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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 96/821
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Under
their
dropped
lids
his
eyes
found
the
tiny
bow
of
the
leather
headband
inside
his
high
grade
ha
.
Just
there
.
His
right
hand
came
down
into
the
bowl
of
his
hat
.
His
fingers
found
quickly
a
card
behind
the
headband
and
transferred
it
to
his
waistcoat
pocket
.
So
warm
.
His
right
hand
once
more
more
slowly
went
over
his
brow
and
hair
.
Then
he
put
on
his
hat
again
,
relieved
:
and
read
again
:
choice
blend
,
made
of
the
finest
Ceylon
brands
.
The
far
east
.
Lovely
spot
it
must
be
:
the
garden
of
the
world
,
big
lazy
leaves
to
float
about
on
,
cactuses
,
flowery
meads
,
snaky
lianas
they
call
them
.
Wonder
is
it
like
that
.
Those
Cinghalese
lobbing
about
in
the
sun
in
dolce
far
niente
,
not
doing
a
hand
’
s
turn
all
day
.
Sleep
six
months
out
of
twelve
.
Too
hot
to
quarrel
.
Influence
of
the
climate
.
Lethargy
.
Flowers
of
idleness
.
The
air
feeds
most
.
Azotes
.
Hothouse
in
Botanic
gardens
.
Sensitive
plants
.
Waterlilies
.
Petals
too
tired
to
.
Sleeping
sickness
in
the
air
.
Walk
on
roseleaves
.
Imagine
trying
to
eat
tripe
and
cowheel
.
Where
was
the
chap
I
saw
in
that
picture
somewhere
?
Ah
yes
,
in
the
dead
sea
floating
on
his
back
,
reading
a
book
with
a
parasol
open
.
Couldn
’
t
sink
if
you
tried
:
so
thick
with
salt
.
Because
the
weight
of
the
water
,
no
,
the
weight
of
the
body
in
the
water
is
equal
to
the
weight
of
the
what
?
Or
is
it
the
volume
is
equal
to
the
weight
?
It
’
s
a
law
something
like
that
.
Vance
in
High
school
cracking
his
fingerjoints
,
teaching
.
The
college
curriculum
.
Cracking
curriculum
.
What
is
weight
really
when
you
say
the
weight
?
Thirtytwo
feet
per
second
per
second
.
Law
of
falling
bodies
:
per
second
per
second
.
They
all
fall
to
the
ground
.
The
earth
.
It
’
s
the
force
of
gravity
of
the
earth
is
the
weight
.
He
turned
away
and
sauntered
across
the
road
.
How
did
she
walk
with
her
sausages
?
Like
that
something
.
As
he
walked
he
took
the
folded
Freeman
from
his
sidepocket
,
unfolded
it
,
rolled
it
lengthwise
in
a
baton
and
tapped
it
at
each
sauntering
step
against
his
trouserleg
.
Careless
air
:
just
drop
in
to
see
.
Per
second
per
second
.
Per
second
for
every
second
it
means
.
From
the
curbstone
he
darted
a
keen
glance
through
the
door
of
the
postoffice
.
Too
late
box
.
Post
here
.
No
-
one
.
In
.
He
handed
the
card
through
the
brass
grill
.
—
Are
there
any
letters
for
me
?
he
asked
.
While
the
postmistress
searched
a
pigeonhole
he
gazed
at
the
recruiting
poster
with
soldiers
of
all
arms
on
parade
:
and
held
the
tip
of
his
baton
against
his
nostrils
,
smelling
freshprinted
rag
paper
.
No
answer
probably
.
Went
too
far
last
time
.
The
postmistress
handed
him
back
through
the
grill
his
card
with
a
letter
.
He
thanked
her
and
glanced
rapidly
at
the
typed
envelope
.
Henry
Flower
Esq
,
c
/
o
P
.
O
.
Westland
Row
,
