
was
just
pondering
in
pensive
mood
.
He
vividly
recollected
when
the
occurrence
alluded
to
took
place
as
well
as
yesterday
,
roughly
some
score
of
years
previously
in
the
days
of
the
land
troubles
,
when
it
took
the
civilised
world
by
storm
,
figuratively
speaking
,
early
in
the
eighties
,
eightyone
to
be
correct
,
when
he
was
just
turned
fifteen
.
—
Ay
,
boss
,
the
sailor
broke
in
.
Give
us
back
them
papers
.
The
request
being
complied
with
he
clawed
them
up
with
a
scrape
.
—
Have
you
seen
the
rock
of
Gibraltar
?
Mr
Bloom
inquired
.
The
sailor
grimaced
,
chewing
,
in
a
way
that
might
be
read
as
yes
,
ay
or
no
.
—
Ah
,
you
’
ve
touched
there
too
,
Mr
Bloom
said
,
Europa
point
,
thinking
he
had
,
in
the
hope
that
the
rover
might
possibly
by
some
reminiscences
but
he
failed
to
do
so
,
simply
letting
spirt
a
jet
of
spew
into
the
sawdust
,
and
shook
his
head
with
a
sort
of
lazy
scorn
.
—
What
year
would
that
be
about
?
Mr
B
interrogated
.
Can
you
recall
the
boats
?
Our
soi
-
disant
sailor
munched
heavily
awhile
hungrily
before
answering
:
