Улісс
Chapter 4
BrainsontheirsleevelikethestatueinGlasnevin.BelievehedoessomeliteraryworkfortheExpresswithGabrielConroy.Wellreadfellow.MylesCrawfordbeganontheIndependent.Funnythewaythosenewspapermenveeraboutwhentheygetwindofanewopening.Weathercocks.Hotandcoldinthesamebreath.Wouldn’tknowwhichtobelieve.Onestorygoodtillyouhearthenext.Goforoneanotherbaldheadedinthepapersandthenallblowsover.Hailfellowwellmetthenextmoment.
—Ah,listentothisforGod’sake,NedLambertpleaded.Oragainifwebutclimbtheserriedmountainpeaks...
—Bombast!theprofessorbrokeintestily.Enoughoftheinflatedwindbag!
—Peaks,NedLambertwenton,toweringhighonhigh,tobatheoursouls,asitwere...
—Bathehislips,MrDedalussaid.BlessedandeternalGod!Yes?Ishetakinganythingforit?
—As’twere,inthepeerlesspanoramaofIreland’sportfolio,unmatched,despitetheirwellpraisedprototypesinothervauntedprizeregions,forverybeauty,ofboskygroveandundulatingplainandlusciouspasturelandofvernalgreen,steepedinthetranscendenttranslucentglowofourmildmysteriousIrishtwilight...
HISNATIVEDORIC
—Themoon,professorMacHughsaid.HeforgotHamlet.
—Thatmantlesthevistafarandwideandwaittilltheglowingorbofthemoonshineforthtoirradiatehersilvereffulgence...
—O!MrDedaluscried,givingventtoahopelessgroan.Shiteandonions!That’lldo,Ned.Lifeistooshort.
Hetookoffhissilkhatand,blowingoutimpatientlyhisbushymoustache,welshcombedhishairwithrakingfingers.
