Улисс

           CyrilSargent:hisnameandseal.

           —MrDeasytoldmetowritethemoutallagain,hesaid,andshowthemtoyou,sir.

           Stephentouchedtheedgesofthebook.Futility.

           —Doyouunderstandhowtodothemnow?heasked.

           —Numberseleventofifteen,Sargentanswered.MrDeasysaidIwastocopythemofftheboard,sir.

           —Canyoudothemyourself?Stephenasked.

           —No,sir.

           Uglyandfutile:leanneckandtangledhairandastainofink,asnail’sbed.Yetsomeonehadlovedhim,bornehiminherarmsandinherheart.Butforhertheraceoftheworldwouldhavetrampledhimunderfoot,asquashedbonelesssnail.Shehadlovedhisweakwateryblooddrainedfromherown.Wasthatthenreal?Theonlytruethinginlife?Hismother’sprostratebodythefieryColumbanusinholyzealbestrode.Shewasnomore:thetremblingskeletonofatwigburntinthefire,anodourofrosewoodandwettedashes.Shehadsavedhimfrombeingtrampledunderfootandhadgone,scarcelyhavingbeen.Apoorsoulgonetoheaven:andonaheathbeneathwinkingstarsafox,redreekofrapineinhisfur,withmercilessbrighteyesscrapedintheearth,listened,scrapeduptheearth,listened,scrapedandscraped.

           SittingathissideStephensolvedouttheproblem.HeprovesbyalgebrathatShakespeare’sghostisHamlet’sgrandfather.Sargentpeeredaskancethroughhisslantedglasses.Hockeysticksrattledinthelumberroom:thehollowknockofaballandcallsfromthefield.

           Acrossthepagethesymbolsmovedingravemorrice,inthemummeryoftheirletters,wearingquaintcapsofsquaresandcubes.