Улисс

           Theireyesknewtheiryearsofwanderingand,patient,knewthedishonoursoftheirflesh.

           —Whohasnot?Stephensaid.

           —Whatdoyoumean?MrDeasyasked.

           Hecameforwardapaceandstoodbythetable.Hisunderjawfellsidewaysopenuncertainly.Isthisoldwisdom?Hewaitstohearfromme.

           —History,Stephensaid,isanightmarefromwhichIamtryingtoawake.

           Fromtheplayfieldtheboysraisedashout.Awhirringwhistle:goal.Whatifthatnightmaregaveyouabackkick?

           —ThewaysoftheCreatorarenotourways,MrDeasysaid.Allhumanhistorymovestowardsonegreatgoal,themanifestationofGod.

           Stephenjerkedhisthumbtowardsthewindow,saying:

           —ThatisGod.

           Hooray!Ay!Whrrwhee!

           —What?MrDeasyasked.

           —Ashoutinthestreet,Stephenanswered,shrugginghisshoulders.

           MrDeasylookeddownandheldforawhilethewingsofhisnosetweakedbetweenhisfingers.Lookingupagainhesetthemfree.

           —Iamhappierthanyouare,hesaid.Wehavecommittedmanyerrorsandmanysins.Awomanbroughtsinintotheworld.Forawomanwhowasnobetterthansheshouldbe,Helen,therunawaywifeofMenelaus,tenyearstheGreeksmadewaronTroy.Afaithlesswifefirstbroughtthestrangerstoourshorehere,MacMurrough’swifeandherleman,O’Rourke,princeofBreffni.AwomantoobroughtParnelllow.Manyerrors,manyfailuresbutnottheonesin.Iamastrugglernowattheendofmydays.ButIwillfightfortherighttilltheend.

           ForUlsterwillfight

           AndUlsterwillberight.

           Stephenraisedthesheetsinhishand.

           —Well,sir,hebegan.