尤利西斯-第22章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　We　can　do　that；　he　said。　Let　him　give　us　a　three　months'　renewal。　
A　typesetter　brought　him　a　limp　galleypage。　He　began　to　check　it　silently。　Mr　Bloom　stood　by；　hearing　the　loud　throbs　of　cranks；　watching　the　silent　typesetters　at　their　cases。　
Orthographical
Want　to　be　sure　of　his　spelling。　Proof　fever。　Martin　Cunningham　forgot　to　give　us　his　spellingbee　conundrum　this　morning。　It　is　amusing　to　view　the　unpar　one　ar　alleled　embarra　two　ars　is　it？　double　ess　ment　of　a　harassed　pedlar　while　gauging　au　the　symmetry　of　a　peeled　pear　under　a　cemetery　wall。　Silly；　isn't　it？　Cemetery　put　in　of　course　on　account　of　the　symmetry。　
I　could　have　said　when　he　clapped　on　his　topper。　Thank　you。　I　ought　to　have　said　something　about　an　old　hat　or　something。　No；　I　could　have　said。　Looks　as　good　as　new　now。　See　his　phizthen。　
Sllt。　The　nethermost　deck　of　the　first　machine　jogged　forwards　its　flyboard　with　slit　the　first　batch　of　quirefolded　papers。　Sllt。　Almost　human　the　way　it　sllt　to　call　attention。　Doing　its　level　best　to　speak。　That　door　too　slit　creaking；　asking　to　be　shut。　Everything　speaks　in　its　own　way。　Sllt。　
Noted　Churchman　an　Occasional　Contributor
The　foreman　handed　back　the　galleypage　suddenly；　saying：　
　Wait。　Where's　the　archbishop's　letter？　It's　to　be　repeated　in　the　Telegraph。　Where's　what's　his　name？　
He　looked　about　him　round　his　loud　unanswering　machines。　
　Monks；　sir？　a　voice　asked　from　the　castingbox。　
　Ay。　Where's　Monks？　
　Monks！　
Mr　Bloom　took　up　his　cutting。　Time　to　get　out。　
　Then　I'll　get　the　design；　Mr　Nannetti；　he　said；　and　you'll　give　it　a　good　place　I　know。　
　Monks！　
　Yes；　sir。　
Three　months'　renewal。　Want　to　get　some　wind　off　my　chest　first。　Try　it　anyhow。　Rub　in　August：　good　idea：　horseshow　month。　Ballsbridge。　Tourists　over　for　the　show。　
A　Dayfather
He　walked　on　through　the　caseroom；　passing　an　old　man；　bowed；　spectacled；　aproned。　Old　Monks；　the　dayfather。　Queer　lot　of　stuff　he　must　have　put　through　his　hands　in　his　time：　obituary　notices；　pubs'　ads；　speeches；　divorce　suits；　found　drowned。　Nearing　the　end　of　his　tether　now。　Sober　serious　man　with　a　bit　in　the　savings…bank　I'd　say。　Wife　a　good　cook　and　washer。　Daughter　working　the　machine　in　the　parlour。　Plain　Jane；　no　damn　nonsense。　
And　it　was　the　Feast　of　the　Passover
He　stayed　in　his　walk　to　watch　a　typesetter　neatly　distributing　type。　Reads　it　backwards　first。　Quickly　he　does　it。　Must　require　some　practice　that。　mangiD。　kcirtaP。　Poor　papa　with　his　hagadah　book；　reading　backwards　with　his　finger　to　me。　Pessach。　Next　year　in　Jerusalem。　Dear；　O　dear！　All　that　long　business　about　that　brought　us　out　of　the　land　of　Egypt　and　into　the　house　of　bondage　alleluia。　Shema　Israel　Adonai　Elohenu。　No；　that's　the　other。　Then　the　twelve　brothers；　Jacob's　sons。　And　then　the　lamb　and　the　cat　and　the　dog　and　the　stick　and　the　water　and　the　butcher　and　then　the　angel　of　death　kills　the　butcher　and　he　kills　the　ox　and　the　dog　kills　the　cat。　Sounds　a　bit　silly　till　you　e　to　look　into　it　well。　Justice　it　means　but　it's　everybody　eating　everyone　else。　That's　what　life　is　after　all。　How　quickly　he　does　that　job。　Practice　makes　perfect。　Seems　to　see　with　his　fingers。　
Mr　Bloom　passed　on　out　of　the　clanking　noises　through　the　gallery　on　to　the　landing。　Now　am　I　going　to　tram　it　out　all　the　way　and　then　catch　him　out　perhaps？　Better　phone　him　up　first。　Number？　Same　as　Citron's　house。　Twentyeight。　Twentyeight　double　four。　
Only　once　more　that　soap
He　went　down　the　house　staircase。　Who　the　deuce　scrawled　all　over　these　walls　with　matches？　Looks　as　if　they　did　it　for　a　bet。　Heavy　greasy　smell　there　always　is　in　those　works。　Lukewarm　glue　in　Thom's　next　door　when　I　was　there。　
He　took　out　his　handkerchief　to　dab　his　nose。　Citronlemon？　Ah；　the　soap　I　put　there。　Lose　it　out　of　that　pocket。　Putting　back　his　handkerchief　he　took　out　the　soap　and　stowed　it　away；　buttoned　into　the　hip　pocket　of　his　trousers。　
What　perfume　does　your　wife　use？　I　could　go　home　still：　tram：　something　I　forgot。　Just　to　see　before　dressing。　No。　Here。　No。　
A　sudden　screech　of　laughter　came　from　the　Evening　Telegraph　office。　Know　who　that　is。　What's　up？　Pop　in　a　minute　to　phone。　Ned　Lambert　it　is。　
He　entered　softly。　
Erin；　Green　Gem　of　the　Silver　Sea
　The　ghost　walks；　professor　Macllugh　murmured　softly；　biscuitfully　to　the　dusty　windowpane。　
Mr　Dedalus；　staring　from　the　empty　fireplace　at　Ned　Lambert's　quizzing　face；　asked　of　it　sourly：　
　Agonising　Christ；　wouldn't　it　give　you　a　heartburn　on　your　arse？　
Ned　Lambert；　seated　on　the　table；　read　on：　
　Or　again；　note　the　meanderings　of　some　purling　rill　as　it　babbles　on　its　way；　fanned　by　gentlest　zephyrs　tho'　quarrelling　with　the　stony　obstacles；　to　the　tumbling　waters　of　Neptune's　blue　domain；　mid　mossy　banks；　played　on　by　the　glorious　sunlight　or　'neath　the　shadows　cast　o'er　its　pensive　bosom　by　the　overarching　leafage　of　the　giants　of　the　forest。　What　about　that；　Simon？　he　asked　over　the　fringe　of　his　newspaper。　How's　that　for　high？　
　Changing　his　drink；　Mr　Dedalus　said。　
Ned　Lambert；　laughing；　struck　the　newspaper　on　his　knees；　repeating：　
　The　pensive　bosom　and　the　overarsing　leafage。　O　boys！　O　boys！　
　And　Xenophon　looked　upon　Marathon；　Mr　Dedalus　said；　looking　again　on　the　fireplace　and　to　the　window；　and　Marathon　looked　on　the　sea。　
　That　will　do；　professor　MacHugh　cried　from　the　window。　I　don't　want　to　hear　any　more　of　the　stuff。　
He　ate　off　the　crescent　of　water　biscuit　he　had　been　nibbling　and；　hungered；　made　ready　to　nibble　the　biscuit　in　his　other　hand。　
High　falutin　stuff。　Bladderbags。　Ned　Lambert　is　taking　a　day　off　I　see。　Rather　upsets　a　man's　day　a　funeral　does。　He　has　influence　they　say。　Old　Chatterton；　the　vice…chancellor；　is　his　granduncle　or　his　greatgranduncle。　Close　on　ninety　they　say。　Subleader　for　his　death　written　this　long　time　perhaps。　Living　to　spite　them。　Might　go　first　himself。　Johnny；　make　room　for　your　uncle。　The　right　honourable　Hedges　Eyre　Chatterton。　Daresay　he　writes　him　an　odd　shaky　cheque　or　two　on　gale　days。　Windfall　when　he　kicks　out。　Alleluia。　
　Just　another　spasm；　Ned　Lambert　said。　
　What　is　it？　Mr　Bloom　asked。　
　A　recently　discovered　fragment　of　Cicero's；　professor　MacHugh　answered　with　pomp　of　tone。　Our　lovely　land。　
Short　but　to　the　Point
　Whose　land？　Mr　Bloom　said　simply。　
　Most　pertinent　question；　the　professor　said　between　his　chews。　With　an　accent　on　the　whose。　
　Dan　Dawson's　land；　Mr　Dedalus　said。　
　Is　it　his　speech　last　night？　Mr　Bloom　asked。　
Ned　Lambert　nodded。　
　But　listen　to　this；　he　said。　
The　doorknob　hit　Mr　Bloom　in　the　small　of　the　back　as　the　door　was　pushed　in。　
　Excuse　me；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said；　entering。　
Mr　Bloom　moved　nimbly　aside。　
　I　beg　yours；　he　said。　
　Good　day；　Jack。　
　e　in。　e　in。　
　Good　day。　
　How　are　you；　Dedalus？　
　Well。　And　yourself？　
J。J。　O'Molloy　shook　his　head。　
Sad
Cleverest　fellow　at　the　junior　bar　he　used　to　be。　Decline　poor　chap。　That　hectic　flush　spells　finis　for　a　man。　Touch　and　go　with　him。　What's　in　the　wind；　I　wonder。　Money　worry。　
　Or　again　if　we　but　climb　the　serried　mountain　peaks。　
　You're　looking　extra。　
　Is　the　editor　to　be　seen？　J。J。　O'Molloy　asked；　looking　towards　the　inner　door。　
　Very　much　so；　professor　MacHugh　said。　To　be　seen　and　heard。　He's　in　his　sanctum　with　Lenehan。　
J。J。　O'Molloy　strolled　Jo　the　sloping　desk　and　began　to　turn　back　the　pink　pages　of　the　file。　
Practice　dwindling。　A　mighthavebeen。　Losing　heart。　Gambling。　Debts　of　honour。　Reaping　the　whirlwind。　Used　to　get　good　retainers　from　D。　and　T。　Fitzgerald。　Their　wigs　to　show　their　grey　matter。　Brains　on　their　sleeve　like　the　statue　in　Glasnevin。　Believe　he　does　some　literary　work　for　the　Express　with　Gabriel　Conroy。　Wellread　fellow。　Myles　Crawford　began　on　the　Independent。　Funny　the　way　those　newspaper　men　veer　about　when　they　get　wind　of　a　new　opening。　Weathercocks。　Hot　and　cold　in　the　same　breath。　Wouldn't　know　which　to　believe。　One　story　good　till　you　hear　the　next。　Go　for　one　another　baldheaded　in　the　papers　and　then　all　blows　over。　Hailfellow　well　met　the　next　moment。　
　Ah；　listen　to　this　for　God's　sake；　Ned　Lambert　pleaded。　Or　again　if　we　but　climb　the　serried　mountain　peaks。。。　
　Bombast！　the　professor　broke　in　testily。　Enough　of　the　inflated　windbag！　
　Peaks；　Ned　Lambert　went　on；　towering　high　on　high；　to　bathe　our　souls；　as　it　were。。。　
　Bathe　his　lips；　Mr　Dedalus　said。　Blessed　and　eternal　God！　Yes？　Is　he　taking　anything　for　it？　
　As　'twere；　in　the　peerless　panorama　of　Ireland's　portfolio；　unmatched；　despite　their　wellpraised　prototypes　in　other　vaunted　prize　regions；　for　very　beauty；　of　bosky　grove　and　undulating　plain　and　luscious　pastureland　of　vernal　green；　steeped　in　the　transcendent　translucent　glow　of　our　mild　mysterious　Irish　twilight。。。　
His　Native　Doric
　The　moon；　professor　MacHugh　said。　He　forgot　Hamlet。　
　That　mantles　the　vista　far　and　wide　and　wait　till　the　glowing　orb　of　the　moon　shines　forth　to　irradiate　her　silver　effulgence。　
　O！　Mr　Dedalus　cried；　giving　vent　to　a　hopeless　groan；　shite　and　onions！　That'll　do；　Ned。　Life　is　too　short。　
He　took　off　his　silk　hat　and；　blowing　out　impatiently　his　bushy　moustache；　welshbed　his　hair　with　raking　fingers。　
Ned　Lambert　tossed　the　newspaper　aside；　chuckling　with　delight。　An　instant　after　a　hoarse　bark　of　laughter　burst　over　professor　MacHugh's　unshaven　black…spectacled　face。　
　Doughy　Daw！　he　cried。　
What　Wetherup　said
All　very　fine　to　jeer　at　it　now　in　cold　print　but　it　goes　down　like　hot　cake　that　stuff。　He　was　in　the　bakery　line　too　wasn't　he？　Why　they　call　him　Doughy　Daw。　Feathered　his　nest　well　anyhow。　Daughter　engaged　to　that　chap　in　the　inland　revenue　office　with　the　motor。　Hooked　that　nicely。　Entertainments　open　house。　Big　blow　out。　Wetherup　always　said　that。　Get　a　grip　of　them　by　the　stomach。　
The　inner　door　was　opened　violently　and　a　scarlet　beaked　face；　crested　by　a　b　of　feathery　hair；　thrust　itself　in。　The　bold　blue　eyes　stared　about　them　and　the　harsh　voice　asked：　
　What　is　it？　
　And　here　es　the　sham　squire　himself；　professor　MacHugh　said　grandly。　
　Getououthat；　you　bloody　old　pedagogue！　the　editor　said　in　recognition。　
　e；　Ned；　Mr　Dedalus　said；　putting　on　his　hat。　I　must　get　a　drink　after　that。　
　Drink！　the　editor　cried。　No　drinks　served　before　mass。　
　Quite　right　too；　Mr　Dedalus　said；　going　out。　e　on；　Ned。　
Ned　Lambert　sidled　down　from　the　table。　The　editor's　blue　eyes　roved　towards　Mr　Bloom's　face；　shadowed　by　a　smile。　
　Will　you　join　us；　Myles？　Ned　Lambert　asked。　
Memorable　Battles　Recalled
　North　Cork　militia！　the　editor　cried；　striding　to　the　mantelpiece。　We　won　every　time！　North　Cork　and　Spanish　officers！　
　Where　was　that；　Myles？　Ned　Lambert　asked　with　a　reflective　glance　at　his　toecaps。　
　In　Ohio！　the　editor　shouted。　
　So　it　was；　begad；　Ned　Lambert　agreed。　
Passing　out；　he　whispered　to　J。J。　O'Molloy：　
　Incipient　jigs。　Sad　case。　
　Ohio！　the　editor　crowed　in　high　treble　from　his　uplifted　scarlet　face。　My　Ohio！　
　A　Perfect　cretic！　the　professor　said。　Long；　short　and　long。　
O；　Harp　Eolian
He　took　a　reel　of　dental　floss　from　his　waistcoat　pocket　and；　breaking　off　a　piece；　twanged　it　smartly　between　two　and　two　of　his　resonant　unwashed　teeth。　
　Bingbang；　bangbang。　
Mr　Bloom；　seeing　the　coast　clear；　made　for　the　inner　door。　
　Just　a　moment；　Mr　Crawford；　he