尤利西斯-第6章

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He　went　to　the　desk　near　the　window；　pulled　in　his　chair　twice　and　read　off　some　words　from　the　sheet　on　the　drum　of　his　typewriter。　
　Sit　down。　Excuse　me；　he　said　over　his　shoulder；　the　dictates　of　mon　sense。　Just　a　moment。　
He　peered　from　under　his　shaggy　brows　at　the　manuscript　by　his　elbow　and；　muttering；　began　to　prod　the　stiff　buttons　of　the　keyboard　slowly；　some　times　blowing　as　he　screwed　up　the　drum　to　erase　an　error。　
Stephen　seated　himself　noiselessly　before　the　princely　presence。　Framed　around　the　walls　images　of　vanished　horses　stood　in　homage；　their　meek　heads　poised　in　air：　lord　Hastings'　Repulse；　the　duke　of　Westminster's　Shotover；　the　duke　of　Beaufort's　Ceylon；　prix　de　Paris；　1866。　Elfin　riders　sat　them；　watchful　of　a　sign。　He　saw　their　speeds；　backing　King's　colours；　and　shouted　with　the　shouts　of　vanished　crowds。　
　Full　stop；　Mr　Deasy　bade　his　keys。　But　prompt　ventilation　of　this　important　question。。。　
Where　Cranly　led　me　to　get　rich　quick；　hunting　his　winners　among　the　mudsplashed　brakes；　amid　the　bawls　of　bookies　on　their　pitches　and　reek　of　the　canteen；　over　the　motley　slush。　Even　money　Fair　Rebel：　ten　to　one　the　field。　Dicers　and　thimbleriggers　we　hurried　by　after　the　hoofs；　the　vying　caps　and　jackets　and　past　the　meatfaced　woman；　a　butcher's　dame；　nuzzling　thirstily　her　clove　of　orange。　
Shouts　rang　shrill　from　the　boys'　playfield　and　a　whirring　whistle。　
Again：　a　goal。　I　am　among　them；　among　their　battling　bodies　in　a　medley；　the　joust　of　life。　You　mean　that　knockkneed　mother's　darling　who　seems　to　be　slightly　crawsick？　Jousts。　Time　shocked　rebounds；　shock　by　shock。　Jousts；　slush　and　uproar　of　battles；　the　frozen　deathspew　of　the　slain；　a　shout　of　spear　spikes　baited　with　men's　bloodied　guts。　
　Now　then；　Mr　Deasy　said；　rising。　
He　came　to　the　table；　pinning　together　his　sheets。　Stephen　stood　up。　
　I　have　put　the　matter　into　a　nutshell；　Mr　Deasy　said。　It's　about　the　foot　and　mouth　disease。　Just　look　through　it。　There　can　be　no　two　opinions　on　the　matter。　
May　I　trespass　on　your　valuable　space。　That　doctrine　of　laissez　faire　which　so　often　in　our　history。　Our　cattle　trade。　The　way　of　all　our　old　industries。　Liverpool　ring　which　jockeyed　the　Galway　harbour　scheme。　European　conflagration。　Grain　supplies　through　the　narrow　waters　of　the　channel。　The　pluterperfect　imperturbability　of　the　department　of　agriculture。　Pardoned　a　classical　allusion。　Cassandra。　By　a　woman　who　was　no　better　than　she　should　be。　To　e　to　the　point　at　issue。　
　I　don't　mince　words；　do　I？　Mr　Deasy　asked　as　Stephen　read　on。　
Foot　and　mouth　disease。　Known　as　Koch's　preparation。　Serum　and　virus。　Percentage　of　salted　horses。　Rinderpest。　Emperor's　horses　at　Mürzsteg；　lower　Austria。　Veterinary　surgeons。　Mr　Henry　Blackwood　Price。　Courteous　offer　a　fair　trial；　Dictates　of　mon　sense。　Allimportant　question。　In　every　sense　of　the　word　take　the　bull　by　the　horns。　Thanking　you　for　the　hospitality　of　your　columns。　
　I　want　that　to　be　printed　and　read；　Mr　Deasy　said。　You　will　see　at　the　next　outbreak　they　will　put　an　embargo　on　Irish　cattle。　And　it　can　be　cured。　It　is　cured。　My　cousin；　Blackwood　Price；　writes　to　me　it　is　regularly　treated　and　cured　in　Austria　by　cattledoctors　there。　They　offer　to　e　over　here。　I　am　trying　to　work　up　influence　with　the　department。　Now　I'm　going　to　try　publicity。　I　am　surrounded　by　difficulties；　by。。。　intrigues；　by。。。　backstairs　influence；　by。。。　
He　raised　his　forefinger　and　beat　the　air　oldly　before　his　voice　spoke。　
　Mark　my　words；　Mr　Dedalus；　he　said。　England　is　in　the　hands　of　the　jews。　In　all　the　highest　places：　her　finance；　her　press。　And　they　are　the　signs　of　a　nation's　decay。　Wherever　they　gather　they　eat　up　the　nation's　vital　strength。　I　have　seen　it　ing　these　years。　As　sure　as　we　are　standing　here　the　jew　merchants　are　already　at　their　work　of　destruction。　Old　England　is　dying。　
He　stepped　swiftly　off；　his　eyes　ing　to　blue　life　as　they　passed　a　broad　sunbeam。　He　faced　about　and　back　again。　
　Dying；　he　said；　if　not　dead　by　now。　
The　harlot's　cry　from　street　to　street
Shall　weave　old　England's　winding　sheet。
His　eyes　open　wide　in　vision　stared　sternly　across　the　sunbeam　in　which　he　halted。　
　A　merchant；　Stephen　said；　is　one　who　buys　cheap　and　sells　dear；　jew　or　gentile；　is　he　not？　
　They　sinned　against　the　light；　Mr　Deasy　said　gravely。　And　you　can　see　the　darkness　in　their　eyes。　And　that　is　why　they　are　wanderers　on　the　earth　to　this　day。　
On　the　steps　of　the　Paris　Stock　Exchange　the　goldskinned　men　quoting　prices　on　their　gemmed　fingers。　Gabbles　of　geese。　They　swarmed　loud；　uncouth　about　the　temple；　their　heads　thickplotting　under　maladroit　silk　hats。　Not　theirs：　these　clothes；　this　speech；　these　gestures。　Their　full　slow　eyes　belied　the　words；　the　gestures　eager　and　unoffending；　but　knew　the　rancours　massed　about　them　and　knew　their　zeal　was　vain。　Vain　patience　to　heap　and　hoard。　Time　surely　would　scatter　all。　A　hoard　heaped　by　the　roadside：　plundered　and　passing　on。　Their　eyes　knew　the　years　of　wandering　and；　patient；　knew　the　dishonours　of　their　flesh。　
　Who　has　not？　Stephen　said。　
　What　do　you　mean？　Mr　Deasy　asked。　
He　came　forward　a　pace　and　stood　by　the　table。　His　underjaw　fell　sideways　open　uncertainly。　Is　this　old　wisdom？　He　waits　to　hear　from　me。　
　History；　Stephen　said；　is　a　nightmare　from　which　I　am　trying　to　awake。　
From　the　playfield　the　boys　raised　a　shout。　A　whirring　whistle：　goal。　What　if　that　nightmare　gave　you　a　back　kick？　
　The　ways　of　the　Creator　are　not　our　ways；　Mr　Deasy　said。　All　history　moves　towards　one　great　goal；　the　manifestation　of　God。　
Stephen　jerked　his　thumb　towards　the　window；　saying：　
　That　is　God。　
Hooray！　Ay！　Whrrwhee！　
　What？　Mr　Deasy　asked。　
　A　shout　in　the　street；　Stephen　answered；　shrugging　his　shoulders。　
Mr　Deasy　looked　down　and　held　for　a　while　the　wings　of　his　nose　tweaked　between　his　fingers。　Looking　up　again　he　set　them　free。　
　I　am　happier　than　you　are；　he　said。　We　have　mitted　many　errors　and　many　sins。　A　woman　brought　sin　into　the　world。　For　a　woman　who　was　no　better　than　she　should　be；　Helen；　the　runaway　wife　of　Menelaus；　ten　years　the　Greeks　made　war　on　Troy。　A　faithless　wife　first　brought　the　strangers　to　our　shore　here；　MacMurrough's　wife　and　her　leman　O'Rourke；　prince　of　Breffni。　A　woman　too　brought　Parnell　low。　Many　errors；　many　failures　but　not　the　one　sin。　I　am　a　struggler　now　at　the　end　of　my　days。　But　I　will　fight　for　the　right　till　the　end。　
For　Ulster　will　fight
And　Ulster　will　be　right。
Stephen　raised　the　sheets　in　his　hand。　
　Well；　sir；　he　began。　
　I　foresee；　Mr　Deasy　said；　that　you　will　not　remain　here　very　long　at　this　work。　You　were　not　born　to　be　a　teacher；　I　think。　Perhaps　I　am　wrong。　
　A　learner　rather；　Stephen　said。　
And　here　what　will　you　learn　more？　
Mr　Deasy　shook　his　head。　
　Who　knows？　he　said。　To　learn　one　must　be　humble。　But　life　is　the　great　teacher。　
Stephen　rustled　the　sheets　again。　
　As　regards　these；　he　began。　
　Yes；　Mr　Deasy　said。　You　have　two　copies　there。　If　you　can　have　them　published　at　once。　
Telegraph。　Irish　Homestead。　
　I　will　try；　Stephen　said；　and　let　you　know　tomorrow。　I　know　two　editors　slightly。　
That　will　do；　Mr　Deasy　said　briskly。　I　wrote　last　night　to　Mr　Field；　M。P。　There　is　a　meeting　of　the　cattletraders'　association　today　at　the　City　Arms　Hotel。　I　asked　him　to　lay　my　letter　before　the　meeting。　You　see　if　you　can　get　it　into　your　two　papers。　What　are　they？　
　The　Evening　Telegraph。。。　
　That　will　do；　Mr　Deasy　said。　There　is　no　time　to　lose。　Now　I　have　to　answer　that　letter　from　my　cousin。　
　Good　morning；　sir；　Stephen　said；　putting　the　sheets　in　his　pocket。　Thank　you。　
　Not　at　all；　Mr　Deasy　said　as　he　searched　the　papers　on　his　desk。　I　like　to　break　a　lance　with　you；　old　as　I　am。　
　Good　morning；　sir；　Stephen　said　again；　bowing　to　his　bent　back。　
He　went　out　by　the　open　porch　and　down　the　gravel　path　under　the　trees；　hearing　the　cries　of　voices　and　crack　of　sticks　from　the　playfield。　The　lions　couchant　on　the　pillars　as　he　passed　out　through　the　gate；　toothless　terrors。　Still　I　will　help　him　in　his　fight。　Mulligan　will　dub　me　a　new　name：　the　bullockbefriending　bard。　
　Mr　Dedalus！　
Running　after　me。　No　more　letters；　I　hope。　
　Just　one　moment。　
　Yes；　sir；　Stephen　said；　turning　back　at　the　gate。　
Mr　Deasy　halted；　breathing　hard　and　swallowing　his　breath。　
　I　just　wanted　to　say；　he　said。　Ireland；　they　say；　has　the　honour　of　being　the　only　country　which　never　persecuted　the　jews。　Do　you　know　that？　No。　And　do　you　know　why？　
He　frowned　sternly　on　the　bright　air。　
　Why；　sir？　Stephen　asked；　beginning　to　smile。　
　Because　she　never　let　them　in；　Mr　Deasy　said　solemnly。　
A　coughball　of　laughter　leaped　from　his　throat　dragging　after　it　a　rattling　chain　of　phlegm。　He　turned　back　quickly；　coughing；　laughing；　his　lifted　arms　waving　to　the　air。　
　She　never　let　them　in；　he　cried　again　through　his　laughter　as　he　stamped　on　gaitered　feet　over　the　gravel　of　the　path。　That's　why。　
On　his　wise　shoulders　through　the　checkerwork　of　leaves　the　sun　flung　spangles；　dancing　coins。　
Proteus
INELUCTABLE　MODALITY　OF　THE　VISIBLE：　AT　LEAST　THAT　IF　NO　MORE；　thought　through　my　eyes。　Signatures　of　all　things　I　am　here　to　read；　seaspawn　and　seawrack；　the　nearing　tide；　that　rusty　boot。　Snotgreen；　bluesilver；　rust：　coloured　signs。　Limits　of　the　diaphane。　But　he　adds：　in　bodies。　Then　he　was　aware　of　them　bodies　before　of　them　coloured。　How？　By　knocking　his　sconce　against　them；　sure。　Go　easy。　Bald　he　was　and　a　millionaire；　maestro　di　color　che　sanno。　Limit　of　the　diaphane　in。　Why　in？　Diaphane；　adiaphane。　If　you　can　put　your　five　fingers　through　it；　it　is　a　gate；　if　not　a　door。　Shut　your　eyes　and　see。　
Stephen　closed　his　eyes　to　hear　his　boots　crush　crackling　wrack　and　shells。　You　are　walking　through　it　howsomever。　I　am；　a　stride　at　a　time。　A　very　short　space　of　time　through　very　short　times　of　space。　Five；　six：　the　nacheinander。　Exactly：　and　that　is　the　ineluctable　modality　of　the　audible。　Open　your　eyes。　No。　Jesus！　If　I　fell　over　a　cliff　that　beetles　o'er　his　base；　fell　through　the　nebeneinander　ineluctably。　I　am　getting　on　nicely　in　the　dark。　My　ash　sword　hangs　at　my　side。　Tap　with　it：　they　do。　My　two　feet　in　his　boots　are　at　the　end　of　his　legs；　nebeneinander。　Sounds　solid：　made　by　the　mallet　of　Los　Demiurgos。　Am　I　walking　into　eternity　along　Sandymount　strand？　Crush；　crack；　crick；　crick。　Wild　sea　money。　Dominie　Deasy　kens　them　a'。　
Won't　you　e　to　Sandymount；　
Madeline　the　mare？
Rhythm　begins；　you　see。　I　hear。　A　catalectic　tetrameter　of　iambs　marching。　No；　agallop：　deline　the　mare。　
Open　your　eyes　now。　I　will。　One　moment。　Has　all　vanished　since？　If　I　open　and　am　for　ever　in　the　black　adiaphane。　Basta！　I　will　see　if　I　can　see。　
See　now。　There　all　the　time　without　you：　and　ever　shall　be；　world　without　end。　
They　came　down　the　steps　from　Leahy's　terrace　prudently；　Frauenzimmer：　and　down　the　shelving　shore　flabbily　their　splayed　feet　sinking　in　the　silted　sand。　Like　me；　like　Algy；　ing　down　to　our　mighty　mother。　Number　one　swung　lourdily　her　midwife's　bag；　the　other's　gamp　poked　in　the　beach。　From　the　liberties；　out　for　the　day。　Mrs　Florence　MacCabe；　relict　of　the　late　Patk　MacCabe；　deeply　lamented；　of　Bride　Street。　One　of　her　sisterhood　lugged　me　squealing　into　life。　Creation　from　nothing。　What　has　she　in