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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 82/821
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A
speck
of
eager
fire
from
foxeyes
thanked
him
.
He
withdrew
his
gaze
after
an
instant
.
No
:
better
not
:
another
time
.
—
Good
morning
,
he
said
,
moving
away
.
—
Good
morning
,
sir
.
No
sign
.
Gone
.
What
matter
?
He
walked
back
along
Dorset
street
,
reading
gravely
.
Agendath
Netaim
:
planters
’
company
.
To
purchase
waste
sandy
tracts
from
Turkish
government
and
plant
with
eucalyptus
trees
.
Excellent
for
shade
,
fuel
and
construction
.
Orangegroves
and
immense
melonfields
north
of
Jaffa
.
You
pay
eighty
marks
and
they
plant
a
dunam
of
land
for
you
with
olives
,
oranges
,
almonds
or
citrons
.
Olives
cheaper
:
oranges
need
artificial
irrigation
.
Every
year
you
get
a
sending
of
the
crop
.
Your
name
entered
for
life
as
owner
in
the
book
of
the
union
.
Can
pay
ten
down
and
the
balance
in
yearly
instalments
.
Bleibtreustrasse
34
,
Berlin
,
W
.
15
.
Nothing
doing
.
Still
an
idea
behind
it
.
He
looked
at
the
cattle
,
blurred
in
silver
heat
.
Silverpowdered
olivetrees
.
Quiet
long
days
:
pruning
,
ripening
.
Olives
are
packed
in
jars
,
eh
?
I
have
a
few
left
from
Andrews
.
Molly
spitting
them
out
.
Knows
the
taste
of
them
now
.
Oranges
in
tissue
paper
packed
in
crates
.
Citrons
too
.
Wonder
is
poor
Citron
still
in
Saint
Kevin
’
s
parade
.
And
Mastiansky
with
the
old
cither
.
Pleasant
evenings
we
had
then
.
Molly
in
Citron
’
s
basketchair
.
Nice
to
hold
,
cool
waxen
fruit
,
hold
in
the
hand
,
lift
it
to
the
nostrils
and
smell
the
perfume
.
Like
that
,
heavy
,
sweet
,
wild
perfume
.
Always
the
same
,
year
after
year
.
They
fetched
high
prices
too
,
Moisel
told
me
.
Arbutus
place
:
Pleasants
street
:
pleasant
old
times
.
Must
be
without
a
flaw
,
he
said
.
Coming
all
that
way
:
Spain
,
Gibraltar
,
Mediterranean
,
the
Levant
.
Crates
lined
up
on
the
quayside
at
Jaffa
,
chap
ticking
them
off
in
a
book
,
navvies
handling
them
barefoot
in
soiled
dungarees
.
There
’
s
whatdoyoucallhim
out
of
.
How
do
you
?
Doesn
’
t
see
.
Chap
you
know
just
to
salute
bit
of
a
bore
.
His
back
is
like
that
Norwegian
captain
’
s
.
Wonder
if
I
’
ll
meet
him
today
.
Watering
cart
.
To
provoke
the
rain
.
On
earth
as
it
is
in
heaven
.
A
cloud
began
to
cover
the
sun
slowly
,
wholly
.
Grey
.
Far
.
No
,
not
like
that
.
A
barren
land
,
bare
waste
.
Vulcanic
lake
,
the
dead
sea
:
no
fish
,
weedless
,
sunk
deep
in
the
earth
.
No
wind
could
lift
those
waves
,
grey
metal
,
poisonous
foggy
waters
.
Brimstone
they
called
it
raining
down
:
the
cities
of
the
plain
:
Sodom
,
Gomorrah
,
Edom
.
All
dead
names
.
A
dead
sea
in
a
dead
land
,
grey
and
old
.
Old
now
.
It
bore
the
oldest
,
the
first
race
.
A
bent
hag
crossed
from
Cassidy
’
s
,
clutching
a
naggin
bottle
by
the
neck
.
The
oldest
people
.
Wandered
far
away
over
all
the
earth
,
captivity
to
captivity
,
multiplying
,
dying
,
being
born
everywhere
.
It
lay
there
now
.
Now
it
could
bear
no
more
.
