尤利西斯-第156章

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SLEEPY　HOLLOW　Rip　Van　Winkle！　Rip　Van　Winkle！　
BLOOM　（In　tattered　moccasins　with　a　rusty　fowlingpiece；　tip　toeing；　fingertipping；　his　haggard　bony　bearded　face　peering　through　the　diamond　panes；　cries　out。）　I　see　her！　It's　she！　The　first　night　at　Mat　Dillon's！　But　that　dress；　the　green！　And　her　hair　is　dyed　gold　and　he。　
BELLO　（Laughs　mockingly。）　That's　your　daughter；　you　owl；　with　a　Mullingar　student。　
（Milly　Bloom；　fairhaired；　greenvested；　slimsandalled；　her　bluescab　in　the　seawind　simply　swirling；　breaks　from　the　arms　of　her　lover　and　calls；　her　young　eyes　wonderwide。）　
MILLY　My！　It's　Papli！　But。　O　Papli；　how　old　you've　grown！　
BELLO　Changed；　eh？　Our　whatnot；　our　writing　table　where　we　never　wrote；　Aunt　Hegarty's　armchair；　our　classic　reprints　of　old　masters。　A　man　and　his　men　friends　are　living　there　in　clover。　The　Cuckoos'　Rest！　Why　not？　How　many　women　had　you；　say？　Following　them　up　dark　streets；　flatfoot；　exciting　them　by　your　smothered　grunts。　What；　you　male　prostitute？　Blameless　dames　with　parcels　of　groceries。　Turn　about。　Sauce　for　the　goose；　my　gander；　O。　
BLOOM　They。。。　I　
BELLO　（Cuttingly。）　Their　heelmarks　will　stamp　the　Brusselette　carpet　you　bought　at　Wren's　auction。　In　their　horseplay　with　Moll　the　romp　to　find　the　buck　flea　in　her　breeches　they　will　deface　the　little　statue　you　carried　home　in　the　rain　for　art　for　art's　sake。　They　will　violate　the　secrets　of　your　bottom　drawer。　Pages　will　be　torn　from　your　handbook　of　astronomy　to　make　them　pipespills。　And　they　will　spit　in　your　ten　shilling　brass　fender　from　Hampton　Leedom's。　
BLOOM　Ten　and　six。　The　act　of　low　scoundrels。　Let　me　go。　I　will　return。　I　will　prove。。。　
A　VOICE　Swear！　
（Bloom　clenches　his　fists　and　crawls　forward；　a　bowie　knife　between　his　teeth。）　
BELLO　As　a　paying　guest　or　a　kept　man？　Too　late。　You　have　made　your　secondbest　bed　and　others　must　lie　in　it。　Your　epitaph　is　written。　You　are　down　and　out　and　don't　you　forget　it；　old　bean。　
BLOOM　Justice！　All　Ireland　versus　one！　Has　nobody。。。　？　
（He　bites　his　thumb。）　
BELLO　Die　and　be　damned　to　you　if　you　have　any　sense　of　decency　or　grace　about　you。　I　can　give　you　a　rare　old　wine　that'll　send　you　skipping　to　hell　and　back。　Sign　a　will　and　leave　us　any　coin　you　have。　If　you　have　none　see　you　damn　well　get　it；　steal　it；　rob　it！　We'll　bury　you　in　our　shrubbery　jakes　where　you'll　be　dead　and　dirty　with　old　Cuck　Cohen；　my　stepnephew　I　married；　the　bloody　old　gouty　procurator　and　sodomite　with　a　crick　in　his　neck；　and　my　other　ten　or　eleven　husbands；　what　ever　the　buggers'　names　were；　suffocated　in　the　one　cess　pool。　（He　explodes　in　a　loud　phlegmy　laugh。）　We'll　manure　you；　Mr　Flower！　（He　pipes　scoffingly。）　Byby；　Poldy！　Byby；　Papli！　
BLOOM　（Clasps　his　head。）　My　will　power！　Memory！　I　have　sinned！　I　have　suff。。。　（He　weeps　tearlessly。）　
BELLO　（Sneers。）　Crybabby！　Crocodile　tears！　
（Bloom；　broken；　closely　veiled　for　the　sacrifice；　sobs；　his　face　to　the　earth。　The　passing　bell　is　heard。　Darkshawled　figures　of　the　circumcised；　in　sackcloth　and　ashes；　stand　by　the　wailing　wall。　M。　Shulomowitz；　Joseph　Goldwater　Moses　Herzog；　Harris　Rosenberg；　M。　Moisel；　J。　Citron；　Minnie　Watchman；　0。　Mastiansky；　the　Reverend　Leopold　Abramovitz；　Chazen。　With　swaying　arms　they　wail　in　pneuma　over　the　recreant　Bloom。）　
THE　CIRCUMCISED　（In　a　dark　guttural　chant　as　they　cast　dead　sea　fruit　upon　him；　no　flowers。）　Shema　Israel　Adonai　Elohenu　Adonai　Echad。　
VOICES　（Sighing。）　So　he's　gone。　Ah；　yes。　Yes；　indeed。　Bloom？　Never　heard　of　him。　No？　Queer　kind　of　chap。　There's　the　widow。　That　so？　Ah；　yes。　
（From　the　suttee　pyre　the　flame　of　gum　camphire　ascends。　The　pall　of　incense　smoke　screens　and　disperses。　Out　of　her　oak　frame　a　nymph　with　hair　unbound；　lightly　clad　in　teabrown　art　colours；　descends　from　her　grotto　and　passing　under　interlacing　yews；　stands　over　Bloom。）　
THE　YEWS　（Their　leaves　whispering。）　Sister。　Our　sister。　Ssh。　
THE　NYMPH　（Softly。）　Mortal！　（Kindly。）　Nay；　dost　not　weepest！　
BLOOM　（Crawls　jellily　forward　under　the　boughs；　streaked　by　sunlight；　with　dignity。）　This　position。　I　felt　it　was　expected　of　me。　Force　of　habit。　
THE　NYMPH　Mortal！　You　found　me　in　evil　pany；　high　kickers；　coster　picnic　makers；　pugilists；　popular　generals；　immoral　panto　boys　in　flesh　tights　and　the　nifty　shimmy　dancers；　La　Aurora　and　Karini；　musical　act；　the　hit　of　the　century。　I　was　hidden　in　cheap　pink　paper　that　smelt　of　rock　oil。　I　was　surrounded　by　the　stale　smut　of　clubmen；　stories　to　disturb　callow　youth；　ads　for　transparencies；　truedup　dice　and　bustpads；　proprietary　articles　and　why　wear　a　truss　with　testimonial　from　ruptured　gentleman。　Useful　hints　to　the　married。　
BLOOM　（Lifts　a　turtle　head　towards　her　lap。）　We　have　met　before。　On　another　star。　
THE　NYMPH　（Sadly。）　Rubber　goods。　Neverrip。　Brand　as　sup　plied　to　the　aristocracy。　Corsets　for　men。　I　cure　fits　or　money　refunded。　Unsolicited　testimonials　for　Professor　Waldmann's　wonderful　chest　exuber。　My　bust　developed　four　inches　in　three　weeks；　reports　Mrs　Gus　Rublin　with　photo。　
BLOOM　You　mean　Photo　Bits？　
THE　NYMPH　I　do。　You　bore　me　away；　framed　me　in　oak　and　tinsel；　set　me　above　your　marriage　couch。　Unseen；　one　summer　eve；　you　kissed　me　in　four　places。　And　with　loving　pencil　you　shaded　my　eyes；　my　bosom　and　my　shame。　
BLOOM　（Humbly　kisses　her　long　hair。）　Your　classic　curves；　beautiful　immortal。　I　was　glad　to　look　on　you；　to　praise　you；　a　thing　of　beauty；　almost　to　pray。　
THE　NYMPH　During　dark　nights　I　heard　your　praise。　
BLOOM　（Quickly。）　Yes；　yes。　You　mean　that　I。。。　Sleep　reveals　the　worst　side　of　everyone；　children　perhaps　excepted。　I　know　I　fell　out　of　my　bed　or　rather　was　pushed。　Steel　wine　is　said　to　cure　snoring。　For　the　rest　there　is　that　English　invention；　pamphlet　of　which　I　received　some　days　ago；　incorrectly　addressed。　It　claims　to　afford　a　noiseless　inoffensive　vent。　（He　sighs。）　'Twas　ever　thus。　Frailty；　thy　name　is　marriage。　
THE　NYMPH　（Her　fingers　in　her　ears。）　And　words。　They　are　not　in　my　dictionary。　
BLOOM　You　understood　them？　
THE　YEWS　Ssh。　
THE　NYMPH　（Covers　her　face　with　her　hand。）　What　have　I　not　seen　in　that　chamber？　What　must　my　eyes　look　down　on？　
BLOOM　（Apologetically。）　I　know。　Soiled　personal　linen；　wrong　side　up　with　care。　The　quoits　are　loose。　From　Gibraltar　by　long　sea；　long　ago。　
THE　NYMPH　（Bends　her　head。）　Worse！　Worse！　
BLOOM　（Reflects　precautiously。）　That　antiquated　mode。　It　wasn't　her　weight。　She　scaled　just　eleven　stone　nine。　She　put　on　nine　pounds　after　weaning。　It　was　a　crack　and　want　of　glue。　Eh？　And　that　absurd　orangekeyed　utensil　which　has　only　one　handle。　
（The　sound　of　a　waterfall　is　heard　in　bright　cascade。）　
THE　WATERFALL　
Poulaphouca　Poulaphouca　
Poulaphouca　Poulaphouca。
THE　YEWS　（Mingling　their　boughs。）　Listen。　Whisper。　She　is　right；　our　sister。　We　grew　by　Poulaphouca　waterfall。　We　gave　shade　on　languorous　summer　days。　
JOHN　WYSE　NOLAN　（In　the　background；　in　Irish　National　For　ester's　uniform；　doffs　his　plumed　hat。）　Prosper！　Give　shade　on　languorous　days；　trees　of　Ireland！　
THE　YEWS　（Murmuring。）　Who　came　to　Poulaphouca　with　the　high　school　excursion？　Who　left　his　nutquesting　classmates　to　seek　our　shade？　
BLOOM　（Pigeonbreasted；　bottleshouldered；　padded；　in　nondescript　juvenile　grey　and　black　striped　suit；　too　small　for　him；　white　tennis　shoes；　bordered　stockings　with　turnover　tops；　and　a　red　school　cap　with　badge。）　I　was　in　my　teens；　a　growing　boy。　A　little　then　sufficed；　a　jolting　car；　the　mingling　odours　of　the　ladies'　cloakroom　and　lavatory；　the　throng　penned　tight　on　the　old　Royal　stairs；　for　they　love　crushes；　instincts　of　the　herd；　and　the　dark　sexsmelling　theatre　unbridles　vice。　Even　a　pricelist　of　their　hosiery。　And　then　the　heat。　There　were　sunspots　that　summer。　End　of　school。　And　tipsycake。　Halcyon　days。　
（Halcyon　Days；　high　school　boys　in　blue　and　white　football　jerseys　and　shorts；　Master　Donald　Turnbull；　Master　Abraham　Chatterton；　Master　Owen　Goldberg；　Master　Jack　Meredith；　Master　Percy　Apjohn；　stand　in　a　clearing　of　the　trees　and　shout　to　Master　Leopold　Bloom。）　
THE　HALCYON　DAYS　Mackerel！　Live　us　again。　Hurray！　
（They　cheer。）　
BLOOM　（Hobbledehoy；　warmgloved；　mammamufflered；　stunned　with　spent　snowballs；　struggles　to　rise。）　Again！　I　feel　sixteen！　What　a　lark！　Let's　ring　all　the　bells　in　Montague　Street。