尤利西斯-第24章

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　Help！　he　sighed。　I　feel　a　strong　weakness。　
Lenehan；　rising　to　tiptoe；　fanned　his　face　rapidly　with　the　rustling　tissues。　
The　professor；　returning　by　way　of　the　files；　swept　his　hand　across　Stephen's　and　Mr　O'Madden　Burke's　loose　ties。　
　Paris；　past　and　present；　he　said。　You　look　like　munards。　
　Like　fellows　who　had　blown　up　the　bastille；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said　in　quiet　mockery。　Or　was　it　you　shot　the　lord　lieutenant　of　Finland　between　you？　You　look　as　though　you　had　done　the　deed。　General　Bobrikoff。　
Omnium　Gatherum
　We　were　only　thinking　about　it；　Stephen　said。　
　All　the　talents；　Myles　Crawford　said。　Law；　the　classics。　
　The　turf；　Lenehan　put　in。　
　Literature；　the　press。　
　If　Bloom　were　here；　the　professor　said。　The　gentle　art　of　advertisement。　
　And　Madam　Bloom；　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　added。　The　vocal　muse。　Dublin's　prime　favourite。　
Lenehan　gave　a　loud　cough。　
　Ahem！　he　said　very　softly。　O；　for　a　fresh　of　breath　air！　I　caught　a　cold　in　the　park。　The　gate　was　open。　
You　can　do　it！
The　editor　laid　a　nervous　hand　on　Stephen's　shoulder。　
　I　want　you　to　write　something　for　me；　he　said。　Something　with　a　bite　in　it。　You　can　do　it。　I　see　it　in　your　face。　In　the　lexicon　of　youth。。。　
See　it　in　your　face。　See　it　in　your　eye。　Lazy　idle　little　schemer。　
　Foot　and　mouth　disease！　the　editor　cried　in　scornful　invective。　Great　nationalist　meeting　in　Borris…in…Ossory。　All　balls！　Bulldosing　the　public！　Give　them　something　with　a　bite　in　it。　Put　us　all　into　it；　damn　its　soul。　Father　Son　and　Holy　Ghost　and　fakes　M'Carthy。　
　We　can　all　supply　mental　pabulum；　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　said。　
Stephen　raised　his　eyes　to　the　bold　unheeding　stare。　
　He　wants　you　for　the　pressgang；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said。　
The　Great　Gallaher
　You　can　do　it；　Myles　Crawford　repeated；　clenching　his　hand　in　emphasis。　Wait　a　minute。　We'll　paralyse　Europe　as　Ignatius　Gallaher　used　to　say　when　he　was　on　the　shaughraun；　doing　billiardmarking　in　the　Clarence。　Gallaher；　that　was　a　pressman　for　you。　That　was　a　pen。　You　know　how　he　made　his　mark？　I'll　tell　you。　That　was　the　smartest　piece　of　journalism　ever　known。　That　was　in　eightyone；　sixth　of　May；　time　of　the　invincibles；　murder　in　the　Phoenix　park；　before　you　were　born；　I　suppose。　I'll　show　you。　
He　pushed　past　them　to　the　files。　
　Look　at　here；　he　said；　turning。　The　New　York　World　cabled　for　a　special。　Remember　that　time？　
Professor　MacHugh　nodded。　
　New　York　World；　the　editor　said；　excitedly　pushing　back　his　straw　hat。　Where　it　took　place。　Tim　Kelly；　or　Kavanagh　I　mean；　Joe　Brady　and　the　rest　of　them。　Where　Skin…the…goat　drove　the　car。　Whole　route；　see？　
　Skin…the…goat；　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　said。　Fitzharris。　He　has　that　cabman's　shelter；　they　say；　down　there　at　Butt　bridge。　Holohan　told　me。　You　know　Holohan？　
　Hop　and　carry　one；　is　it？　Myles　Crawford　said。　
　And　poor　Gumley　is　down　there　too；　so　he　told　me；　minding　stones　for　the　corporation。　A　night　watchman。　
Stephen　turned　in　surprise。　
　Gumley？　he　said。　You　don't　say　so？　A　friend　of　my　father's；　is　he？　
　Never　mind　Gumley；　Myles　Crawford　cried　angrily。　Let　Gumley　mind　the　stones；　see　they　don't　run　away。　Look　at　here。　What　did　Ignatius　Gallaher　do？　I'll　tell　you。　Inspiration　of　genius。　Cabled　right　away。　Have　you　Weekly　Freeman　of　17　March？　Right。　Have　you　got　that？　
He　flung　back　pages　of　the　files　and　stuck　his　finger　on　a　point。　
　Take　page　four；　advertisement　for　Bransome's　coffee　let　us　say。　Have　you　got　that？　Right。　
The　telephone　whirred。　
A　distant　voice
　I'll　answer　it；　the　professor　said　going。　
　B　is　parkgate。　Good。　
His　finger　leaped　and　struck　point　after　point；　vibrating。　
　T　is　viceregal　lodge。　C　is　where　murder　took　place。　K　is　Knockmaroon　gate。　
The　loose　flesh　of　his　neck　shook　like　a　cock's　wattles。　An　illstarched　dicky　jutted　up　and　with　a　rude　gesture　he　thrust　it　back　into　his　waistcoat。　
　Hello？　Evening　Telegraph　here。。。　Hello？。。。　Who's　there？。。。　Yes。。。　Yes。。。　
　F　to　P　is　the　route　Skin…the…goat　drove　the　car　for　an　alibi。　Inchicore；　Roundtown；　Windy　Arbour；　Palmerston　Park；　Ranelagh。　F。　A。　B。　P。　Got　that？　X　is　Davy's　publichouse　in　upper　Leeson　street。　
The　professor　came　to　the　inner　door。　
　Bloom　is　at　the　telephone；　he　said。　
　Tell　him　go　to　hell；　the　editor　said　promptly。　X　is　Burke's　publichouse；　see？　
Clever；　Very
Clever；　Lenehan　said。　Very。　
　Gave　it　to　them　on　a　hot　plate；　Myles　Crawford　said；　the　whole　bloody　history。　
Nightmare　from　which　you　will　never　awake。　
　I　saw　it；　the　editor　said　proudly。　I　was　present；　Dick　Adams；　the　besthearted　bloody　Corkman　the　Lord　ever　put　the　breath　of　life　in；　and　myself。　
Lenehan　bowed　to　a　shape　of　air；　announcing：　
　Madam；　I'm　Adam。　And　Able　was　I　ere　I　saw　Elba。　
　History！　Myles　Crawford　cried。　The　Old　Woman　of　Prince's　street　was　there　first。　There　was　weeping　and　gnashing　of　teeth　over　that。　Out　of　an　advertisement。　Gregor　Grey　made　the　design　for　it。　That　gave　him　the　leg　up。　Then　Paddy　Hooper　worked　Tay　Pay　who　took　him　on　to　the　Star。　Now　he's　got　in　with　Blumenfeld。　That's　press。　That's　talent。　Pyatt！　He　was　all　their　daddies。　
　The　father　of　scare　journalism；　Lenehan　confirmed；　and　the　brother…in…law　of　Chris　Callinan。　
　Hello？。。。　Are　you　there？。。。　Yes；　he's　here　still。　e　across　yourself。　
　Where　do　you　find　a　pressman　like　that　now；　eh？　the　editor　cried。　He　flung　the　pages　down。　
　Clamn　dever；　Lenehan　said　to　Mr　O'Madden　Burke。　
　Very　smart；　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　said。　
Professor　MacHugh　came　from　the　inner　office。　
　Talking　about　the　invincibles；　he　said；　did　you　see　that　some　hawkers　were　up　before　the　recorder。。。　
　O　yes；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said　eagerly。　Lady　Dudley　was　walking　home　through　the　park　to　see　all　the　trees　that　were　blown　down　by　that　cyclone　last　year　and　thought　she'd　buy　a　view　of　Dublin。　And　it　turned　out　to　be　a　memoration　postcard　of　Joe　Brady　or　Number　One　or　Skin…the…goat。　Right　outside　the　viceregal　lodge；　imagine！　
　They're　only　in　the　hook　and　eye　department；　Myles　Crawford　said。　Psha！　Press　and　the　bar！　Where　have　you　a　man　now　at　the　bar　like　those　fellows；　like　Whiteside；　like　Isaac　Butt；　like　silvertongued　O'Hagan？　Eh？　Ah；　bloody　nonsense！　Only　in　the　halfpenny　place！　
His　mouth　continued　to　twitch　unspeaking　in　nervous　curls　of　disdain。　
Would　anyone　wish　that　mouth　for　her　kiss？　How　do　you　know？　Why　did　you　write　it　then？　
Rhymes　and　Reasons
Mouth；　south。　Is　the　mouth　south　someway？　Or　the　south　a　mouth？　Must　be　some。　South；　pout；　out；　shout；　drouth。　Rhymes：　two　men　dressed　the　same；　looking　the　same；　two　by　two。　
。。。　la　tua　pace
。。。　che　parlar　ti　piace
。。。　mentrechè　il　vento；　e　fa；　si　tace。
He　saw　them　three　by　three；　approaching　girls；　in　green；　in　rose；　in　russet；　entwining；　per　l'aer　perso　in　mauve；　in　purple；　quella　pacifica　oriafiamma；　in　gold　of　oriflamme；　di　rimirar　fe　piu　ardenti。　But　I　old　men；　penitent；　leadenfooted；　underdarkneath　the　night：　mouth　south：　tomb　womb。　
　Speak　up　for　yourself；　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　said。　
Sufficient　for　the　Day。。。　
J。J。　O'Molloy；　smiling　palely；　took　up　the　gage。　
　My　dear　Myles；　he　said；　flinging　his　cigarette　aside；　you　put　a　false　construction　on　my　words。　I　hold　no　brief；　as　at　present　advised；　for　the　third　profession　qua　profession　but　your　Cork　legs　are　running　away　with　you。　Why　not　bring　in　Henry　Grattan　and　Flood　and　Demosthenes　and　Edmund　Burke？　Ignatius　Gallaher　we　all　know　and　his　Chapelizod　boss；　Harmsworth　of　the　farthing　press；　and　his　American　cousin　of　the　Bowery　gutter　sheet　not　to　mention　Paddy　Kelly's　Budget；　Pue's　Occurrences　and　our　watchful　friend　The　Skibereen　Eagle。　Why　bring　in　a　master　of　forensic　eloquence　like　Whiteside？　Sufficient　for　the　day　is　the　newspaper　thereof。　
Links　with　Bygone　Days　of　Yore
Grattan　and　Flood　wrote　for　this　very　paper；　the　editor　cried　in　his　face。　Irish　volunteers。　Where　are　you　now？　Established　1763。　Dr　Lucas。　Who　have　you　now　like　John　Philpot　Curran？　Psha！　
　Well；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said；　Bushe　K。　C。；　for　example。　
　Bushe？　the　editor　said。　Well；　yes。　Bushe；　yes。　He　has　a　strain　of　it　in　his　blood。　Kendal　Bushe　or　I　mean　Seymour　Bushe。　
　He　would　have　been　on　the　bench　long　ago；　the　professor　said；　only　for。。。　But　no　matter。　
J。J。　O'Molloy　turned　to　Stephen　and　said　quietly　and　slowly：　
　One　of　the　most　polished　periods　I　think　I　ever　listened　to　in　my　life　fell　from　the　lips　of　Seymour　Bushe。　It　was　in　that　case　of　fratricide；　the　Childs　murder　case。　Bushe　defended　him。　
And　in　the　porches　of　mine　ear　did　pour。
By　the　way　how　did　he　find　that　out？　He　died　in　his　sleep。　Or　the　other　story；　beast　with　two　backs？　
　What　was　that？　the　professor　asked。　
Italia；　Magistra　Artium
　He　spoke　on　the　law　of　evidence；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said；　of　Roman　justice　as　contrasted　with　the　earlier　Mosaic　code；　the　lex　talionis。　And　he　cited　the　Moses　of　Michelangelo　in　the　Vatican。　
　Ha。　
　A　few　wellchosen　words；　Lenehan　prefaced。　Silence！　
Pause。　J。J。　O'Molloy　took　out　his　cigarette　case。　False　lull。　Something　quite　ordinary。　
Messenger　took　out　his　matchbox　thoughtfully　and　lit　his　cigar。　
I　have　often　thought　since　on　looking　back　over　that　strange　time　that　it　was　that　small　act；　trivial　in　itself；　that　striking　of　that　match；　that　determined　the　whole　aftercourse　of　both　our　lives。　
A　Polished　Period
J。J。　O'Molloy　resumed；　moulding　his　words：　
　He　said　of　it：　that　stony　effigy　in　frozen　music；　horned　and　terrible；　of　the　human　form　divine；　that　eternal　symbol　of　wisdom　and　prophecy　which　if　aught　that　the　imagination　or　the　hand　of　sculptor　has　wrought　in　marble　of　soultransfigured　and　of　soultransfiguring　deserves　to　live；　deserves　to　live。　
His　slim　hand　with　a　wave　graced　echo　and　fall。　
　Fine！　Myles　Crawford　said　at　once。　
　The　divine　afflatus；　Mr　O'Madden　Burke　said。　
　You　like　it？　J。J。　O'Molloy　asked　Stephen。　
Stephen；　his　blood　wooed　by　grace　of　language　and　gesture；　blushed。　He　took　a　cigarette　from　the　case。　J。J。　O'Molloy　offered　his　case　to　Myles　Crawford。　Lenehan　lit　their　cigarettes　as　before　and　took　his　trophy；　saying：　
　Muchibus　thankibus。　
A　Man　of　High　Morale
　Professor　Magennis　was　speaking　to　me　about　you；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said　to　Stephen。　What　do　you　think　really　of　that　hermetic　crowd；　the　opal　hush　poets：　A。　E。　the　master　mystic？　That　Blavatsky　woman　started　it。　She　was　a　nice　old　bag　of　tricks。　A。　E。　has　been　telling　some　yankee　interviewer　that　you　came　to　him　in　the　small　hours　of　the　morning　to　ask　him　about　planes　of　consciousness。　Magennis　thinks　you　must　have　been　pulling　A。　E。's　leg。　He　is　a　man　of　the　very　highest　morale；　Magennis。　
Speaking　about　me。　What　did　he　say？　What　did　he　say？　What　did　he　say　about　me？　Don't　ask。　
　No；　thanks；　professor　MacHugh　said；　waving　the　cigarette　case　aside。　Wait　a　moment。　Let　me　say　one　thing。　The　finest　display　of　oratory　I　ever　heard　was　a　speech　made　by　John　F。　Taylor　at　the　college　historical　society。　Mr　Justice　Fitzgibbon；　the　present　lord　justice　of　appeal；　had　spoken　and　the　paper　under　debate　was　an　essay　（new　for　those　days）；　advocating　the　revival　of　the　Irish　tongue。　
He　turned　towards　Myles　Crawford　and　said：　
　You　know　Gerald　Fitzgibbon。　Then　you　can　imagine　the　style　of　his　discourse。　
　He　is　sitting　with　Tim　Healy；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said；　rumour　has　it；　on　the　Trinity　college　estates　mission。　
　He　is　sitting　with　a　sweet　thing　in　a　child's　frock；　Myles　Cra