Улисс

           Stephenstoodathispost,gazingoverthecalmseatowardstheheadland.Seaandheadlandnowgrewdim.Pulseswerebeatinginhiseyes,veilingtheirsight,andhefeltthefeverofhischeeks.

           Avoicewithinthetowercalledloudly:

           —Areyouupthere,Mulligan?

           —I’mcoming,BuckMulligananswered.

           HeturnedtowardsStephenandsaid:

           —Lookatthesea.Whatdoesitcareaboutoffences?ChuckLoyola,Kinch,andcomeondown.TheSassenachwantshismorningrashers.

           Hisheadhaltedagainforamomentatthetopofthestaircase,levelwiththeroof:

           —Don’tmopeoveritallday,hesaid.I’minconsequent.Giveupthemoodybrooding.

           Hisheadvanishedbutthedroneofhisdescendingvoiceboomedoutofthestairhead:

           Andnomoreturnasideandbrood

           Uponlove’sbittermystery

           ForFergusrulesthebrazencars.

           Woodshadowsfloatedsilentlybythroughthemorningpeacefromthestairheadseawardwherehegazed.Inshoreandfartheroutthemirrorofwaterwhitened,spurnedbylightshodhurryingfeet.Whitebreastofthedimsea.Thetwiningstresses,twobytwo.Ahandpluckingtheharpstrings,mergingtheirtwiningchords.Wavewhiteweddedwordsshimmeringonthedimtide.

           Acloudbegantocoverthesunslowly,wholly,shadowingthebayindeepergreen.Itlaybeneathhim,abowlofbitterwaters.Fergus’song:Isangitaloneinthehouse,holdingdownthelongdarkchords.Herdoorwasopen:shewantedtohearmymusic.SilentwithaweandpityIwenttoherbedside.Shewascryinginherwretchedbed.Forthosewords,Stephen:love’sbittermystery.