尤利西斯-第23章

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Mr　Bloom；　seeing　the　coast　clear；　made　for　the　inner　door。　
　Just　a　moment；　Mr　Crawford；　he　said。　I　just　want　to　phone　about　an　ad。　
He　went　in。　
　What　about　that　leader　this　evening？　professor　MacHugh　asked；　ing　to　the　editor　and　laying　a　firm　hand　on　his　shoulder。　
　That'll　be　all　right；　Myles　Crawford　said　more　calmly。　Never　you　fret。　Hello；　Jack。　That's　all　right。　
　Good　day；　Myles。　J。J。　O'Molloy　said；　letting　the　pages　he　held　slip　limply　back　on　the　file。　Is　that　Canada　swindle　case　on　today？　
The　telephone　whirred　inside。　
　Twenty　eight。。。　No；　twenty。。。　Double　four　。　Yes。　
Spot　the　Winner
Lenehan　came　out　of　the　inner　office　with　Sports　tissues。　
　Who　wants　a　dead　cert　for　the　Gold　cup？　he　asked。　Sceptre　with　O。　Madden　up。　
He　tossed　the　tissues　on　to　the　table。　
Screams　of　newsboys　barefoot　in　the　hall　rushed　near　and　the　door　was　flung　open。　
　Hush；　Lenehan　said。　I　hear　feetstoops。　
Professor　MacHugh　strode　across　the　room　and　seized　the　cringing　urchin　by　the　collar　as　the　others　scampered　out　of　the　hall　and　down　the　steps。　The　tissues　rustled　up　in　the　draught；　floated　softly　in　the　air　blue　scrawls　and　under　the　table　came　to　earth。　
　It　wasn't　me；　sir。　It　was　the　big　fellow　shoved　me；　sir。　
　Throw　him　out　and　shut　the　door；　the　editor　said。　There's　a　hurricane　blowing。　
Lenehan　began　to　paw　the　tissues　up　from　the　floor；　grunting　as　he　stooped　twice。　
　Waiting　for　the　racing　special；　sir；　the　newsboy　said。　It　was　Pat　Farrel　shoved　me；　sir。　
He　pointed　to　two　faces　peering　in　round　the　door…frame。　
　Him；　sir。　
　Out　of　this　with　you；　professor　MacHugh　said　gruffly。　
He　hustled　the　boy　out　and　banged　the　door　to。　
J。J。　O'Molloy　turned　the　files　crackingly　over；　murmuring；　seeking：　
　Continued　on　page　six；　column　four。　
　Yes。。。　Evening　Telegraph　here；　Mr　Bloom　phoned　from　the　inner　office。　Is　the　boss。。。　？　Yes；　Telegraph。。。　To　where？。。。　Aha！　Which　auction　rooms？。。。　Aha！　I　see。。。　Right。　I'll　catch　him。　
A　Collision　ensues
The　bell　whirred　again　as　he　rang　off。　He　came　in　quickly　and　bumped　against　Lenehan　who　was　struggling　up　with　the　second　tissue。　
　Pardon；　monsieur；　Lenehan　said；　clutching　him　for　an　instant　and　making　a　grimace。　
　My　fault；　Mr　Bloom　said；　suffering　his　grip。　Are　you　hurt？　I'm　in　a　hurry。　
　Knee；　Lenehan　said。　
He　made　a　ic　face　and　whined；　rubbing　his　knee。　
　The　accumulation　of　the　anno　Domini。　
　Sorry；　Mr　Bloom　said。　
He　went　to　the　door　and；　holding　it　ajar；　paused。　J。J。　O'Molloy　slapped　the　heavy　pages　over。　The　noise　of　two　shrill　voices；　a　mouthorgan；　echoed　in　the　bare　hallway　from　the　newsboys　squatted　on　the　doorsteps：　
We　are　the　boys　of　Wexford
Who　fought　with　heart　and　hand。
Exit　Bloom
　I'm　just　running　round　to　Bachelor's　walk；　Mr　Bloom　said；　about　this　ad　of　Keyes's。　Want　to　fix　it　up。　They　tell　me　he's　round　there　in　Dillon's。　
He　looked　indecisively　for　a　moment　at　their　faces。　The　editor　who；　leaning　against　the　mantelshelf；　had　propped　his　head　on　his　hand　suddenly　stretched　forth　an　arm　amply。　
　Begone！　he　said。　The　world　is　before　you。　
　Back　in　no　time；　Mr　Bloom　said；　hurrying　out。　
J。J。　O'Molloy　took　the　tissues　from　Lenehan's　hand　and　read　them；　blowing　them　apart　gently；　without　ment。　
　He'll　get　that　advertisement；　the　professor　said；　staring　through　his　blackrimmed　spectacles　over　the　crossblind。　Look　at　the　young　scamps　after　him。　
　Show！　Where？　Lenehan　cried；　running　to　the　window。　
A　Street　Cortege
Both　smiled　over　the　crossblind　at　the　file　of　capering　newsboys　in　Mr　Bloom's　wake；　the　last　zigzagging　white　on　the　breeze　a　mocking　kite；　a　tail　of　white　bowknots。　
　Look　at　the　young　guttersnipe　behind　him　hue　and　cry；　Lenehan　said；　and　you'll　kick。　O；　my　rib　risible！　Taking　off　his　flat　spaugs　and　the　walk。　Small　nines。　Steal　upon　larks。　
He　began　to　mazurka　in　swift　caricature　across　the　floor　on　sliding　feet　past　the　fireplace　to　J。J。　O'Molloy　who　placed　the　tissues　in　his　receiving　hands。　
　What's　that？　Myles　Crawford　said　with　a　start。　Where　are　the　other　two　gone？　
　Who？　the　professor　said；　turning。　They're　gone　round　to　the　Oval　for　a　drink。　Paddy　Hooper　is　there　with　Jack　Hall。　Came　over　last　night。　
　e　on　then；　Myles　Crawford　said。　Where's　my　hat？　
He　walked　jerkily　into　the　office　behind；　parting　the　vent　of　his　jacket；　jingling　his　keys　in　his　back　pocket。　They　jingled　then　in　the　air　and　against　the　wood　as　he　locked　his　desk　drawer。　
　He's　pretty　well　on；　professor　MacHugh　said　in　a　low　voIce。　
　Seems　to　be；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said；　taking　out　a　cigarette　case　in　murmuring　meditation；　but　it　is　not　always　as　it　seems。　Who　has　the　most　matches？　
The　Calumet　of　Peace
He　offered　a　cigarette　to　the　professor　and　took　one　himself。　Lenehan　promptly　struck　a　match　for　them　and　lit　their　cigarettes　in　turn。　J。J。　O'Molloy　opened　his　case　again　and　offered　it。　
　Thanky　vous；　Lenehan　said；　helping　himself。　
The　editor　came　from　the　inner　office；　a　straw　hat　awry　on　his　brow。　He　declaimed　in　song；　pointing　sternly　at　professor　MacHugh：　
'Twas　rank　and　fame　that　tempted　thee；　
'Twas　empire　charmed　thy　heart。
The　professor　grinned；　locking　his　long　lips。　
　Eh？　You　bloody　old　Roman　empire？　Myles　Crawford　said。　
He　took　a　cigarette　from　the　open　case。　Lenehan；　lighting　it　for　him　with　quick　grace；　said：　
　Silence　for　my　brandnew　riddle！　
　Imperium　romanum；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said　gently。　It　sounds　nobler　than　British　or　Brixton。　The　word　reminds　one　somehow　of　fat　in　the　fire。　
Myles　Crawford　blew　his　first　puff　violently　towards　the　ceiling。　
　That's　it；　he　said。　We　are　the　fat。　You　and　I　are　the　fat　in　the　fire。　We　haven't　got　the　chance　of　a　snowball　in　hell。　
The　Grandeur　that　was　Rome
　Wait　a　moment；　professor　MacHugh　said；　raising　two　quiet　claws。　We　mustn't　be　led　away　by　words；　by　sounds　of　words。　We　think　of　Rome；　imperial；　imperious；　imperative。　
He　extended　elocutionary　arms　from　frayed　stained　shirtcuffs；　pausing：　
　What　was　their　civilisation？　Vast；　I　allow：　but　vile。　Cloac&Aelig；：　sewers。　The　Jews　in　the　wilderness　and　on　the　mountaintop　said：　It　is　meet　to　be　here。　Let　us　build　an　altar　to　Jehovah。　The　Roman；　like　the　Englishman　who　follows　in　his　footsteps；　brought　to　every　new　shore　on　which　he　set　his　foot　（on　our　shore　he　never　set　it）　only　his　cloacal　obsession。　He　gazed　about　him　in　his　toga　and　he　said：　It　is　meet　to　be　here。　Let　us　construct　a　watercloset。　
　Which　they　accordingly　did　do；　Lenehan　said。　Our　old　ancient　ancestors；　as　we　read　in　the　first　chapter　of　Guinness's；　were　partial　to　the　running　stream。　
　They　were　nature's　gentlemen；　J。J。　O'Molloy　murmured。　But　we　have　also　Roman　law。　
　And　Pontius　Pilate　is　its　prophet；　professor　MacHugh　responded。　
　Do　you　know　that　story　about　chief　Baron　Palles？　J。J。　O'Molloy　asked。　It　was　at　the　royal　university　dinner。　Everything　was　going　swimmingly。　
　First　my　riddle；　Lenehan　said。　Are　you　ready？　
Mr　O'Madden　Burke；　tall　in　copious　grey　of　Donegal　tweed；　came　in　from　the　hallway。　Stephen　Dedalus；　behind　him；　uncovered　as　he　entered。　
　Entrez；　mes　enfants！　Lenehan　cried。　
　I　escort　a　suppliant；　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　said　melodiously。　Youth　led　by　Experience　visits　Notoriety。　
　How　do　you　do？　the　editor　said；　holding　out　a　hand。　e　in。　Your　governor　is　just　gone。　
？　？　？
Lenehan　said　to　all：　
　Silence！　What　opera　resembles　a　railway　line？　Reflect；　ponder；　excogitate；　reply。　
Stephen　handed　over　the　typed　sheets；　pointing　to　the　title　and　signature。　
　Who？　the　editor　asked。　
Bit　torn　off。　
　Mr　Garrett　Deasy；　Stephen　said：　
　That　old　pelters；　the　editor　said。　Who　tore　it？　Was　he　short　taken。　
On　swift　sail　flaming
From　storm　and　south
He　es；　pale　vampire；
Mouth　to　my　mouth。
　Good　day；　Stephen；　the　professor　said；　ing　to　peer　over　their　shoulders。　Foot　and　mouth？　Are　you　turned。。。　？　
Bullockbefriending　bard。　
Shindy　in　wellknown　Restaurant
　Good　day；　sir；　Stephen　answered；　blushing。　The　letter　is　not　mine。　Mr　Garrett　Deasy　asked　me　to。。。　
　O；　I　know　him；　Myles　Crawford　said；　and　knew　his　wife　too。　The　bloodiest　old　tartar　God　ever　made。　By　Jesus；　she　had　the　foot　and　mouth　disease　and　no　mistake！　The　night　she　threw　the　soup　in　the　waiter's　face　in　the　Star　and　Garter。　Oho！　
A　woman　brought　sin　into　the　world。　For　Helen；　the　runaway　wife　of　Menelaus；　ten　years　the　Greeks。　O'Rourke；　prince　of　Breffni。　
　Is　he　a　widower？　Stephen　asked。　
　Ay；　a　grass　one；　Myles　Crawford　said；　his　eye　running　down　the　typescript。　Emperor's　horses。　Habsburg。　An　Irishman　saved　his　life　on　the　ramparts　of　Vienna。　Don't　you　forget！　Maximilian　Karl　O'Donnell；　graf　von　Tirconnel　in　Ireland。　Sent　his　heir　over　to　make　the　king　an　Austrian　fieldmarshal　now。　Going　to　be　trouble　there　one　day。　Wild　geese。　O　yes；　every　time。　Don't　you　forget　that！　
　The　moot　point　is　did　he　forget　it？　J。J。　O'Molloy　said　quietly；　turning　a　horseshoe　paperweight。　Saving　princes　is　a　thank　you　job。　
Professor　MacHugh　turned　on　him。　
　And　if　not？　he　said。　
　I'll　tell　you　how　it　was；　Myles　Crawford　began。　Hungarian　it　was　one　day。。。　
Lost　Causes　Noble　Marquess　mentioned
We　were　always　loyal　to　lost　causes；　the　professor　said。　Success　for　us　is　the　death　of　the　intellect　and　of　the　imagination。　We　were　never　loyal　to　the　successful。　We　serve　them。　I　teach　the　blatant　Latin　language。　I　speak　the　tongue　of　a　race　the　acme　of　whose　mentality　is　the　maxim：　time　is　money。　Material　domination。　Dominus！　Lord！　Where　is　the　spirituality？　Lord　Jesus！　Lord　Salisbury。　A　sofa　in　a　westend　club。　But　the　Greek！　
Kyrie　Eleison！
A　smile　of　light　brightened　his　darkrimmed　eyes；　lengthened　his　long　lips。　
　The　Greek！　he　said　again。　Kyrios！　Shining　word！　The　vowels　the　Semite　and　the　Saxon　know　not。　Kyrie！　The　radiance　of　the　intellect。　I　ought　to　profess　Greek；　the　language　of　the　mind。　Kyrie　eleison！　The　closetmaker　and　the　cloacamaker　will　never　be　lords　of　our　spirit。　We　are　liege　subjects　of　the　catholic　chivalry　of　Europe　that　foundered　at　Trafalgar　and　of　the　empire　of　the　spirit；　not　an　imperium；　that　went　under　with　the　Athenian　fleets　at　&Aelig；gospotami。　Yes；　yes。　They　went　under。　Pyrrhus；　misled　by　an　oracle；　made　a　last　attempt　to　retrieve　the　fortunes　of　Greece。　Loyal　to　a　lost　cause。　
He　strode　away　from　them　towards　the　window。　
　They　went　forth　to　battle；　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　said　greyly；　but　they　always　fell。　
　Boohoo！　Lenehan　wept　with　a　little　noise。　Owing　to　a　brick　received　in　the　latter　half　of　the　matinée。　Poor；　poor；　poor　Pyrrhus！　
He　whispered　then　near　Stephen's　ear：　
Lenehan's　Limerick
There's　a　ponderous　pundit　MacHugh　
Who　wears　goggles　of　ebony　hue。
As　he　mostly　sees　double　
To　wear　them　why　trouble？　
I　can't　see　the　Joe　Miller。　Can　you？
In　mourning　for　Sallust；　Mulligan　says。　Whose　mother　is　beastly　dead。　
Myles　Crawford　crammed　the　sheets　into　a　sidepocket。　
　That'll　be　all　right；　he　said。　I'll　read　the　rest　after。　That'll　be　all　right。　
Lenehan　extended　his　hands　in　protest。　
　But　my　riddle！　he　said。　What　opera　is　like　a　railway　line？　
　Opera？　Mr　O'Madden　Burke's　sphinx　face　reriddled。　
Lenehan　announced　gladly：　
　The　Rose　of　Castille。　See　the　wheeze？　Rows　of　cast　steel。　Gee！　
He　poked　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　mildly　in　the　spleen。　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　fell　back　with　grace　on　his　umbrella；　feigning　a　gasp。　
　Help！　he　sighed。　I　feel　a　strong　weakness。　
Lenehan；　risin