尤利西斯-第40章

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　Where　did　you　try？　Boody　asked。　
　M'Guinness's。　
Body　stamped　her　foot　and　threw　her　satchel　on　the　table。　
　Bad　cess　to　her　big　face！　she　cried。　
Katey　went　to　the　range　and　peered　with　squinting　eyes。　
　What's　in　the　pot？　she　asked。　
　Shirts；　Maggy　said。　
Boody　cried　angrily：　
　Crickey；　is　there　nothing　for　us　to　eat？　
Katey；　lifting　the　kettlelid　in　a　pad　of　her　stained　skirt；　asked：　
　And　what's　in　this？　
A　heavy　fume　gushed　in　answer。　
　Peasoup；　Maggy　said。　
　Where　did　you　get　it？　Katey　asked。　
　Sister　Mary　Patrick；　Maggy　said。　
The　lacquey　rang　his　bell。　
　Barang！　
Boody　sat　down　at　the　table　and　said　hungrily：　
　Give　us　it　here！　
Maggy　poured　yellow　thick　soup　from　the　kettle　into　a　bowl。　Katey；　sitting　opposite　Boody；　said　quietly；　as　her　fingertip　lifted　to　her　mouth　random　crumbs。　
　A　good　job　we　have　that　much。　Where's　Dilly？　
　Gone　to　meet　father；　Maggy　said。　
Boody；　breaking　big　chunks　of　bread　into　the　yellow　soup；　added：　
　Our　father　who　art　not　in　heaven。　
Maggy；　pouring　yellow　soup　in　Katey's　bowl；　exclaimed：　
　Boody！　For　shame！　
A　skiff；　a　crumpled　throwaway；　Elijah　is　ing；　rode　lightly　down　the　Liffey；　under　Loopline　bridge；　shooting　the　rapids　where　water　chafed　around　the　bridgepiers；　sailing　eastward　past　hulls　and　anchorchains；　between　the　Customhouse　old　dock　and　George's　quay。　
The　blonde　girl　in　Thornton's　bedded　the　wicker　basket　with　rustling　fibre。　Blazes　Boylan　handed　her　the　bottle　swathed　in　pink　tissue　paper　and　a　small　jar。　
　Put　these　in　first；　will　you？　he　said。　
　Yes；　sir；　the　blond　girl　said；　and　the　fruit　on　top。　
　That'll　do；　game　ball；　Blazes　Boylan　said。　
She　bestowed　fat　pears　neatly；　head　by　tail；　and　among　them　ripe　shamefaced　peaches。　
Blazes　Boylan　walked　here　and　there　in　new　tan　shoes　about　the　fruitsmelling　shop；　lifting　fruits；　young　juicy　crinkled　and　plump　red　tomatoes；　sniffing　smells。　
H。　E。　L。　Y。'S。　filed　before　him；　tallwhitehatted；　past　Tangier　lane；　plodding　towards　their　goal。　
He　turned　suddenly　from　a　chip　of　strawberries；　drew　a　gold　watch　from　his　fob　and　held　it　at　its　chain's　length。　
　Can　you　send　them　by　tram？　Now？　
A　darkbacked　figure　under　Merchants'　arch　scanned　books　on　the　hawker's　car。　
　Certainly；　sir。　Is　it　in　the　city？　
　O；　yes；　Blazes　Boylan　said。　Ten　minutes。　
The　blond　girl　handed　him　a　docket　and　pencil。　
　Will　you　write　the　address；　sir？　
Blazes　Boylan　at　the　counter　wrote　and　pushed　the　docket　to　her。　
　Send　it　at　once；　will　you？　he　said。　It's　for　an　invalid。　
　Yes；　sir。　I　will；　sir。　
Blazes　Boylan　rattled　merry　money　in　his　trousers'　pocket。　
　What's　the　damage？　he　asked。　
The　blond　girl's　slim　fingers　reckoned　the　fruits。　
Blazes　Boylan　looked　into　the　cut　of　her　blouse。　A　young　pullet。　He　took　a　red　carnation　from　the　tall　stemglass。　
　This　for　me？　he　asked　gallantly。　
The　blond　girl　glanced　sideways　at　him；　got　up　regardless；　with　his　tie　a　bit　crooked；　blushing。　
　Yes；　sir；　she　said。　
Bending　archly　she　reckoned　again　fat　pears　and　blushing　peaches。　
Blazes　Boylan　looked　in　her　blouse　with　more　favour；　the　stalk　of　the　red　flower　between　his　smiling　teeth。　
　May　I　say　a　word　to　your　telephone；　missy？　he　asked　roguishly。　
　Ma！　Almidano　Artifoni　said。　
He　gazed　over　Stephen's　shoulder　at　Goldsmith's　knobby　poll。　
Two　carfuls　of　tourists　passed　slowly；　their　women　sitting　fore；　gripping　frankly　the　handrests。　Pale　faces。　Men's　arms　frankly　round　their　stunted　forms。　They　looked　from　Trinity　to　the　blind　columned　porch　of　the　bank　of　Ireland　where　pigeons　roocoocooed。　
　Anch'io　ho　avuto　di　queste　idee；　Almidano　Artifoni　said；　quand'　ero　giovine　e　Lei。　Eppoi　mi　sono　convinto　che　il　mondo　è　una　bestia。　è　peccato。　Perche　la　sua　voce。。。　sarebbe　un　cespite　di　rendita；　via。　Invece；　Lei　si　sacrifica。　
　Sacrifizio　incruento；　Stephen　said　smiling；　swaying　his　ashplant　in　slow　swingswong　from　its　midpoint；　lightly。　
　Speriamo；　the　round　mustachioed　face　said　pleasantly。　Ma；　dia　retta　a　me。　Ci　rifletta。　
By　the　stern　stone　hand　of　Grattan；　bidding　halt；　an　Inchicore　tram　unloaded　straggling　Highland　soldiers　of　a　band。　
　Ci　riflettò；　Stephen　said；　glancing　down　the　solid　trouser…leg。　
　Ma；　sul　serio；　eh？　Almidano　Artifoni　said。　
His　heavy　hand　took　Stephen's　firmly。　Human　eyes。　They　gazed　curiously　an　instant　and　turned　quickly　towards　a　Dalkey　tram。　
　Eccolo；　Almidano　Artifoni　said　in　friendly　haste。　Venga　a　trovarmi　e　ci　pensi。　Addio；　caro。　
　Arrivederla；　maestro；　Stephen　said；　raising　his　hat　when　his　hand　was　freed。　E　grazie。　
　Di　che？　Almidano　Artifoni　said。　Scusi；　eh？　Tante　belle　cose！　
Almidano　Artifoni；　holding　up　a　baton　of　rolled　music　as　a　signal；　trotted　on　stout　trousers　after　the　Dalkey　tram。　In　vain　he　trotted；　signalling　in　vain　among　the　rout　of　bare…kneed　gillies　smuggling　implements　of　music　through　Trinity　gates。　
Miss　Dunne　hid　the　Capel　street　library　copy　of　The　Woman　in　White　far　back　in　her　drawer　and　rolled　a　sheet　of　gaudy　notepaper　into　her　typewriter。　
Too　much　mystery　business　in　it。　Is　he　in　love　with　that　one；　Marion？　Change　it　and　get　another　by　Mary　Cecil　Haye。　
The　disk　shot　down　the　groove；　wobbled　a　while；　ceased　and　ogled　them：　six。　
Miss　Dunne　clicked　on　the　keyboard：　
　16　June　1904。　
Five　tallwhitehatted　sandwichmen　between　Monypeny's　corner　and　the　slab　where　Wolfe　Tone's　statue　was　not；　eeled　themselves　turning　H。　E。　L。　Y。'S　and　plodded　back　as　they　had　e。　
Then　she　stared　at　the　large　poster　of　Marie　Kendall；　charming　soubrette；　and；　listlessly　lolling；　scribbled　on　the　jotter　sixteens　and　capital　esses。　Mustard　hair　and　dauby　cheeks。　She's　not　nicelooking；　is　she？　The　way　she　is　holding　up　her　bit　of　a　skirt。　Wonder　will　that　fellow　be　at　the　band　tonight。　If　I　could　get　that　dressmaker　to　make　a　concertina　skirt　like　Susy　Nagle's。　They　kick　out　grand。　Shannon　and　all　the　boatclub　swells　never　took　his　eyes　off　her。　Hope　to　goodness　he　won't　keep　me　here　till　seven。　
The　telephone　rang　rudely　by　her　ear。　
　Hello。　Yes；　sir。　No；　sir。　Yes；　sir。　I'll　ring　them　up　after　five。　Only　those　two；　sir；　for　Belfast　and　Liverpool。　All　right；　sir。　Then　I　can　go　after　six　if　you're　not　back。　A　quarter　after。　Yes；　sir。　Twentyseven　and　six。　I'll　tell　him。　Yes：　one；　seven；　six。　
She　scribbled　three　figures　on　an　envelope。　
　Mr　Boylan　l　Hello！　That　gentleman　from　Sport　was　in　looking　for　you。　Mr　Lenehan；　yes。　He　said　he'll　be　in　the　Ormond　at　four。　No；　sir。　Yes；　sir。　I'll　ring　them　up　after　five。　
Two　pink　faces　turned　in　the　flare　of　the　tiny　torch。　
　Who's　that？　Ned　Lambert　asked。　Is　that　Crotty？　
　Ringabella　and　Crosshaven；　a　voice　replied；　groping　for　foothold。　
　Hello；　Jack；　is　that　yourself？　Ned　Lambert　said；　raising　in　salute　his　pliant　lath　among　the　flickering　arches。　e　on。　Mind　your　steps　there。　
The　vesta　in　the　clergyman's　uplifted　hand　consumed　itself　In　a　long　soft　flame　and　was　let　fall。　At　their　feet　its　red　speck　died：　and　mouldy　air　closed　round　them。　
　How　interesting！　a　refined　accent　said　in　the　gloom。　
　Yes；　sir；　Ned　Lambert　said　heartily。　We　are　standing　in　the　historic　council　chamber　of　saint　Mary's　abbey　where　silken　Thomas　proclaimed　himself　a　rebel　in　1534。　This　is　the　most　historic　spot　in　all　Dublin。　O'Madden　Burke　is　going　to　write　something　about　it　one　of　these　days。　The　old　bank　of　Ireland　was　over　the　way　till　the　time　of　the　union　and　the　original　jews'　temple　was　here　too　before　they　built　their　synagogue　over　in　Adelaide　road。　You　were　never　here　before；　Jack；　were　you？　
　No；　Ned。　
　He　rode　down　through　Dame　walk；　the　refined　accent　said；　if　my　memory　serves　me。　The　mansion　of　the　Kildares　was　in　Thomas　court。　
　That's　right；　Ned　Lambert　said。　That's　quite　right；　sir。　
　If　you　will　be　so　kind　then；　the　clergyman　said；　the　next　time　to　allow　me　perhaps　。　
　Certainly；　Ned　Lambert　said。　Bring　the　camera　whenever　you　like。　I'll　get　those　bags　cleared　away　from　the　windows。　You　can　take　it　from　here　or　from　here。　
In　the　still　faint　light　he　moved　about；　tapping　with　his　lath　the　piled　seedbags　and　points　of　vantage　on　the　floor。　
From　a　long　face　a　beard　and　gaze　hung　on　a　chessboard。　
　I'm　deeply　obliged；　Mr　Lambert；　the　clergyman　said。　I　won't　trespass　on　your　valuable　time。。。　
　You're　wele；　sir；　Ned　Lambert　said。　Drop　in　whenever　you　like。　Next　week；　say。　Can　you　see？　
　Yes；　yes。　Good　afternoon；　Mr　Lambert。　Very　pleased　to　have　met　you。　
　Pleasure　is　mine；　sir；　Ned　Lambert　answered。　
He　followed　his　guest　to　the　outlet　and　then　whirled　his　lath　away　among　the　pillars。　With　J。J。　O'Molloy　he　came　forth　slowly　into　Mary's　abbey　where　draymen　were　loading　floats　with　sacks　of　carob　and　palmnut　meal；　O'Connor；　Wexford。　
He　stood　to　read　the　card　in　his　hand。　
　The　reverend　Hugh　C。　Love；　Rathcoffey。　Present　address：　Saint　Michael's；　Sallins。　Nice　young　chap　he　is。　He's　writing　a　book　about　the　Fitzgeralds　he　told　me。　He's　well　up　in　history；　faith。　
The　young　woman　with　slow　care　detached　from　her　light　skirt　a　clinging　twig。　
　I　thought　you　were　at　a　new　gunpowder　plot；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said。　
Ned　Lambert　cracked　his　fingers　in　the　air。　
　God；　he　cried。　I　forgot　to　tell　him　that　one　about　the　earl　of　Kildare　after　he　set　fire　to　Cashel　cathedral。　You　know　that　one？　I'm　bloody　sorry　I　did　it；　says　he；　but　I　declare　to　God　I　thought　the　archbishop　was　inside。　He　mightn't　like　it；　though。　What？　God；　I'll　tell　him　anyhow。　That　was　the　great　earl；　the　Fitzgerald　Mor。　Hot　members　they　were　all　of　them；　the　Geraldines。　
The　horses　he　passed　started　nervously　under　their　slack　harness。　He　slapped　a　piebald　haunch　quivering　near　him　and　cried：　
　Woa；　sonny！　
He　turned　to　J。J。　O'Molloy　and　asked：　
　Well；　Jack。　What　is　it？　What's　the　trouble？　Wait　a　while。　Holdhard。　
With　gaping　mouth　and　head　far　back　he　stood　still　and；　after　an　instant；　sneezed　loudly。　
　Chow！　he　said。　Blast　you！　
　The　dust　from　those　sacks；　J。J。　O'Molloy　said　politely。　
　No；　Ned　Lambert　gasped；　I　caught　a。。。　cold　night　before　。。。　blast　your　soul。。。　night　before　last。。。　and　there　was　a　hell　of　a　lot　of　draught。。。　
He　held　his　handkerchief　ready　for　the　ing。。。　
　I　was。。。　this　morning。。。　poor　little。。。　what　do　you　call　him。。。　Chow！。。。　Mother　of　Moses！　
Tom　Rochford　took　the　top　disk　from　the　pile　he　clasped　against　his　claret　waistcoat。　
　See？　he　said。　Say　it's　turn　six。　In　here；　see。　Turn　Now　On。　
He　slid　it　into　the　left　slot　for　them。　It　shot　down　the　groove；　wobbled　a　while；　ceased；　ogling　them：　six。　
Lawyers　of　the　past；　haughty；　pleading；　beheld　pass　from　the　consolidated　taxing　office　to　Nisi　Prius　court　Richie　Goulding　carrying　the　costbag　of　Goulding；　Collis　and　Ward　and　heard　rustling　from　the　admiralty　division　of　King's　bench　to　the　court　of　appeal　an　elderly　female　with　false　teeth　smiling　incredulously　and　a　black　silk　skirt　of　great　amplitude。　
　See？　he　said。　See　now　the　last　one　I　put　in　is　over　here。　Turns　Over。　The　impact。　Leverage；　see？　
He　showed　them　the　rising　column　of　disks　on　the　right。　
　Smart　idea；　Nosey　Flynn　said；　snuffling。　So　a　fellow　ing　in　late　can　see　what　turn　is　on　and　what　turns　are　over。　
　See？　Tom　Rochford　said。　
He　slid　in　a　disk　for　himself：　and　watched　it　shoot；　wobble；　ogle；　stop：　four。　Turn　Now　On。　
　I'll　see　him　now　in　the　Ormond；　Lenehan　said；　and　sound　him。　One　good　turn　deserves　another。　
　Do