Улісс
Chapter 3
MartinCunningham’slargeeyes.Lookingawaynow.Sympathetichumanmanheis.Intelligent.LikeShakespeare’sface.Alwaysagoodwordtosay.Theyhavenomercyonthathereorinfanticide.Refusechristianburial.Theyusedtodriveastakeofwoodthroughhisheartinthegrave.Asifitwasn’tbrokenalready.Yetsometimestheyrepenttoolate.Foundintheriverbedclutchingrushes.Helookedatme.Andthatawfuldrunkardofawifeofhis.SettinguphouseforhertimeaftertimeandthenpawningthefurnitureonhimeverySaturdayalmost.Leadinghimthelifeofthedamned.Weartheheartoutofastone,that.Mondaymorning.Startafresh.Shouldertothewheel.Lord,shemusthavelookedasightthatnightDedalustoldmehewasinthere.DrunkabouttheplaceandcaperingwithMartin’sumbrella.
AndtheycallmethejewelofAsia,
OfAsia,
Thegeisha.
Helookedawayfromme.Heknows.Rattlehisbones.
Thatafternoonoftheinquest.Theredlabelledbottleonthetable.Theroominthehotelwithhuntingpictures.Stuffyitwas.SunlightthroughtheslatsoftheVenetianblind.Thecoroner’ssunlitears,bigandhairy.Bootsgivingevidence.Thoughthewasasleepfirst.Thensawlikeyellowstreaksonhisface.Hadslippeddowntothefootofthebed.Verdict:overdose.Deathbymisadventure.Theletter.FormysonLeopold.
Nomorepain.Wakenomore.Nobodyowns.
ThecarriagerattledswiftlyalongBlessingtonstreet.Overthestones.
—Wearegoingthepace,Ithink,MartinCunninghamsaid.
—Godgranthedoesn’tupsetusontheroad,MrPowersaid.
—Ihopenot,MartinCunninghamsaid.
