Улисс

           Butbeshrewme,hecried,clappinghandtohisforehead,tomorrowwillbeanewdayand,thousandthunders,Iknowofamarchanddecapotes,MonsieurPoyntz,fromwhomIcanhaveforalivreassnugacloakoftheFrenchfashionaseverkeptaladyfromwetting.Tut,tut!criesLeFécondateur,trippingin,myfriendMonsieurMoore,thatmostaccomplishedtraveller(Ihavejustcrackedahalfbottleavecluiinacircleofthebestwitsofthetown),ismyauthoritythatinCapeHorn,ventrebiche,theyhavearainthatwillwetthroughany,eventhestoutestcloak.Adrenchingofthatviolence,hetellsme,sansblague,hassentmorethanonelucklessfellowingoodearnestposthastetoanotherworld.Pooh!Alivre!criesMonsieurLynch.Theclumsythingsaredearatasou.Oneumbrella,wereitnobiggerthanafairymushroom,isworthtensuchstopgaps.Nowomanofanywitwouldwearone.MydearKittytoldmetodaythatshewoulddanceinadelugebeforeevershewouldstarveinsuchanarkofsalvationfor,assheremindedme(blushingpiquantlyandwhisperinginmyearthoughtherewasnonetosnapherwordsbutgiddybutterflies),dameNature,bythedivineblessing,hasimplanteditinourheartsandithasbecomeahouseholdwordthatilyadeuxchosesforwhichtheinnocenceofouroriginalgarb,inothercircumstancesabreachoftheproprieties,isthefittest,nay,theonlygarment.Thefirst,saidshe(andheremyprettyphilosopher,asIhandedhertohertilbury,tofixmyattention,gentlytippedwithhertonguetheouterchamberofmyear),thefirstisabath...