Ulysses

epub:type="z3998:persona">Bloom Blows. Providential you came on the scene. You have a car?⁠ ⁠… Corny Kelleher Laughs, pointing his thumb over his right shoulder to the car brought up against the scaffolding. Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet’s. Like princes, faith. One of them lost two quid on the race. Drowning his grief and were on for a go with the jolly girls. So I landed them up on Behan’s car and down to nighttown. Bloom I was just going home by Gardiner street when I happened to⁠ ⁠… Corny Kelleher Laughs. Sure they wanted me to join in with the mots. No, by God, says I. Not for old stagers like myself and yourself. He laughs again and leers with lacklustre eye. Thanks be to God we have it in the house what, eh, do you follow me? Hah! hah! hah! Bloom Tries to laugh. He, he, he! Yes. Matter of fact I was just visiting an old friend of mine there, Virag, you don’t know him (poor fellow he’s laid up for the past week) and we had a liquor together and I was just making my way home⁠ ⁠… The horse neighs. The Horse Hohohohohohoh! Hohohohome! Corny Kelleher Sure it was Behan, our jarvey there, that told me after we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen’s and I told him to pull up and got off to see. He laughs. Sober hearsedrivers a specialty. Will I give him a lift home? Where does he hang out? Somewhere in Cabra, what? Bloom No, in Sandycove, I believe, from what he let drop. Stephen, prone, breathes to the stars. Corny Kelleher, asquint, drawls at the horse. Bloom in gloom, looms down. Corny Kelleher Scratches his nape. Sandycove! He bends down and calls to Stephen. Eh! He calls again. Eh! He’s covered with shavings anyhow. Take care they didn’t lift anything off him. Bloom No, no, no. I have his money and his hat here and stick. Corny Kelleher Ah well, he’ll get over it. No bones broken. Well, I’ll shove along. He laughs. I’ve a rendezvous in the morning. Burying the dead. Safe home! The Horse Neighs. Hohohohohome. Bloom Good night. I’ll just wait and take him along in a few⁠ ⁠… Corny Kelleher returns to the outside car and mounts it. The horse harness jingles. Corny Kelleher From the car, standing. Night. Bloom Night. The jarvey chucks the reins and raises his whip encouragingly. The car and horse back slowly, awkwardly and turn. Corny Kelleher on the sideseat sways his head to and fro in sign of mirth at Bloom’s plight. The jarvey joins in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the farther seat. Bloom shakes his head in mute mirthful reply. With thumb and palm Corny Kelleher reassures that the two bobbies will allow the sleep to continue for what else is to be done. With a slow nod Bloom conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. The car jingles tooraloom round the corner of the tooraloom lane. Corny Kelleher again reassuralooms with his hand. Bloom with his hand assuralooms Corny Kelleher that he is reassuraloomtay. The tinkling hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their tooralooloo looloo lay. Bloom, holding in his hand Stephen’s hat festooned with shavings and ashplant, stands irresolute. Then he bends to him and shakes him by the shoulder. Bloom Eh! Ho! There is no answer; he bends again. Mr Dedalus! There is no answer. The name if you call. Somnambulist. He bends again and, hesitating, brings his mouth near the face of the prostrate form. Stephen! There is no answer. He calls again. Stephen! Stephen

Groans. Who? Black panther vampire. He sighs and stretches himself, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels.

Who⁠ ⁠… drive⁠ ⁠… Fergus now.
And pierce⁠ ⁠… wood’s woven shade?⁠ ⁠…

He turns on his left side, sighing, doubling himself together. Bloom Poetry. Well educated. Pity. He bends again and undoes the buttons of Stephen’s waistcoat. To breathe. He brushes the woodshavings from Stephen’s clothes with light hands and fingers. One pound seven. Not hurt anyhow. He listens. What! Stephen

Murmurs.

… shadows⁠ ⁠… the woods.
… white breast⁠ ⁠… dim⁠ ⁠…

He stretches out his arms, sighs again and curls his body. Bloom holding his hat and ashplant stands erect. A dog barks in the distance. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the ashplant. He looks down on Stephen’s face and form. Bloom Communes with the night. Face reminds me of his poor mother. In the shady wood. The deep white breast. Ferguson, I think I caught. A girl. Some girl. Best thing could happen him⁠ ⁠… He murmurs.⁠ ⁠… swear that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any part or parts, art or arts⁠ ⁠… He murmurs.⁠ ⁠… in the rough sands of the sea⁠ ⁠… a cabletow’s length from the shore⁠ ⁠… where the tide ebbs⁠ ⁠… and flows⁠ ⁠… Silent, thoughtful, alert, he stands on guard, his fingers at his lips in the attitude of secret master. Against the dark wall a figure appears slowly, a fairy boy of eleven, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in an Eton suit with glass shoes and a little bronze helmet, holding a book in his hand. He reads from right to left inaudibly, smiling, kissing the page. Bloom Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly. Rudy! Rudy Gazes unseeing into Bloom’s eyes and goes on reading, kissing, smiling. He has a delicate mauve face. On his suit he has diamond and ruby buttons. In his free left hand he holds a slim ivory cane with a violet bowknot. A white lambskin peeps out of his waistcoat pocket.

III

Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion, which he very badly needed. His (Stephen’s) mind was not exactly what you