u13_nausica.xml

<div type="episode" n="13">
<p><lb n="130001"/>The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious
<lb n="130002"/>embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all
<lb n="130003"/>too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strand, on the proud
<lb n="130004"/>promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters of the bay, on
<lb n="130005"/>the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, last but not least, on
<lb n="130006"/>the quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the stillness the
<lb n="130007"/>voice of prayer to her who is in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the
  <lb n="130008"/><distinct type="compound">stormtossed</distinct> heart of man, Mary, star of the sea.</p>
<p><lb n="130009"/>The three girl friends were seated on the rocks, enjoying the evening
<lb n="130010"/>scene and the air which was fresh but not too chilly. Many a time and oft
<lb n="130011"/>were they wont to come there to that favourite nook to have a cosy chat
<lb n="130012"/>beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy Caffrey and
  <lb n="130013"/>Edy Boardman with the baby in the <distinct type="dialect">pushcar</distinct> and Tommy and Jacky
  <lb n="130014"/>Caffrey, two little <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">curlyheaded</distinct> boys, dressed in sailor suits with caps to
<lb n="130015"/>match and the name <name type="ship">H. M. S. Belleisle</name> printed on both. For Tommy and
<lb n="130016"/>Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled
<lb n="130017"/>twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces
<lb n="130018"/>and endearing ways about them. They were dabbling in the sand with their
<lb n="130019"/>spades and buckets, building castles as children do, or playing with their big
<lb n="130020"/>coloured ball, happy as the day was long. And Edy Boardman was rocking
  <lb n="130021"/>the chubby baby to and fro in the <distinct type="dialect">pushcar</distinct> while that young gentleman
<lb n="130022"/>fairly chuckled with delight. He was but eleven months and nine days old
<lb n="130023"/>and, though still a tiny toddler, was just beginning to lisp his first babyish
<lb n="130024"/>words. Cissy Caffrey bent over to him to tease his fat little plucks and the
<lb n="130025"/>dainty dimple in his chin.
<lb n="130026"/><said who="ccaff">―Now, baby,</said> Cissy Caffrey said. <said who="ccaff">Say out big, big. I want a drink of water.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130027"/>And baby prattled after her:
<lb n="130028"/><said who="bb">―A jink a jink a jawbo.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130029"/>Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was awfully fond of
<lb n="130030"/>children, so patient with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey could never be
<lb n="130031"/>got to take his castor oil unless it was Cissy Caffrey that held his nose and
  <lb n="130032"/>promised him the <distinct type="dialect">scatty</distinct> heel of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup
<lb n="130033"/>on. What a persuasive power that girl had! But to be sure baby Boardman
<lb n="130034"/>was as good as gold, a perfect little dote in his new fancy bib. None of your
<lb n="130035"/>spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, was Cissy Caffrey. A <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">truerhearted</distinct>
<lb n="130036"/>lass never drew the breath of life, always with a laugh in her <distinct type="compound">gipsylike</distinct> eyes
<lb n="130037"/>and a frolicsome word on her <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">cherryripe</distinct> red lips, a girl lovable in the
<lb n="130038"/>extreme. And Edy Boardman laughed too at the quaint language of little
<lb n="130039"/>brother.</p>
<p><lb n="130040"/>But just then there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy
<lb n="130041"/>and Master Jacky. Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception
<lb n="130042"/>to this golden rule. The apple of discord was a certain castle of sand which
<lb n="130043"/>Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy would have it right go wrong
<lb n="130044"/>that it was to be architecturally improved by a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">frontdoor</distinct> like the Martello
<lb n="130045"/>tower had. But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was
  <lb n="130046"/><distinct type="compound">selfwilled</distinct> too and, true to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his
<lb n="130047"/>castle, he fell upon his hated rival and to such purpose that the <distinct type="compound">wouldbe</distinct>
<lb n="130048"/>assailant came to grief and (alas to relate!) the coveted castle too. Needless
<lb n="130049"/>to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy drew the attention of the girl
<lb n="130050"/>friends.
<lb n="130051"/><said who="ccaff">―Come here, Tommy,</said> his sister called imperatively. <said who="ccaff">At once! And you,
<lb n="130052"/>Jacky, for shame to throw poor Tommy in the dirty sand. Wait till I catch
<lb n="130053"/>you for that.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130054"/>His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy came at her call for
<lb n="130055"/>their big sister's word was law with the twins. And in a sad plight he was
<lb n="130056"/>too after his misadventure. His little man-o'-war top and unmentionables
<lb n="130057"/>were full of sand but Cissy was a past mistress in the art of smoothing over
<lb n="130058"/>life's tiny troubles and very quickly not one speck of sand was to be seen on
<lb n="130059"/>his smart little suit. Still the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that
<lb n="130060"/>would well up so she kissed away the hurtness and shook her hand at
<lb n="130061"/>Master Jacky the culprit and said if she was near him she wouldn't be far
<lb n="130062"/>from him, her eyes dancing in admonition.
<lb n="130063"/><said who="ccaff">―Nasty bold Jacky!</said> she cried.</p>
<p><lb n="130064"/>She put an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly:
<lb n="130065"/><said who="ccaff">―What's your name? Butter and cream?</said>
<lb n="130066"/><said who="edb">―Tell us who is your sweetheart,</said> spoke Edy Boardman. <said who="edb">Is Cissy your
<lb n="130067"/>sweetheart?</said>
<lb n="130068"/><said who="tcaff">―Nao,</said> tearful Tommy said.
<lb n="130069"/><said who="ccaff">―Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart?</said> Cissy queried.
<lb n="130070"/><said who="tcaff">―Nao,</said> Tommy said.
<lb n="130071"/><said who="edb">―I know,</said> Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an arch glance from
<lb n="130072"/>her shortsighted eyes. <said who="edb">I know who is Tommy's sweetheart. Gerty is
<lb n="130073"/>Tommy's sweetheart.</said>
<lb n="130074"/><said who="tcaff">―Nao,</said> Tommy said on the verge of tears.</p>
  <p><lb n="130075"/>Cissy's quick <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">motherwit</distinct> guessed what was amiss and she whispered
<lb n="130076"/>to Edy Boardman to take him there behind the <distinct type="dialect">pushcar</distinct> where the
<lb n="130077"/>gentleman couldn't see and to mind he didn't wet his new tan shoes.</p>
<p><lb n="130078"/>But who was Gerty?</p>
<p><lb n="130079"/>Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companions, lost in
<lb n="130080"/>thought, gazing far away into the distance was, in very truth, as fair a
<lb n="130081"/>specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. She was
<lb n="130082"/>pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as folks often said, she
<lb n="130083"/>was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Her figure was slight and graceful,
<lb n="130084"/>inclining even to fragility but those iron <distinct type="archaism">jelloids</distinct> she had been taking of late
<lb n="130085"/>had done her a world of good much better than the Widow Welch's female
<lb n="130086"/>pills and she was much better of those discharges she used to get and that
<lb n="130087"/>tired feeling. The waxen pallor of her face was almost spiritual in its
  <lb n="130088"/><distinct type="compound">ivorylike</distinct> purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine Cupid's bow,
<lb n="130089"/>Greekly perfect. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering
  <lb n="130090"/>fingers and as white as <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">lemonjuice</distinct> and queen of ointments could make them
<lb n="130091"/>though it was not true that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk
<lb n="130092"/>footbath either. Bertha Supple told that once to Edy Boardman, a deliberate
<lb n="130093"/>lie, when she was black out at daggers drawn with Gerty (the girl chums
<lb n="130094"/>had of course their little tiffs from time to time like the rest of mortals) and
<lb n="130095"/>she told her not to let on whatever she did that it was her that told her or
<lb n="130096"/>she'd never speak to her again. No. Honour where honour is due. There
<lb n="130097"/>was an innate refinement, a languid queenly <foreign xml:lang="fr">hauteur</foreign> about Gerty which
<lb n="130098"/>was unmistakably evidenced in her delicate hands and <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">higharched</distinct> instep.
<lb n="130099"/>Had kind fate but willed her to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in
<lb n="130100"/>her own right and had she only received the benefit of a good education
<lb n="130101"/>Gerty MacDowell might easily have held her own beside any lady in the
<lb n="130102"/>land and have seen herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her brow and
<lb n="130103"/>patrician suitors at her feet vying with one another to pay their devoirs to
<lb n="130104"/>her. Mayhap it was this, the love that might have been, that lent to her
  <lb n="130105"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">softlyfeatured</distinct> face at whiles a look, tense with suppressed meaning, that
<lb n="130106"/>imparted a strange yearning tendency to the beautiful eyes, a charm few
<lb n="130107"/>could resist. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Gerty's were of the
<lb n="130108"/>bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. Time
<lb n="130109"/>was when those brows were not so silkily seductive. It was Madame Vera
<lb n="130110"/>Verity, directress of the Woman Beautiful page of the Princess Novelette,
<lb n="130111"/>who had first advised her to try eyebrowleine which gave that haunting
<lb n="130112"/>expression to the eyes, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and she had never
<lb n="130113"/>regretted it. Then there was blushing scientifically cured and how to be tall
<lb n="130114"/>increase your height and you have a beautiful face but your nose? That
<lb n="130115"/>would suit Mrs Dignam because she had a button one. But Gerty's
<lb n="130116"/>crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. It was dark brown with a
<lb n="130117"/>natural wave in it. She had cut it that very morning on account of the new
<lb n="130118"/>moon and it nestled about her pretty head in a profusion of luxuriant
<lb n="130119"/>clusters and pared her nails too, Thursday for wealth. And just now at
<lb n="130120"/>Edy's words as a telltale flush, delicate as the faintest <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">rosebloom</distinct>, crept into
<lb n="130121"/>her cheeks she looked so lovely in her sweet girlish shyness that of a surety
<lb n="130122"/>God's fair land of Ireland did not hold her equal.</p>
<p><lb n="130123"/>For an instant she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. She was
<lb n="130124"/>about to retort but something checked the words on her tongue. Inclination
<lb n="130125"/>prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent. The pretty lips
<lb n="130126"/>pouted awhile but then she glanced up and broke out into a joyous little
<lb n="130127"/>laugh which had in it all the freshness of a young May morning. She knew
<lb n="130128"/>right well, no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that because of him
<lb n="130129"/>cooling in his attentions when it was simply a lovers' quarrel. As per usual
<lb n="130130"/>somebody's nose was out of joint about the boy that had the bicycle off the
<lb n="130131"/>London bridge road always riding up and down in front of her window.
<lb n="130132"/>Only now his father kept him in in the evenings studying hard to get an
<lb n="130133"/>exhibition in the intermediate that was on and he was going to go to Trinity
<lb n="130134"/>college to study for a doctor when he left the high school like his brother
<lb n="130135"/>W. E. Wylie who was racing in the bicycle races in Trinity college
  <lb n="130136"/>university. Little <distinct type="archaism">recked</distinct> he perhaps for what she felt, that dull aching void
<lb n="130137"/>in her heart sometimes, piercing to the core. Yet he was young and
<lb n="130138"/>perchance he might learn to love her in time. They were protestants in his
<lb n="130139"/>family and of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed
<lb n="130140"/>Virgin and then Saint Joseph. But he was undeniably handsome with an
<lb n="130141"/>exquisite nose and he was what he looked, every inch a gentleman, the
<lb n="130142"/>shape of his head too at the back without his cap on that she would know
<lb n="130143"/>anywhere something off the common and the way he turned the bicycle at
<lb n="130144"/>the lamp with his hands off the bars and also the nice perfume of those good
<lb n="130145"/>cigarettes and besides they were both of a size too he and she and that was
<lb n="130146"/>why Edy Boardman thought she was so frightfully clever because he didn't
<lb n="130147"/>go and ride up and down in front of her bit of a garden.</p>
<p><lb n="130148"/>Gerty was dressed simply but with the instinctive taste of a votary of
<lb n="130149"/>Dame Fashion for she felt that there was just a might that he might be out.
<lb n="130150"/>A neat blouse of electric blue <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">selftinted</distinct> by dolly dyes (because it was
<lb n="130151"/>expected in the <title type="magazine">Lady's Pictorial</title> that electric blue would be worn) with a
<lb n="130152"/>smart vee opening down to the division and kerchief pocket (in which she
  <lb n="130153"/>always kept a piece of <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">cottonwool</distinct> scented with her favourite perfume
<lb n="130154"/>because the handkerchief spoiled the sit) and a navy <distinct type="compound">threequarter</distinct> skirt cut
<lb n="130155"/>to the stride showed off her slim graceful figure to perfection. She wore a
  <lb n="130156"/>coquettish little love of a hat of <distinct type="compound">wideleaved</distinct> nigger straw contrast trimmed
  <lb n="130157"/>with an <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">underbrim</distinct> of <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">eggblue</distinct> chenille and at the side a butterfly bow of silk
<lb n="130158"/>to tone. All Tuesday week afternoon she was hunting to match that chenille
<lb n="130159"/>but at last she found what she wanted at Clery's summer sales, the very it,
  <lb n="130160"/>slightly <distinct type="compound">shopsoiled</distinct> but you would never notice, seven fingers two and a
<lb n="130161"/>penny. She did it up all by herself and what joy was hers when she tried it
<lb n="130162"/>on then, smiling at the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to her!
  <lb n="130163"/>And when she put it on the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">waterjug</distinct> to keep the shape she knew that that
<lb n="130164"/>would take the shine out of some people she knew. Her shoes were the
<lb n="130165"/>newest thing in footwear (Edy Boardman prided herself that she was very
<lb n="130166"/><foreign xml:lang="fr">petite</foreign> but she never had a foot like Gerty MacDowell, a five, and never
<lb n="130167"/>would ash, oak or elm) with patent toecaps and just one smart buckle over
  <lb n="130168"/>her <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">higharched</distinct> instep. Her <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">wellturned</distinct> ankle displayed its perfect
<lb n="130169"/>proportions beneath her skirt and just the proper amount and no more of
  <lb n="130170"/>her shapely limbs encased in <distinct type="compound">finespun</distinct> hose with <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">highspliced</distinct> heels and wide
<lb n="130171"/>garter tops. As for undies they were Gerty's chief care and who that knows
<lb n="130172"/>the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen (though Gerty would never
<lb n="130173"/>see seventeen again) can find it in his heart to blame her? She had four
<lb n="130174"/>dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three garments and nighties extra,
<lb n="130175"/>and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">rosepink</distinct>, pale blue,
  <lb n="130176"/>mauve and <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">peagreen</distinct>, and she aired them herself and blued them when they
<lb n="130177"/>came home from the wash and ironed them and she had a brickbat to keep
<lb n="130178"/>the iron on because she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as she'd
<lb n="130179"/>see them scorching the things. She was wearing the blue for luck, hoping
<lb n="130180"/>against hope, her own colour and lucky too for a bride to have a bit of blue
<lb n="130181"/>somewhere on her because the green she wore that day week brought grief
<lb n="130182"/>because his father brought him in to study for the intermediate exhibition
<lb n="130183"/>and because she thought perhaps he might be out because when she was
<lb n="130184"/>dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the old pair on her inside out
<lb n="130185"/>and that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you put those things on inside
<lb n="130186"/>out or if they got untied that he was thinking about you so long as it wasn't
<lb n="130187"/>of a Friday.</p>
<p><lb n="130188"/>And yet – and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow
<lb n="130189"/>is there all the time. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give worlds
<lb n="130190"/>to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber where, giving way to tears,
<lb n="130191"/>she could have a good cry and relieve her <distinct type="compound">pentup</distinct> feelings though not too
<lb n="130192"/>much because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror. You are lovely,
<lb n="130193"/>Gerty, it said. The paly light of evening falls upon a face infinitely sad and
<lb n="130194"/>wistful. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Yes, she had known from the very
<lb n="130195"/>first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the
  <lb n="130196"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">weddingbells</distinct> ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie T. C. D. (because the one who
<lb n="130197"/>married the elder brother would be Mrs Wylie) and in the fashionable
<lb n="130198"/>intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing a sumptuous confection of
<lb n="130199"/>grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not to be. He was too young to
<lb n="130200"/>understand. He would not believe in love, a woman's birthright. The night
<lb n="130201"/>of the party long ago in Stoer's (he was still in short trousers) when they
<lb n="130202"/>were alone and he stole an arm round her waist she went white to the very
<lb n="130203"/>lips. He called her little one in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half
<lb n="130204"/>kiss (the first!) but it was only the end of her nose and then he hastened
<lb n="130205"/>from the room with a remark about refreshments. Impetuous fellow!
<lb n="130206"/>Strength of character had never been Reggy Wylie's strong point and he
<lb n="130207"/>who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell must be a man among men. But
<lb n="130208"/>waiting, always waiting to be asked and it was leap year too and would
<lb n="130209"/>soon be over. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and
<lb n="130210"/>wondrous love at her feet but rather a manly man with a strong quiet face
<lb n="130211"/>who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and
<lb n="130212"/>who would understand, take her in his sheltering arms, strain her to him in
<lb n="130213"/>all the strength of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with a long
<lb n="130214"/>long kiss. It would be like heaven. For such a one she yearns this balmy
<lb n="130215"/>summer eve. With all the heart of her she longs to be his only, his affianced
<lb n="130216"/>bride for riches for poor, in sickness in health, till death us two part, from
<lb n="130217"/>this to this day forward.</p>
<p><lb n="130218"/>And while Edy Boardman was with little Tommy behind the <distinct type="dialect">pushcar</distinct>
<lb n="130219"/>she was just thinking would the day ever come when she could call herself
<lb n="130220"/>his little wife to be. Then they could talk about her till they went blue in the
<lb n="130221"/>face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, little spitfire, because she would be
  <lb n="130222"/><distinct type="compound">twentytwo</distinct> in November. She would care for him with creature comforts
<lb n="130223"/>too for Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that
<lb n="130224"/>feeling of hominess. Her griddlecakes done to a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">goldenbrown</distinct> hue and
<lb n="130225"/>queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions
<lb n="130226"/>from all because she had a lucky hand also for lighting a fire, dredge in the
  <lb n="130227"/>fine <distinct type="compound">selfraising</distinct> flour and always stir in the same direction, then cream the
<lb n="130228"/>milk and sugar and whisk well the white of eggs though she didn't like the
<lb n="130229"/>eating part when there were any people that made her shy and often she
<lb n="130230"/>wondered why you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and
<lb n="130231"/>they would have a beautifully appointed <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">drawingroom</distinct> with pictures and
<lb n="130232"/>engravings and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog
<lb n="130233"/>Garryowen that almost talked it was so human and chintz covers for the
  <lb n="130234"/>chairs and that silver <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">toastrack</distinct> in Clery's summer jumble sales like they
<lb n="130235"/>have in rich houses. He would be tall with broad shoulders (she had always
<lb n="130236"/>admired tall men for a husband) with glistening white teeth under his
<lb n="130237"/>carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and they would go on the continent
<lb n="130238"/>for their honeymoon (three wonderful weeks!) and then, when they settled
<lb n="130239"/>down in a nice snug and cosy little homely house, every morning they
  <lb n="130240"/>would both have <distinct type="dialect">brekky</distinct>, simple but perfectly served, for their own two
<lb n="130241"/>selves and before he went out to business he would give his dear little <distinct type="dialect">wifey</distinct>
<lb n="130242"/>a good hearty hug and gaze for a moment deep down into her eyes.</p>
<p><lb n="130243"/>Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey was he done and he said yes so
<lb n="130244"/>then she buttoned up his little knickerbockers for him and told him to run
<lb n="130245"/>off and play with Jacky and to be good now and not to fight. But Tommy
<lb n="130246"/>said he wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby was playing with the
<lb n="130247"/>ball and if he took it there'd be wigs on the green but Tommy said it was his
<lb n="130248"/>ball and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the ground, if you please.
<lb n="130249"/>The temper of him! O, he was a man already was little Tommy Caffrey
  <lb n="130250"/>since he was out of <distinct type="dialect">pinnies</distinct>. Edy told him no, no and to be off now with him
<lb n="130251"/>and she told Cissy Caffrey not to give in to him.
<lb n="130252"/><said who="tcaff">―You're not my sister,</said> naughty Tommy said. <said who="tcaff">It's my ball.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130253"/>But Cissy Caffrey told baby Boardman to look up, look up high at her
<lb n="130254"/>finger and she snatched the ball quickly and threw it along the sand and
<lb n="130255"/>Tommy after it in full career, having won the day.
<lb n="130256"/><said who="ccaff">―Anything for a quiet life,</said> laughed Ciss.</p>
<p><lb n="130257"/>And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make him forget and played
<lb n="130258"/>here's the lord mayor, here's his two horses, here's his gingerbread carriage
  <lb n="130259"/>and here he walks in, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">chinchopper</distinct>, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">chinchopper</distinct>, <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">chinchopper</distinct> chin. But
<lb n="130260"/>Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that from
<lb n="130261"/>everyone always petting him.
<lb n="130262"/><said who="edb">―I'd like to give him something,</said> she said, <said who="edb">so I would, where I won't say.</said>
<lb n="130263"/><said who="ccaff">―On the beeoteetom,</said> laughed Cissy merrily.</p>
<p><lb n="130264"/>Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and crimsoned at the idea of
<lb n="130265"/>Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that out loud she'd be ashamed of her
<lb n="130266"/>life to say, flushing a deep rosy red, and Edy Boardman said she was sure
<lb n="130267"/>the gentleman opposite heard what she said. But not a pin cared Ciss.
<lb n="130268"/><said who="ccaff">―Let him!</said> she said with a pert toss of her head and a piquant tilt of her
<lb n="130269"/>nose. <said who="ccaff">Give it to him too on the same place as quick as I'd look at him.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130270"/>Madcap Ciss with her golliwog curls. You had to laugh at her
<lb n="130271"/>sometimes. For instance when she asked you would you have some more
  <lb n="130272"/>Chinese tea and <distinct type="Joycean">jaspberry ram</distinct> and when she drew the jugs too and the
<lb n="130273"/>men's faces on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she
<lb n="130274"/>wanted to go where you know she said she wanted to run and pay a visit to
<lb n="130275"/>the Miss White. That was just like Cissycums. O, and will you ever forget
<lb n="130276"/>her the evening she dressed up in her father's suit and hat and the burned
<lb n="130277"/>cork moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette.
<lb n="130278"/>There was none to come up to her for fun. But she was sincerity itself, one
<lb n="130279"/>of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made, not one of your twofaced
<lb n="130280"/>things, too sweet to be wholesome.</p>
<p><lb n="130281"/>And then there came out upon the air the sound of voices and the
<lb n="130282"/>pealing anthem of the organ. It was the men's temperance retreat conducted
<lb n="130283"/>by the missioner, the reverend John Hughes S. J., rosary, sermon and
<lb n="130284"/>benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament. They were there gathered
<lb n="130285"/>together without distinction of social class (and a most edifying spectacle it
<lb n="130286"/>was to see) in that simple fane beside the waves, after the storms of this
<lb n="130287"/>weary world, kneeling before the feet of the immaculate, reciting the litany
<lb n="130288"/>of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to intercede for them, the old
<lb n="130289"/>familiar words, holy Mary, holy virgin of virgins. How sad to poor Gerty's
<lb n="130290"/>ears! Had her father only avoided the clutches of the demon drink, by
<lb n="130291"/>taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's
<lb n="130292"/>Weekly, she might now be rolling in her carriage, second to none. Over and
<lb n="130293"/>over had she told herself that as she mused by the dying embers in a brown
<lb n="130294"/>study without the lamp because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing
<lb n="130295"/>out of the window dreamily by the hour at the rain falling on the rusty
<lb n="130296"/>bucket, thinking. But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths
<lb n="130297"/>and homes had cast its shadow over her childhood days. Nay, she had even
<lb n="130298"/>witnessed in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and
<lb n="130299"/>had seen her own father, a prey to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself
<lb n="130300"/>completely for if there was one thing of all things that Gerty knew it was
<lb n="130301"/>that the man who lifts his hand to a woman save in the way of kindness,
<lb n="130302"/>deserves to be branded as the lowest of the low.</p>
<p><lb n="130303"/>And still the voices sang in supplication to the Virgin most powerful,
<lb n="130304"/>Virgin most merciful. And Gerty, rapt in thought, scarce saw or heard her
<lb n="130305"/>companions or the twins at their boyish gambols or the gentleman off
<lb n="130306"/>Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey called the man that was so like
<lb n="130307"/>himself passing along the strand taking a short walk. You never saw him
<lb n="130308"/>any way screwed but still and for all that she would not like him for a father
<lb n="130309"/>because he was too old or something or on account of his face (it was a
<lb n="130310"/>palpable case of Doctor Fell) or his carbuncly nose with the pimples on it
<lb n="130311"/>and his sandy moustache a bit white under his nose. Poor father! With all
<lb n="130312"/>his faults she loved him still when he sang <title type="song">Tell me, Mary, how to woo thee</title>
<lb n="130313"/>or <emph>My love and cottage near Rochelle</emph> and they had stewed cockles and
<lb n="130314"/>lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when he sang <emph>The
<lb n="130315"/>moon hath raised</emph> with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God
<lb n="130316"/>have mercy on him, from a stroke. Her mother's birthday that was and
<lb n="130317"/>Charley was home on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam and Mrs and
<lb n="130318"/>Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they were to have had a group taken.
<lb n="130319"/>No-one would have thought the end was so near. Now he was laid to rest.
<lb n="130320"/>And her mother said to him to let that be a warning to him for the rest of his
<lb n="130321"/>days and he couldn't even go to the funeral on account of the gout and she
<lb n="130322"/>had to go into town to bring him the letters and samples from his office
  <lb n="130323"/>about Catesby's cork <distinct type="dialect">lino</distinct>, artistic, standard designs, fit for a palace, gives
<lb n="130324"/>tiptop wear and always bright and cheery in the home.</p>
<p><lb n="130325"/>A sterling good daughter was Gerty just like a second mother in the
<lb n="130326"/>house, a ministering angel too with a little heart worth its weight in gold.
<lb n="130327"/>And when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was it
<lb n="130328"/>rubbed the menthol cone on her forehead but Gerty though she didn't like
<lb n="130329"/>her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that was the only single thing they
<lb n="130330"/>ever had words about, taking snuff. Everyone thought the world of her for
<lb n="130331"/>her gentle ways. It was Gerty who turned off the gas at the main every night
<lb n="130332"/>and it was Gerty who tacked up on the wall of that place where she never
<lb n="130333"/>forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's
<lb n="130334"/>christmas almanac, the picture of halcyon days where a young gentleman in
<lb n="130335"/>the costume they used to wear then with a <distinct type="compound">threecornered</distinct> hat was offering a
  <lb n="130336"/>bunch of flowers to his <distinct type="compound">ladylove</distinct> with <distinct type="compound">oldtime</distinct> chivalry through her lattice
<lb n="130337"/>window. You could see there was a story behind it. The colours were done
<lb n="130338"/>something lovely. She was in a soft clinging white in a studied attitude and
<lb n="130339"/>the gentleman was in chocolate and he looked a thorough aristocrat. She
<lb n="130340"/>often looked at them dreamily when she went there for a certain purpose
<lb n="130341"/>and felt her own arms that were white and soft just like hers with the sleeves
<lb n="130342"/>back and thought about those times because she had found out in Walker's
<lb n="130343"/>pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the
<lb n="130344"/>halcyon days what they meant.</p>
<p><lb n="130345"/>The twins were now playing in the most approved brotherly fashion
<lb n="130346"/>till at last Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was no getting
<lb n="130347"/>behind that deliberately kicked the ball as hard as ever he could down
<lb n="130348"/>towards the seaweedy rocks. Needless to say poor Tommy was not slow to
<lb n="130349"/>voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman in black who was sitting there by
<lb n="130350"/>himself came gallantly to the rescue and intercepted the ball. Our two
<lb n="130351"/>champions claimed their plaything with lusty cries and to avoid trouble
<lb n="130352"/>Cissy Caffrey called to the gentleman to throw it to her please. The
<lb n="130353"/>gentleman aimed the ball once or twice and then threw it up the strand
<lb n="130354"/>towards Cissy Caffrey but it rolled down the slope and stopped right under
<lb n="130355"/>Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the rock. The twins clamoured again for
<lb n="130356"/>it and Cissy told her to kick it away and let them fight for it so Gerty drew
<lb n="130357"/>back her foot but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to
<lb n="130358"/>her and she gave a kick but she missed and Edy and Cissy laughed.
<lb n="130359"/><said who="edb">―If you fail try again,</said> Edy Boardman said.</p>
<p><lb n="130360"/>Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. A delicate pink crept into her
<lb n="130361"/>pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted her
<lb n="130362"/>skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball a jolly
<lb n="130363"/>good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it down towards
<lb n="130364"/>the shingle. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to draw attention on
<lb n="130365"/>account of the gentleman opposite looking. She felt the warm flush, a
<lb n="130366"/>danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her
<lb n="130367"/>cheeks. Till then they had only exchanged glances of the most casual but
<lb n="130368"/>now under the brim of her new hat she ventured a look at him and the face
<lb n="130369"/>that met her gaze there in the twilight, wan and strangely drawn, seemed to
<lb n="130370"/>her the saddest she had ever seen.</p>
<p><lb n="130371"/>Through the open window of the church the fragrant incense was
<lb n="130372"/>wafted and with it the fragrant names of her who was conceived without
<lb n="130373"/>stain of original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for
<lb n="130374"/>us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, mystical rose. And careworn
<lb n="130375"/>hearts were there and toilers for their daily bread and many who had erred
<lb n="130376"/>and wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all that bright with
<lb n="130377"/>hope for the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the great
<lb n="130378"/>saint Bernard said in his famous prayer of Mary, the most pious Virgin's
<lb n="130379"/>intercessory power that it was not recorded in any age that those who
<lb n="130380"/>implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her.</p>
<p><lb n="130381"/>The twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of
<lb n="130382"/>childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Cissy Caffrey played with
<lb n="130383"/>baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Peep
  <lb n="130384"/>she cried behind the hood of the <distinct type="dialect">pushcar</distinct> and Edy asked where was Cissy
<lb n="130385"/>gone and then Cissy popped up her head and cried ah! and, my word,
<lb n="130386"/>didn't the little chap enjoy that! And then she told him to say papa.
<lb n="130387"/><said who="ccaff">―Say papa, baby. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130388"/>And baby did his level best to say it for he was very intelligent for
<lb n="130389"/>eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the picture of health, a
<lb n="130390"/>perfect little bunch of love, and he would certainly turn out to be something
<lb n="130391"/>great, they said.
<lb n="130392"/><said who="bb">―Haja ja ja haja.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130393"/>Cissy wiped his little mouth with the dribbling bib and wanted him to
<lb n="130394"/>sit up properly and say pa pa pa but when she undid the strap she cried out,
  <lb n="130395"/>holy saint Denis, that he was <distinct type="dialect">possing</distinct> wet and to double the half blanket the
<lb n="130396"/>other way under him. Of course his infant majesty was most obstreperous
<lb n="130397"/>at such toilet formalities and he let everyone know it:
<lb n="130398"/><said who="bb">―Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130399"/>And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. It was
  <lb n="130400"/>all no use <distinct type="dialect">soothering</distinct> him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the
<lb n="130401"/>geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss, always <distinct type="compound">readywitted</distinct>, gave him
<lb n="130402"/>in his mouth the teat of the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">suckingbottle</distinct> and the young heathen was
<lb n="130403"/>quickly appeased.</p>
<p><lb n="130404"/>Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home
<lb n="130405"/>out of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little brats
<lb n="130406"/>of twins. She gazed out towards the distant sea. It was like the paintings
<lb n="130407"/>that man used to do on the pavement with all the coloured chalks and such
<lb n="130408"/>a pity too leaving them there to be all blotted out, the evening and the clouds
<lb n="130409"/>coming out and the Bailey light on Howth and to hear the music like that
<lb n="130410"/>and the perfume of those incense they burned in the church like a kind of
<lb n="130411"/>waft. And while she gazed her heart went pitapat. Yes, it was her he was
<lb n="130412"/>looking at, and there was meaning in his look. His eyes burned into her as
<lb n="130413"/>though they would search her through and through, read her very soul.
<lb n="130414"/>Wonderful eyes they were, superbly expressive, but could you trust them?
<lb n="130415"/>People were so queer. She could see at once by his dark eyes and his pale
<lb n="130416"/>intellectual face that he was a foreigner, the image of the photo she had of
<lb n="130417"/>Martin Harvey, the matinée idol, only for the moustache which she
  <lb n="130418"/>preferred because she wasn't <distinct type="compound">stagestruck</distinct> like Winny Rippingham that
<lb n="130419"/>wanted they two to always dress the same on account of a play but she
<lb n="130420"/>could not see whether he had an aquiline nose or a slightly <foreign xml:lang="fr">retroussé</foreign> from
<lb n="130421"/>where he was sitting. He was in deep mourning, she could see that, and the
<lb n="130422"/>story of a haunting sorrow was written on his face. She would have given
<lb n="130423"/>worlds to know what it was. He was looking up so intently, so still, and he
<lb n="130424"/>saw her kick the ball and perhaps he could see the bright steel buckles of
<lb n="130425"/>her shoes if she swung them like that thoughtfully with the toes down. She
<lb n="130426"/>was glad that something told her to put on the transparent stockings
<lb n="130427"/>thinking Reggy Wylie might be out but that was far away. Here was that of
<lb n="130428"/>which she had so often dreamed. It was he who mattered and there was joy
<lb n="130429"/>on her face because she wanted him because she felt instinctively that he
<lb n="130430"/>was like no-one else. The very heart of the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">girlwoman</distinct> went out to him, her
  <lb n="130431"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">dreamhusband</distinct>, because she knew on the instant it was him. If he had
<lb n="130432"/>suffered, more sinned against than sinning, or even, even, if he had been
<lb n="130433"/>himself a sinner, a wicked man, she cared not. Even if he was a protestant
<lb n="130434"/>or methodist she could convert him easily if he truly loved her. There were
  <lb n="130435"/>wounds that wanted healing with <distinct type="compound">heartbalm</distinct>. She was a womanly woman
<lb n="130436"/>not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had known, those cyclists showing
<lb n="130437"/>off what they hadn't got and she just yearned to know all, to forgive all if
<lb n="130438"/>she could make him fall in love with her, make him forget the memory of
<lb n="130439"/>the past. Then mayhap he would embrace her gently, like a real man,
<lb n="130440"/>crushing her soft body to him, and love her, his ownest girlie, for herself
<lb n="130441"/>alone.</p>
<p><lb n="130442"/>Refuge of sinners. Comfortress of the afflicted. <foreign xml:lang="la">Ora pro nobis.</foreign> Well
<lb n="130443"/>has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy can
<lb n="130444"/>never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the
<lb n="130445"/>afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart.
<lb n="130446"/>Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the stained glass
<lb n="130447"/>windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue banners of the
<lb n="130448"/>blessed Virgin's sodality and Father Conroy was helping Canon O'Hanlon
<lb n="130449"/>at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes cast down. He looked
<lb n="130450"/>almost a saint and his <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">confessionbox</distinct> was so quiet and clean and dark and
<lb n="130451"/>his hands were just like white wax and if ever she became a Dominican nun
<lb n="130452"/>in their white habit perhaps he might come to the convent for the novena of
<lb n="130453"/>Saint Dominic. He told her that time when she told him about that in
<lb n="130454"/>confession, crimsoning up to the roots of her hair for fear he could see, not
<lb n="130455"/>to be troubled because that was only the voice of nature and we were all
<lb n="130456"/>subject to nature's laws, he said, in this life and that that was no sin because
<lb n="130457"/>that came from the nature of woman instituted by God, he said, and that
<lb n="130458"/>Our Blessed Lady herself said to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me
<lb n="130459"/>according to Thy Word. He was so kind and holy and often and often she
<lb n="130460"/>thought and thought could she work a ruched <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">teacosy</distinct> with embroidered
<lb n="130461"/>floral design for him as a present or a clock but they had a clock she noticed
<lb n="130462"/>on the mantelpiece white and gold with a <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">canarybird</distinct> that came out of a
<lb n="130463"/>little house to tell the time the day she went there about the flowers for the
<lb n="130464"/>forty hours' adoration because it was hard to know what sort of a present
<lb n="130465"/>to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some place.</p>
<p><lb n="130466"/>The exasperating little brats of twins began to quarrel again and
<lb n="130467"/>Jacky threw the ball out towards the sea and they both ran after it. Little
<lb n="130468"/>monkeys common as ditchwater. Someone ought to take them and give
<lb n="130469"/>them a good hiding for themselves to keep them in their places, the both of
<lb n="130470"/>them. And Cissy and Edy shouted after them to come back because they
<lb n="130471"/>were afraid the tide might come in on them and be drowned.
<lb n="130472"/><said who="edb ccaff">―Jacky! Tommy!</said></p>
<p><lb n="130473"/>Not they! What a great notion they had! So Cissy said it was the very
<lb n="130474"/>last time she'd ever bring them out. She jumped up and called them and she
<lb n="130475"/>ran down the slope past him, tossing her hair behind her which had a good
<lb n="130476"/>enough colour if there had been more of it but with all the <distinct type="dialect">thingamerry</distinct> she
<lb n="130477"/>was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it to grow long because it wasn't
<lb n="130478"/>natural so she could just go and throw her hat at it. She ran with long
<lb n="130479"/>gandery strides it was a wonder she didn't rip up her skirt at the side that
<lb n="130480"/>was too tight on her because there was a lot of the tomboy about Cissy
<lb n="130481"/>Caffrey and she was a forward piece whenever she thought she had a good
<lb n="130482"/>opportunity to show off and just because she was a good runner she ran like
<lb n="130483"/>that so that he could see all the end of her petticoat running and her skinny
<lb n="130484"/>shanks up as far as possible. It would have served her just right if she had
<lb n="130485"/>tripped up over something accidentally on purpose with her high crooked
<lb n="130486"/>French heels on her to make her look tall and got a fine tumble. <foreign xml:lang="fr">Tableau!</foreign>
<lb n="130487"/>That would have been a very charming exposé for a gentleman like that to
<lb n="130488"/>witness.</p>
<p><lb n="130489"/>Queen of angels, queen of patriarchs, queen of prophets, of all saints,
<lb n="130490"/>they prayed, queen of the most holy rosary and then Father Conroy handed
<lb n="130491"/>the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon and he put in the incense and censed the
<lb n="130492"/>Blessed Sacrament and Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins and she was
<lb n="130493"/>itching to give them a ringing good clip on the ear but she didn't because
<lb n="130494"/>she thought he might be watching but she never made a bigger mistake in all
<lb n="130495"/>her life because Gerty could see without looking that he never took his eyes
<lb n="130496"/>off of her and then Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible back to Father
<lb n="130497"/>Conroy and knelt down looking up at the Blessed Sacrament and the choir
<lb n="130498"/>began to sing the <foreign xml:lang="la">Tantum ergo</foreign> and she just swung her foot in and out in
<lb n="130499"/>time as the music rose and fell to the <foreign xml:lang="la">tantumer gosa cramen tum</foreign>. Three and
<lb n="130500"/>eleven she paid for those stockings in Sparrow's of George's street on the
<lb n="130501"/>Tuesday, no the Monday before Easter and there wasn't a brack on them
<lb n="130502"/>and that was what he was looking at, transparent, and not at her
<lb n="130503"/>insignificant ones that had neither shape nor form (the cheek of her!)
<lb n="130504"/>because he had eyes in his head to see the difference for himself.</p>
<p><lb n="130505"/>Cissy came up along the strand with the two twins and their ball with
<lb n="130506"/>her hat anyhow on her to one side after her run and she did look a <distinct type="dialect">streel</distinct>
<lb n="130507"/>tugging the two kids along with the flimsy blouse she bought only a
<lb n="130508"/>fortnight before like a rag on her back and a bit of her petticoat hanging
<lb n="130509"/>like a caricature. Gerty just took off her hat for a moment to settle her hair
  <lb n="130510"/>and a prettier, a daintier head of <distinct type="compound">nutbrown</distinct> tresses was never seen on a
<lb n="130511"/>girl's shoulders – a radiant little vision, in sooth, almost maddening in its
<lb n="130512"/>sweetness. You would have to travel many a long mile before you found a
<lb n="130513"/>head of hair the like of that. She could almost see the swift answering flash
<lb n="130514"/>of admiration in his eyes that set her tingling in every nerve. She put on her
<lb n="130515"/>hat so that she could see from underneath the brim and swung her buckled
<lb n="130516"/>shoe faster for her breath caught as she caught the expression in his eyes.
<lb n="130517"/>He was eying her as a snake eyes its prey. Her woman's instinct told her
<lb n="130518"/>that she had raised the devil in him and at the thought a burning scarlet
<lb n="130519"/>swept from throat to brow till the lovely colour of her face became a
<lb n="130520"/>glorious rose.</p>
<p><lb n="130521"/>Edy Boardman was noticing it too because she was squinting at
<lb n="130522"/>Gerty, half smiling, with her specs like an old maid, pretending to nurse the
<lb n="130523"/>baby. Irritable little gnat she was and always would be and that was why
<lb n="130524"/>no-one could get on with her poking her nose into what was no concern of
<lb n="130525"/>hers. And she said to Gerty:
<lb n="130526"/><said who="edb">―A penny for your thoughts.</said>
<lb n="130527"/><said who="gmd">―What?</said> replied Gerty with a smile reinforced by the whitest of teeth. <said who="gmd">I was
<lb n="130528"/>only wondering was it late.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130529"/>Because she wished to goodness they'd take the <distinct type="compound">snottynosed</distinct> twins and
  <lb n="130530"/>their <distinct type="dialect">babby</distinct> home to the mischief out of that so that was why she just gave a
<lb n="130531"/>gentle hint about its being late. And when Cissy came up Edy asked her the
<lb n="130532"/>time and Miss Cissy, as glib as you like, said it was half past kissing time,
<lb n="130533"/>time to kiss again. But Edy wanted to know because they were told to be in
<lb n="130534"/>early.
<lb n="130535"/><said who="ccaff">―Wait,</said> said Cissy, <said who="ccaff">I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time by
  <lb n="130536"/>his <distinct type="dialect">conundrum</distinct>.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130537"/>So over she went and when he saw her coming she could see him take
<lb n="130538"/>his hand out of his pocket, getting nervous, and beginning to play with his
  <lb n="130539"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">watchchain</distinct>, looking up at the church. Passionate nature though he was
<lb n="130540"/>Gerty could see that he had enormous control over himself. One moment he
<lb n="130541"/>had been there, fascinated by a loveliness that made him gaze, and the next
  <lb n="130542"/>moment it was the quiet <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">gravefaced</distinct> gentleman, <distinct type="compound">selfcontrol</distinct> expressed in
<lb n="130543"/>every line of his <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">distinguishedlooking</distinct> figure.</p>
<p><lb n="130544"/>Cissy said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was
<lb n="130545"/>the right time and Gerty could see him taking out his watch, listening to it
<lb n="130546"/>and looking up and clearing his throat and he said he was very sorry his
<lb n="130547"/>watch was stopped but he thought it must be after eight because the sun was
<lb n="130548"/>set. His voice had a cultured ring in it and though he spoke in measured
<lb n="130549"/>accents there was a suspicion of a quiver in the mellow tones. Cissy said
<lb n="130550"/>thanks and came back with her tongue out and said uncle said his
  <lb n="130551"/><distinct type="dialect">waterworks</distinct> were out of order.</p>
<p><lb n="130552"/>Then they sang the second verse of the <foreign xml:lang="la">Tantum ergo</foreign> and Canon
<lb n="130553"/>O'Hanlon got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down
<lb n="130554"/>and he told Father Conroy that one of the candles was just going to set fire
<lb n="130555"/>to the flowers and Father Conroy got up and settled it all right and she
<lb n="130556"/>could see the gentleman winding his watch and listening to the works and
<lb n="130557"/>she swung her leg more in and out in time. It was getting darker but he
<lb n="130558"/>could see and he was looking all the time that he was winding the watch or
<lb n="130559"/>whatever he was doing to it and then he put it back and put his hands back
<lb n="130560"/>into his pockets. She felt a kind of a sensation rushing all over her and she
<lb n="130561"/>knew by the feel of her scalp and that irritation against her stays that that
<lb n="130562"/>thing must be coming on because the last time too was when she clipped her
<lb n="130563"/>hair on account of the moon. His dark eyes fixed themselves on her again,
<lb n="130564"/>drinking in her every contour, literally worshipping at her shrine. If ever
<lb n="130565"/>there was undisguised admiration in a man's passionate gaze it was there
<lb n="130566"/>plain to be seen on that man's face. It is for you, Gertrude MacDowell, and
<lb n="130567"/>you know it.</p>
<p><lb n="130568"/>Edy began to get ready to go and it was high time for her and Gerty
<lb n="130569"/>noticed that that little hint she gave had had the desired effect because it was
<lb n="130570"/>a long way along the strand to where there was the place to push up the
  <lb n="130571"/><distinct type="dialect">pushcar</distinct> and Cissy took off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make
<lb n="130572"/>herself attractive of course and Canon O'Hanlon stood up with his cope
<lb n="130573"/>poking up at his neck and Father Conroy handed him the card to read off
<lb n="130574"/>and he read out <foreign xml:lang="la">Panem de coelo praestitisti eis</foreign> and Edy and Cissy were
<lb n="130575"/>talking about the time all the time and asking her but Gerty could pay them
<lb n="130576"/>back in their own coin and she just answered with scathing politeness when
<lb n="130577"/>Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her best boy throwing her over.
<lb n="130578"/>Gerty winced sharply. A brief cold blaze shone from her eyes that spoke
<lb n="130579"/>volumes of scorn immeasurable. It hurt – O yes, it cut deep because Edy
<lb n="130580"/>had her own quiet way of saying things like that she knew would wound
<lb n="130581"/>like the confounded little cat she was. Gerty's lips parted swiftly to frame
<lb n="130582"/>the word but she fought back the sob that rose to her throat, so slim, so
<lb n="130583"/>flawless, so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have dreamed
<lb n="130584"/>of. She had loved him better than he knew. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle
<lb n="130585"/>like all his sex he would never understand what he had meant to her and for
<lb n="130586"/>an instant there was in the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. Their eyes
<lb n="130587"/>were probing her mercilessly but with a brave effort she sparkled back in
<lb n="130588"/>sympathy as she glanced at her new conquest for them to see.
<lb n="130589"/><said who="gmd">―O,</said> responded Gerty, quick as lightning, laughing, and the proud head
<lb n="130590"/>flashed up. <said who="gmd">I can throw my cap at who I like because it's leap year.</said></p>
  <p><lb n="130591"/>Her words rang out <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">crystalclear</distinct>, more musical than the cooing of the
<lb n="130592"/>ringdove, but they cut the silence icily. There was that in her young voice
<lb n="130593"/>that told that she was not a one to be lightly trifled with. As for Mr Reggy
<lb n="130594"/>with his swank and his bit of money she could just chuck him aside as if he
<lb n="130595"/>was so much filth and never again would she cast as much as a second
<lb n="130596"/>thought on him and tear his silly postcard into a dozen pieces. And if ever
<lb n="130597"/>after he dared to presume she could give him one look of measured scorn
<lb n="130598"/>that would make him shrivel up on the spot. Miss puny little Edy's
<lb n="130599"/>countenance fell to no slight extent and Gerty could see by her looking as
<lb n="130600"/>black as thunder that she was simply in a towering rage though she hid it,
    <lb n="130601"/>the little <distinct type="dialect">kinnatt</distinct>, because that shaft had struck home for her petty jealousy
<lb n="130602"/>and they both knew that she was something aloof, apart, in another sphere,
<lb n="130603"/>that she was not of them and never would be and there was somebody else
<lb n="130604"/>too that knew it and saw it so they could put that in their pipe and smoke it.</p>
<p><lb n="130605"/>Edy straightened up baby Boardman to get ready to go and Cissy
<lb n="130606"/>tucked in the ball and the spades and buckets and it was high time too
<lb n="130607"/>because the sandman was on his way for Master Boardman junior. And
<lb n="130608"/>Cissy told him too that billy winks was coming and that baby was to go
<lb n="130609"/>deedaw and baby looked just too ducky, laughing up out of his gleeful eyes,
<lb n="130610"/>and Cissy poked him like that out of fun in his wee fat tummy and baby,
<lb n="130611"/>without as much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and sundry
  <lb n="130612"/>on to his <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">brandnew</distinct> dribbling bib.
<lb n="130613"/><said who="ccaff">―O my! Puddeny pie!</said> protested Ciss. <said who="ccaff">He has his bib destroyed.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130614"/>The slight <foreign xml:lang="fr">contretemps</foreign> claimed her attention but in two twos she set
<lb n="130615"/>that little matter to rights.</p>
<p><lb n="130616"/>Gerty stifled a smothered exclamation and gave a nervous cough and
<lb n="130617"/>Edy asked what and she was just going to tell her to catch it while it was
<lb n="130618"/>flying but she was ever ladylike in her deportment so she simply passed it
<lb n="130619"/>off with consummate tact by saying that that was the benediction because
<lb n="130620"/>just then the bell rang out from the steeple over the quiet seashore because
<lb n="130621"/>Canon O'Hanlon was up on the altar with the veil that Father Conroy put
<lb n="130622"/>round his shoulders giving the benediction with the Blessed Sacrament in
<lb n="130623"/>his hands.</p>
<p><lb n="130624"/>How moving the scene there in the gathering twilight, the last glimpse
<lb n="130625"/>of Erin, the touching chime of those evening bells and at the same time a bat
<lb n="130626"/>flew forth from the ivied belfry through the dusk, hither, thither, with a tiny
<lb n="130627"/>lost cry. And she could see far away the lights of the lighthouses so
<lb n="130628"/>picturesque she would have loved to do with a box of paints because it was
<lb n="130629"/>easier than to make a man and soon the lamplighter would be going his
<lb n="130630"/>rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady
<lb n="130631"/>Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her
<lb n="130632"/>window where Reggy Wylie used to turn his freewheel like she read in that
<lb n="130633"/>book <title type="book">The Lamplighter</title> by Miss Cummins, author of <title type="book">Mabel Vaughan</title> and
<lb n="130634"/>other tales. For Gerty had her dreams that no-one knew of. She loved to
<lb n="130635"/>read poetry and when she got a keepsake from Bertha Supple of that lovely
  <lb n="130636"/>confession album with the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">coralpink</distinct> cover to write her thoughts in she laid
  <lb n="130637"/>it in the drawer of her <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">toilettable</distinct> which, though it did not err on the side of
<lb n="130638"/>luxury, was scrupulously neat and clean. It was there she kept her girlish
<lb n="130639"/>treasure trove, the tortoiseshell combs, her child of Mary badge, the
  <lb n="130640"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">whiterose</distinct> scent, the eyebrowleine, her alabaster <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">pouncetbox</distinct> and the ribbons
<lb n="130641"/>to change when her things came home from the wash and there were some
<lb n="130642"/>beautiful thoughts written in it in violet ink that she bought in Hely's of
<lb n="130643"/>Dame Street for she felt that she too could write poetry if she could only
<lb n="130644"/>express herself like that poem that appealed to her so deeply that she had
<lb n="130645"/>copied out of the newspaper she found one evening round the potherbs. <emph>Art
<lb n="130646"/>thou real, my ideal?</emph> it was called by Louis J Walsh, Magherafelt, and after
<lb n="130647"/>there was something about <emph>twilight, wilt thou ever?</emph> and <distinct type="compound">ofttimes</distinct> the beauty
<lb n="130648"/>of poetry, so sad in its transient loveliness, had misted her eyes with silent
<lb n="130649"/>tears for she felt that the years were slipping by for her, one by one, and but
<lb n="130650"/>for that one shortcoming she knew she need fear no competition and that
<lb n="130651"/>was an accident coming down Dalkey hill and she always tried to conceal it.
<lb n="130652"/>But it must end, she felt. If she saw that magic lure in his eyes there would
<lb n="130653"/>be no holding back for her. Love laughs at locksmiths. She would make the
<lb n="130654"/>great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his thoughts. Dearer than
<lb n="130655"/>the whole world would she be to him and gild his days with happiness.
  <lb n="130656"/>There was the <distinct type="compound">allimportant</distinct> question and she was dying to know was he a
<lb n="130657"/>married man or a widower who had lost his wife or some tragedy like the
<lb n="130658"/>nobleman with the foreign name from the land of song had to have her put
<lb n="130659"/>into a madhouse, cruel only to be kind. But even if – what then? Would it
<lb n="130660"/>make a very great difference? From everything in the least indelicate her
  <lb n="130661"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">finebred</distinct> nature instinctively recoiled. She loathed that sort of person, the
<lb n="130662"/>fallen women off the accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went
<lb n="130663"/>with the soldiers and coarse men with no respect for a girl's honour,
<lb n="130664"/>degrading the sex and being taken up to the police station. No, no: not that.
<lb n="130665"/>They would be just good friends like a big brother and sister without all
<lb n="130666"/>that other in spite of the conventions of Society with a big ess. Perhaps it
<lb n="130667"/>was an old flame he was in mourning for from the days beyond recall. She
<lb n="130668"/>thought she understood. She would try to understand him because men
<lb n="130669"/>were so different. The old love was waiting, waiting with little white hands
<lb n="130670"/>stretched out, with blue appealing eyes. Heart of mine! She would follow,
<lb n="130671"/>her dream of love, the dictates of her heart that told her he was her all in all,
<lb n="130672"/>the only man in all the world for her for love was the master guide. Nothing
<lb n="130673"/>else mattered. Come what might she would be wild, untrammelled, free.</p>
<p><lb n="130674"/>Canon O'Hanlon put the Blessed Sacrament back into the tabernacle
<lb n="130675"/>and genuflected and the choir sang <foreign xml:lang="la">Laudate Dominum omnes gentes</foreign> and
<lb n="130676"/>then he locked the tabernacle door because the benediction was over and
<lb n="130677"/>Father Conroy handed him his hat to put on and <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">crosscat</distinct> Edy asked wasn't
<lb n="130678"/>she coming but Jacky Caffrey called out:
<lb n="130679"/><said who="jcaff">―O, look, Cissy!</said></p>
<p><lb n="130680"/>And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too over
<lb n="130681"/>the trees beside the church, blue and then green and purple.
<lb n="130682"/><said who="ccaff">―It's fireworks,</said> Cissy Caffrey said.</p>
<p><lb n="130683"/>And they all ran down the strand to see over the houses and the
  <lb n="130684"/>church, <distinct type="compound">helterskelter</distinct>, Edy with the <distinct type="dialect">pushcar</distinct> with baby Boardman in it and
<lb n="130685"/>Cissy holding Tommy and Jacky by the hand so they wouldn't fall running.
<lb n="130686"/><said who="ccaff">―Come on, Gerty,</said> Cissy called. <said who="ccaff">It's the bazaar fireworks.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130687"/>But Gerty was adamant. She had no intention of being at their beck
  <lb n="130688"/>and call. If they could run like <distinct type="Joycean">rossies</distinct> she could sit so she said she could see
<lb n="130689"/>from where she was. The eyes that were fastened upon her set her pulses
<lb n="130690"/>tingling. She looked at him a moment, meeting his glance, and a light broke
  <lb n="130691"/>in upon her. <distinct type="compound">Whitehot</distinct> passion was in that face, passion silent as the grave,
<lb n="130692"/>and it had made her his. At last they were left alone without the others to
<lb n="130693"/>pry and pass remarks and she knew he could be trusted to the death,
<lb n="130694"/>steadfast, a sterling man, a man of inflexible honour to his fingertips. His
<lb n="130695"/>hands and face were working and a tremour went over her. She leaned
<lb n="130696"/>back far to look up where the fireworks were and she caught her knee in
<lb n="130697"/>her hands so as not to fall back looking up and there was no-one to see only
<lb n="130698"/>him and her when she revealed all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like
<lb n="130699"/>that, supply soft and delicately rounded, and she seemed to hear the panting
<lb n="130700"/>of his heart, his hoarse breathing, because she knew too about the passion
  <lb n="130701"/>of men like that, <distinct type="compound">hotblooded</distinct>, because Bertha Supple told her once in dead
<lb n="130702"/>secret and made her swear she'd never about the gentleman lodger that was
<lb n="130703"/>staying with them out of the Congested Districts Board that had pictures
<lb n="130704"/>cut out of papers of those <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">skirtdancers</distinct> and <distinct type="compound">highkickers</distinct> and she said he
<lb n="130705"/>used to do something not very nice that you could imagine sometimes in the
<lb n="130706"/>bed. But this was altogether different from a thing like that because there
<lb n="130707"/>was all the difference because she could almost feel him draw her face to his
<lb n="130708"/>and the first quick hot touch of his handsome lips. Besides there was
<lb n="130709"/>absolution so long as you didn't do the other thing before being married
<lb n="130710"/>and there ought to be women priests that would understand without your
<lb n="130711"/>telling out and Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy kind of
<lb n="130712"/>dreamy look in her eyes so that she too, my dear, and Winny Rippingham
<lb n="130713"/>so mad about actors' photographs and besides it was on account of that
<lb n="130714"/>other thing coming on the way it did.</p>
<p><lb n="130715"/>And Jacky Caffrey shouted to look, there was another and she leaned
<lb n="130716"/>back and the garters were blue to match on account of the transparent and
<lb n="130717"/>they all saw it and they all shouted to look, look, there it was and she leaned
<lb n="130718"/>back ever so far to see the fireworks and something queer was flying
<lb n="130719"/>through the air, a soft thing, to and fro, dark. And she saw a long Roman
<lb n="130720"/>candle going up over the trees, up, up, and, in the tense hush, they were all
<lb n="130721"/>breathless with excitement as it went higher and higher and she had to lean
<lb n="130722"/>back more and more to look up after it, high, high, almost out of sight, and
<lb n="130723"/>her face was suffused with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining
<lb n="130724"/>back and he could see her other things too, nainsook knickers, the fabric
<lb n="130725"/>that caresses the skin, better than those other <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">pettiwidth</distinct>, the green, four and
<lb n="130726"/>eleven, on account of being white and she let him and she saw that he saw
<lb n="130727"/>and then it went so high it went out of sight a moment and she was
<lb n="130728"/>trembling in every limb from being bent so far back that he had a full view
<lb n="130729"/>high up above her knee where no-one ever not even on the swing or wading
<lb n="130730"/>and she wasn't ashamed and he wasn't either to look in that immodest way
<lb n="130731"/>like that because he couldn't resist the sight of the wondrous revealment
<lb n="130732"/>half offered like those <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">skirtdancers</distinct> behaving so immodest before gentlemen
<lb n="130733"/>looking and he kept on looking, looking. She would fain have cried to him
<lb n="130734"/>chokingly, held out her snowy slender arms to him to come, to feel his lips
<lb n="130735"/>laid on her white brow, the cry of a young girl's love, a little strangled cry,
<lb n="130736"/>wrung from her, that cry that has rung through the ages. And then a rocket
<lb n="130737"/>sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! then the Roman candle burst and
<lb n="130738"/>it was like a sigh of O! and everyone cried O! O! in raptures and it gushed
<lb n="130739"/>out of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they shed and ah! they were
<lb n="130740"/>all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so lovely, O, soft, sweet, soft!</p>
<p><lb n="130741"/>Then all melted away dewily in the grey air: all was silent. Ah! She
<lb n="130742"/>glanced at him as she bent forward quickly, a pathetic little glance of
<lb n="130743"/>piteous protest, of shy reproach under which he coloured like a girl. He was
<lb n="130744"/>leaning back against the rock behind. Leopold Bloom (for it is he) stands
<lb n="130745"/>silent, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. What a brute he
<lb n="130746"/>had been! At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him and, wretch
<lb n="130747"/>that he was, how had he answered? An utter cad he had been! He of all
<lb n="130748"/>men! But there was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes, for him too a
<lb n="130749"/>word of pardon even though he had erred and sinned and wandered.
<lb n="130750"/>Should a girl tell? No, a thousand times no. That was their secret, only
<lb n="130751"/>theirs, alone in the hiding twilight and there was none to know or tell save
<lb n="130752"/>the little bat that flew so softly through the evening to and fro and little bats
<lb n="130753"/>don't tell.</p>
<p><lb n="130754"/>Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the football field to show
<lb n="130755"/>what a great person she was: and then she cried:
<lb n="130756"/><said who="ccaff">―Gerty! Gerty! We're going. Come on. We can see from farther up.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130757"/>Gerty had an idea, one of love's little ruses. She slipped a hand into
<lb n="130758"/>her kerchief pocket and took out the wadding and waved in reply of course
<lb n="130759"/>without letting him and then slipped it back. Wonder if he's too far to. She
<lb n="130760"/>rose. Was it goodbye? No. She had to go but they would meet again, there,
<lb n="130761"/>and she would dream of that till then, tomorrow, of her dream of yester eve.
<lb n="130762"/>She drew herself up to her full height. Their souls met in a last lingering
<lb n="130763"/>glance and the eyes that reached her heart, full of a strange shining, hung
<lb n="130764"/>enraptured on her sweet flowerlike face. She half smiled at him wanly, a
<lb n="130765"/>sweet forgiving smile, a smile that verged on tears, and then they parted.</p>
<p><lb n="130766"/>Slowly, without looking back she went down the uneven strand to
<lb n="130767"/>Cissy, to Edy, to Jacky and Tommy Caffrey, to little baby Boardman. It was
<lb n="130768"/>darker now and there were stones and bits of wood on the strand and slippy
<lb n="130769"/>seaweed. She walked with a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her but
<lb n="130770"/>with care and very slowly because – because Gerty MacDowell was ...</p>
  <p><lb n="130771"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Tight boots? No. She's lame! O!</said></p>
<p><lb n="130772"/>Mr Bloom watched her as she limped away. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Poor girl! That's why
<lb n="130773"/>she's left on the shelf and the others did a sprint. Thought something was
<lb n="130774"/>wrong by the cut of her jib. Jilted beauty. A defect is ten times worse in a
<lb n="130775"/>woman. But makes them polite. Glad I didn't know it when she was on
<lb n="130776"/>show. Hot little devil all the same. I wouldn't mind. Curiosity like a nun or
<lb n="130777"/>a negress or a girl with glasses. That squinty one is delicate. Near her
<lb n="130778"/>monthlies, I expect, makes them feel ticklish. I have such a bad headache
<lb n="130779"/>today. Where did I put the letter? Yes, all right. All kinds of crazy longings.
<lb n="130780"/>Licking pennies. Girl in Tranquilla convent that nun told me liked to smell
<lb n="130781"/>rock oil. Virgins go mad in the end I suppose. Sister? How many women in
<lb n="130782"/>Dublin have it today? Martha, she. Something in the air. That's the moon.
<lb n="130783"/>But then why don't all women menstruate at the same time with the same
<lb n="130784"/>moon, I mean? Depends on the time they were born I suppose. Or all start
<lb n="130785"/>scratch then get out of step. Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Anyhow I
<lb n="130786"/>got the best of that. Damned glad I didn't do it in the bath this morning
<lb n="130787"/>over her silly I will punish you letter. Made up for that <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">tramdriver</distinct> this
<lb n="130788"/>morning. That gouger M'Coy stopping me to say nothing. And his wife
<lb n="130789"/>engagement in the country valise, voice like a pickaxe. Thankful for small
<lb n="130790"/>mercies. Cheap too. Yours for the asking. Because they want it themselves.
<lb n="130791"/>Their natural craving. Shoals of them every evening poured out of offices.
<lb n="130792"/>Reserve better. Don't want it they throw it at you. Catch em alive, O. Pity
<lb n="130793"/>they can't see themselves. A dream of <distinct type="compound">wellfilled</distinct> hose. Where was that? Ah,
<lb n="130794"/>yes. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. Peeping Tom.
<lb n="130795"/>Willy's hat and what the girls did with it. Do they snapshot those girls or is
<lb n="130796"/>it all a fake? <foreign xml:lang="fr">Lingerie</foreign> does it. Felt for the curves inside her <foreign xml:lang="fr">deshabille</foreign>.
<lb n="130797"/>Excites them also when they're. I'm all clean come and dirty me. And they
<lb n="130798"/>like dressing one another for the sacrifice. Milly delighted with Molly's new
<lb n="130799"/>blouse. At first. Put them all on to take them all off. Molly. Why I bought
<lb n="130800"/>her the violet garters. Us too: the tie he wore, his lovely socks and <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">turnedup</distinct>
<lb n="130801"/>trousers. He wore a pair of gaiters the night that first we met. His lovely
<lb n="130802"/>shirt was shining beneath his what? of jet. Say a woman loses a charm with
<lb n="130803"/>every pin she takes out. Pinned together. O, Mairy lost the pin of her.
<lb n="130804"/>Dressed up to the nines for somebody. Fashion part of their charm. Just
<lb n="130805"/>changes when you're on the track of the secret. Except the east: Mary,
<lb n="130806"/>Martha: now as then. No reasonable offer refused. She wasn't in a hurry
<lb n="130807"/>either. Always off to a fellow when they are. They never forget an
<lb n="130808"/>appointment. Out on spec probably. They believe in chance because like
<lb n="130809"/>themselves. And the others inclined to give her an odd dig. Girl friends at
<lb n="130810"/>school, arms round each other's necks or with ten fingers locked, kissing
<lb n="130811"/>and whispering secrets about nothing in the convent garden. Nuns with
<lb n="130812"/>whitewashed faces, cool coifs and their rosaries going up and down,
<lb n="130813"/>vindictive too for what they can't get. Barbed wire. Be sure now and write
<lb n="130814"/>to me. And I'll write to you. Now won't you? Molly and Josie Powell. Till
<lb n="130815"/>Mr Right comes along, then meet once in a blue moon. <foreign xml:lang="fr">Tableau!</foreign> O, look
<lb n="130816"/>who it is for the love of God! How are you at all? What have you been
<lb n="130817"/>doing with yourself? Kiss and delighted to, kiss, to see you. Picking holes in
<lb n="130818"/>each other's appearance. You're looking splendid. Sister souls. Showing
<lb n="130819"/>their teeth at one another. How many have you left? Wouldn't lend each
  <lb n="130820"/>other a pinch of salt.</said></p>
  <p><lb n="130821"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Ah!</said></p>
<p><lb n="130822"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Devils they are when that's coming on them. Dark devilish
<lb n="130823"/>appearance. Molly often told me feel things a ton weight. Scratch the sole of
<lb n="130824"/>my foot. O that way! O, that's exquisite! Feel it myself too. Good to rest
<lb n="130825"/>once in a way. Wonder if it's bad to go with them then. Safe in one way.
  <lb n="130826"/>Turns milk, makes <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">fiddlestrings</distinct> snap. Something about withering plants I
<lb n="130827"/>read in a garden. Besides they say if the flower withers she wears she's a
<lb n="130828"/>flirt. All are. Daresay she felt I. When you feel like that you often meet what
<lb n="130829"/>you feel. Liked me or what? Dress they look at. Always know a fellow
<lb n="130830"/>courting: collars and cuffs. Well cocks and lions do the same and stags.
<lb n="130831"/>Same time might prefer a tie undone or something. Trousers? Suppose I
<lb n="130832"/>when I was? No. Gently does it. Dislike rough and tumble. Kiss in the dark
<lb n="130833"/>and never tell. Saw something in me. Wonder what. Sooner have me as I am
<lb n="130834"/>than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair, <distinct type="archaism">lovelock</distinct> over his <distinct type="archaism">dexter</distinct>
<lb n="130835"/>optic. To aid gentleman in literary. Ought to attend to my appearance my
<lb n="130836"/>age. Didn't let her see me in profile. Still, you never know. Pretty girls and
<lb n="130837"/>ugly men marrying. Beauty and the beast. Besides I can't be so if Molly.
<lb n="130838"/>Took off her hat to show her hair. Wide brim. Bought to hide her face,
<lb n="130839"/>meeting someone might know her, bend down or carry a bunch of flowers
<lb n="130840"/>to smell. Hair strong in rut. Ten bob I got for Molly's combings when we
<lb n="130841"/>were on the rocks in Holles street. Why not? Suppose he gave her money.
<lb n="130842"/>Why not? All a prejudice. She's worth ten, fifteen, more, a pound. What? I
<lb n="130843"/>think so. All that for nothing. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. Did I forget to write
<lb n="130844"/>address on that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the day I went
<lb n="130845"/>to Drimmie's without a necktie. Wrangle with Molly it was put me off. No, I
<lb n="130846"/>remember. Richie Goulding: he's another. Weighs on his mind. Funny my
<lb n="130847"/>watch stopped at half past four. Dust. Shark liver oil they use to clean.
  <lb n="130848"/>Could do it myself. Save. Was that just when he, she?</said></p>
  <p><lb n="130849"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">O, he did. Into her. She did. Done.</said></p>
  <p><lb n="130850"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Ah!</said></p>
<p><lb n="130851"/>Mr Bloom with careful hand recomposed his wet shirt. <said who="lb" aloud="false">O Lord, that
<lb n="130852"/>little limping devil. Begins to feel cold and clammy. Aftereffect not pleasant.
<lb n="130853"/>Still you have to get rid of it someway. They don't care. Complimented
  <lb n="130854"/>perhaps. Go home to <distinct type="dialect">nicey</distinct> bread and milky and say night prayers with the
<lb n="130855"/>kiddies. Well, aren't they? See her as she is spoil all. Must have the stage
<lb n="130856"/>setting, the rouge, costume, position, music. The name too. <foreign xml:lang="fr">Amours</foreign> of
<lb n="130857"/>actresses. Nell Gwynn, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud Branscombe. Curtain up.
<lb n="130858"/>Moonlight silver effulgence. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. Little
<lb n="130859"/>sweetheart come and kiss me. Still, I feel. The strength it gives a man.
<lb n="130860"/>That's the secret of it. Good job I let off there behind the wall coming out of
<lb n="130861"/>Dignam's. Cider that was. Otherwise I couldn't have. Makes you want to
<lb n="130862"/>sing after. <foreign xml:lang="la">Lacaus esant taratara.</foreign> Suppose I spoke to her. What about? Bad
<lb n="130863"/>plan however if you don't know how to end the conversation. Ask them a
<lb n="130864"/>question they ask you another. Good idea if you're stuck. Gain time. But
<lb n="130865"/>then you're in a cart. Wonderful of course if you say: good evening, and
<lb n="130866"/>you see she's on for it: good evening. O but the dark evening in the Appian
<lb n="130867"/>way I nearly spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was. Whew! Girl in
<lb n="130868"/>Meath street that night. All the dirty things I made her say. All wrong of
<lb n="130869"/>course. My arks she called it. It's so hard to find one who. Aho! If you
<lb n="130870"/>don't answer when they solicit must be horrible for them till they harden.
<lb n="130871"/>And kissed my hand when I gave her the extra two shillings. Parrots. Press
<lb n="130872"/>the button and the bird will squeak. Wish she hadn't called me sir. O, her
<lb n="130873"/>mouth in the dark! And you a married man with a single girl! That's what
<lb n="130874"/>they enjoy. Taking a man from another woman. Or even hear of it.
<lb n="130875"/>Different with me. Glad to get away from other chap's wife. Eating off his
<lb n="130876"/>cold plate. Chap in the Burton today spitting back <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">gumchewed</distinct> gristle.
<lb n="130877"/>French letter still in my pocketbook. Cause of half the trouble. But might
<lb n="130878"/>happen sometime, I don't think. Come in, all is prepared. I dreamt. What?
<lb n="130879"/>Worst is beginning. How they change the venue when it's not what they
<lb n="130880"/>like. Ask you do you like mushrooms because she once knew a gentleman
<lb n="130881"/>who. Or ask you what someone was going to say when he changed his
<lb n="130882"/>mind and stopped. Yet if I went the whole hog, say: I want to, something
<lb n="130883"/>like that. Because I did. She too. Offend her. Then make it up. Pretend to
<lb n="130884"/>want something awfully, then cry off for her sake. Flatters them. She must
<lb n="130885"/>have been thinking of someone else all the time. What harm? Must since she
<lb n="130886"/>came to the use of reason, he, he and he. First kiss does the trick. The
<lb n="130887"/>propitious moment. Something inside them goes pop. Mushy like, tell by
<lb n="130888"/>their eye, on the sly. First thoughts are best. Remember that till their dying
<lb n="130889"/>day. Molly, lieutenant Mulvey that kissed her under the Moorish wall
<lb n="130890"/>beside the gardens. Fifteen she told me. But her breasts were developed. Fell
<lb n="130891"/>asleep then. After Glencree dinner that was when we drove home.
<lb n="130892"/>Featherbed mountain. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Lord mayor had his eye
  <lb n="130893"/>on her too. Val Dillon. Apoplectic.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130894"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">There she is with them down there for the fireworks. My fireworks.
<lb n="130895"/>Up like a rocket, down like a stick. And the children, twins they must be,
<lb n="130896"/>waiting for something to happen. Want to be grownups. Dressing in
<lb n="130897"/>mother's clothes. Time enough, understand all the ways of the world. And
<lb n="130898"/>the dark one with the mop head and the nigger mouth. I knew she could
<lb n="130899"/>whistle. Mouth made for that. Like Molly. Why that <distinct type="compound">highclass</distinct> whore in
<lb n="130900"/>Jammet's wore her veil only to her nose. Would you mind, please, telling me
<lb n="130901"/>the right time? I'll tell you the right time up a dark lane. Say prunes and
<lb n="130902"/>prisms forty times every morning, cure for fat lips. Caressing the little boy
<lb n="130903"/>too. Onlookers see most of the game. Of course they understand birds,
  <lb n="130904"/>animals, babies. In their line.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130905"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Didn't look back when she was going down the strand. Wouldn't give
<lb n="130906"/>that satisfaction. Those girls, those girls, those lovely seaside girls. Fine eyes
<lb n="130907"/>she had, clear. It's the white of the eye brings that out not so much the
<lb n="130908"/>pupil. Did she know what I? Course. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's
<lb n="130909"/>jump. Women never meet one like that Wilkins in the high school drawing a
<lb n="130910"/>picture of Venus with all his belongings on show. Call that innocence? Poor
<lb n="130911"/>idiot! His wife has her work cut out for her. Never see them sit on a bench
<lb n="130912"/>marked <emph>Wet Paint</emph>. Eyes all over them. Look under the bed for what's not
<lb n="130913"/>there. Longing to get the fright of their lives. Sharp as needles they are.
<lb n="130914"/>When I said to Molly the man at the corner of Cuffe street was
  <lb n="130915"/><distinct type="compound">goodlooking</distinct>, thought she might like, twigged at once he had a false arm.
<lb n="130916"/>Had, too. Where do they get that? Typist going up Roger Greene's stairs
<lb n="130917"/>two at a time to show her understandings. Handed down from father to,
<lb n="130918"/>mother to daughter, I mean. Bred in the bone. Milly for example drying her
<lb n="130919"/>handkerchief on the mirror to save the ironing. Best place for an ad to catch
<lb n="130920"/>a woman's eye on a mirror. And when I sent her for Molly's Paisley shawl
<lb n="130921"/>to Prescott's, by the way that ad I must, carrying home the change in her
<lb n="130922"/>stocking! Clever little minx. I never told her. Neat way she carries parcels
<lb n="130923"/>too. Attract men, small thing like that. Holding up her hand, shaking it, to
<lb n="130924"/>let the blood flow back when it was red. Who did you learn that from?
<lb n="130925"/>Nobody. Something the nurse taught me. O, don't they know! Three years
<lb n="130926"/>old she was in front of Molly's <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">dressingtable</distinct>, just before we left Lombard
<lb n="130927"/>street west. <emph>Me have a nice pace.</emph> Mullingar. Who knows? Ways of the
<lb n="130928"/>world. Young student. Straight on her pins anyway not like the other. Still
<lb n="130929"/>she was game. Lord, I am wet. Devil you are. Swell of her calf. Transparent
<lb n="130930"/>stockings, stretched to breaking point. Not like that frump today. A. E.
<lb n="130931"/>Rumpled stockings. Or the one in Grafton street. White. Wow! Beef to the
  <lb n="130932"/>heel.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130933"/>A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Zrads
<lb n="130934"/>and zrads, zrads, zrads. And Cissy and Tommy and Jacky ran out to see
  <lb n="130935"/>and Edy after with the <distinct type="dialect">pushcar</distinct> and then Gerty beyond the curve of the
<lb n="130936"/>rocks. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Will she? Watch! Watch! See! Looked round. She smelt an onion.
  <lb n="130937"/>Darling, I saw, your. I saw all.</said></p>
  <p><lb n="130938"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Lord!</said></p>
<p><lb n="130939"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Did me good all the same. Off colour after Kiernan's, Dignam's. For
<lb n="130940"/>this relief much thanks. In <title type="play">Hamlet</title>, that is. Lord! It was all things
<lb n="130941"/>combined. Excitement. When she leaned back, felt an ache at the butt of my
<lb n="130942"/>tongue. Your head it simply swirls. He's right. Might have made a worse
<lb n="130943"/>fool of myself however. Instead of talking about nothing. Then I will tell
<lb n="130944"/>you all. Still it was a kind of language between us. It couldn't be? No, Gerty
<lb n="130945"/>they called her. Might be false name however like my name and the address
  <lb n="130946"/>Dolphin's barn a blind.</said></p>
<quote><lg rend="italics"><lb n="130947"/><said who="lb" aloud="false"><l>Her maiden name was Jemina Brown</l>
  <lb n="130948"/><l>And she lived with her mother in Irishtown.</l></said></lg></quote>
<p><lb n="130949"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Place made me think of that I suppose. All tarred with the same
<lb n="130950"/>brush. Wiping pens in their stockings. But the ball rolled down to her as if it
<lb n="130951"/>understood. Every bullet has its billet. Course I never could throw anything
<lb n="130952"/>straight at school. Crooked as a ram's horn. Sad however because it lasts
<lb n="130953"/>only a few years till they settle down to <distinct type="compound">potwalloping</distinct> and papa's pants will
<lb n="130954"/>soon fit Willy and fuller's earth for the baby when they hold him out to do
<lb n="130955"/>ah ah. No soft job. Saves them. Keeps them out of harm's way. Nature.
<lb n="130956"/>Washing child, washing corpse. Dignam. Children's hands always round
<lb n="130957"/>them. Cocoanut skulls, monkeys, not even closed at first, sour milk in their
<lb n="130958"/>swaddles and tainted curds. Oughtn't to have given that child an empty teat
<lb n="130959"/>to suck. Fill it up with wind. Mrs Beaufoy, Purefoy. Must call to the
<lb n="130960"/>hospital. Wonder is nurse Callan there still. She used to look over some
<lb n="130961"/>nights when Molly was in the Coffee Palace. That young doctor O'Hare I
<lb n="130962"/>noticed her brushing his coat. And Mrs Breen and Mrs Dignam once like
<lb n="130963"/>that too, marriageable. Worst of all at night Mrs Duggan told me in the City
<lb n="130964"/>Arms. Husband rolling in drunk, stink of pub off him like a polecat. Have
<lb n="130965"/>that in your nose in the dark, whiff of stale boose. Then ask in the morning:
<lb n="130966"/>was I drunk last night? Bad policy however to fault the husband. Chickens
<lb n="130967"/>come home to roost. They stick by one another like glue. Maybe the
<lb n="130968"/>women's fault also. That's where Molly can knock spots off them. It's the
<lb n="130969"/>blood of the south. Moorish. Also the form, the figure. Hands felt for the
<lb n="130970"/>opulent. Just compare for instance those others. Wife locked up at home,
<lb n="130971"/>skeleton in the cupboard. Allow me to introduce my. Then they trot you out
<lb n="130972"/>some kind of a nondescript, wouldn't know what to call her. Always see a
<lb n="130973"/>fellow's weak point in his wife. Still there's destiny in it, falling in love.
<lb n="130974"/>Have their own secrets between them. Chaps that would go to the dogs if
<lb n="130975"/>some woman didn't take them in hand. Then little chits of girls, height of a
<lb n="130976"/>shilling in coppers, with little hubbies. As God made them he matched them.
<lb n="130977"/>Sometimes children turn out well enough. Twice <distinct type="dialect">nought</distinct> makes one. Or old
<lb n="130978"/>rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. Marry in May and repent in
<lb n="130979"/>December. This wet is very unpleasant. Stuck. Well the foreskin is not back.
  <lb n="130980"/>Better detach.</said></p>
  <p><lb n="130981"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Ow!</said></p>
<p><lb n="130982"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Other hand a <distinct type="compound">sixfooter</distinct> with a <distinct type="dialect">wifey</distinct> up to his <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">watchpocket</distinct>. Long and
<lb n="130983"/>the short of it. Big he and little she. Very strange about my watch.
<lb n="130984"/>Wristwatches are always going wrong. Wonder is there any magnetic
<lb n="130985"/>influence between the person because that was about the time he. Yes, I
<lb n="130986"/>suppose, at once. Cat's away, the mice will play. I remember looking in Pill
<lb n="130987"/>lane. Also that now is magnetism. Back of everything magnetism. Earth for
<lb n="130988"/>instance pulling this and being pulled. That causes movement. And time,
<lb n="130989"/>well that's the time the movement takes. Then if one thing stopped the
  <lb n="130990"/>whole <distinct type="dialect">ghesabo</distinct> would stop bit by bit. Because it's all arranged. Magnetic
<lb n="130991"/>needle tells you what's going on in the sun, the stars. Little piece of steel
<lb n="130992"/>iron. When you hold out the fork. Come. Come. Tip. Woman and man that
<lb n="130993"/>is. Fork and steel. Molly, he. Dress up and look and suggest and let you see
<lb n="130994"/>and see more and defy you if you're a man to see that and, like a sneeze
<lb n="130995"/>coming, legs, look, look and if you have any guts in you. Tip. Have to let
  <lb n="130996"/>fly.</said></p>
<p><lb n="130997"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Wonder how is she feeling in that region. Shame all put on before
<lb n="130998"/>third person. More put out about a hole in her stocking. Molly, her
  <lb n="130999"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">underjaw</distinct> stuck out, head back, about the farmer in the <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">ridingboots</distinct> and
<lb n="131000"/>spurs at the horse show. And when the painters were in Lombard street
<lb n="131001"/>west. Fine voice that fellow had. How Giuglini began. Smell that I did. Like
<lb n="131002"/>flowers. It was too. Violets. Came from the turpentine probably in the
<lb n="131003"/>paint. Make their own use of everything. Same time doing it scraped her
<lb n="131004"/>slipper on the floor so they wouldn't hear. But lots of them can't kick the
<lb n="131005"/>beam, I think. Keep that thing up for hours. Kind of a general all round
  <lb n="131006"/>over me and half down my back.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131007"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Wait. Hm. Hm. Yes. That's her perfume. Why she waved her hand. I
<lb n="131008"/>leave you this to think of me when I'm far away on the pillow. What is it?
<lb n="131009"/>Heliotrope? No. Hyacinth? Hm. Roses, I think. She'd like scent of that
<lb n="131010"/>kind. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Why Molly likes opoponax. Suits her,
<lb n="131011"/>with a little jessamine mixed. Her high notes and her low notes. At the
<lb n="131012"/>dance night she met him, dance of the hours. Heat brought it out. She was
<lb n="131013"/>wearing her black and it had the perfume of the time before. Good
<lb n="131014"/>conductor, is it? Or bad? Light too. Suppose there's some connection. For
<lb n="131015"/>instance if you go into a cellar where it's dark. Mysterious thing too. Why
<lb n="131016"/>did I smell it only now? Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure.
<lb n="131017"/>Suppose it's ever so many millions of tiny grains blown across. Yes, it is.
<lb n="131018"/>Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this morning, smell them leagues
<lb n="131019"/>off. Tell you what it is. It's like a fine fine veil or web they have all over the
<lb n="131020"/>skin, fine like what do you call it gossamer, and they're always spinning it
<lb n="131021"/>out of them, fine as anything, like rainbow colours without knowing it.
<lb n="131022"/>Clings to everything she takes off. Vamp of her stockings. Warm shoe.
<lb n="131023"/>Stays. Drawers: little kick, taking them off. Byby till next time. Also the cat
<lb n="131024"/>likes to sniff in her shift on the bed. Know her smell in a thousand.
<lb n="131025"/>Bathwater too. Reminds me of strawberries and cream. Wonder where it is
<lb n="131026"/>really. There or the armpits or under the neck. Because you get it out of all
<lb n="131027"/>holes and corners. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something.
<lb n="131028"/>Muskrat. Bag under their tails. One grain pour off odour for years. Dogs at
<lb n="131029"/>each other behind. Good evening. Evening. How do you sniff? Hm. Hm.
<lb n="131030"/>Very well, thank you. Animals go by that. Yes now, look at it that way.
<lb n="131031"/>We're the same. Some women, instance, warn you off when they have their
<lb n="131032"/>period. Come near. Then get a hogo you could hang your hat on. Like
  <lb n="131033"/>what? Potted herrings gone stale or. Boof! Please keep off the grass.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131034"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Perhaps they get a man smell off us. What though? Cigary gloves long
<lb n="131035"/>John had on his desk the other day. Breath? What you eat and drink gives
  <lb n="131036"/>that. No. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Mansmell</distinct>, I mean. Must be connected with that because priests
<lb n="131037"/>that are supposed to be are different. Women buzz round it like flies round
<lb n="131038"/>treacle. Railed off the altar get on to it at any cost. The tree of forbidden
<lb n="131039"/>priest. O, father, will you? Let me be the first to. That diffuses itself all
<lb n="131040"/>through the body, permeates. Source of life. And it's extremely curious the
  <lb n="131041"/>smell. Celery sauce. Let me.</said></p>
  <p><lb n="131042"/>Mr Bloom inserted his nose. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Hm.</said> Into the. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Hm.</said> Opening of his
<lb n="131043"/>waistcoat. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Almonds or. No. Lemons it is. Ah no, that's the soap.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131044"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">O by the by that lotion. I knew there was something on my mind.
<lb n="131045"/>Never went back and the soap not paid. Dislike carrying bottles like that
<lb n="131046"/>hag this morning. Hynes might have paid me that three shillings. I could
<lb n="131047"/>mention Meagher's just to remind him. Still if he works that paragraph.
<lb n="131048"/>Two and nine. Bad opinion of me he'll have. Call tomorrow. How much do
<lb n="131049"/>I owe you? Three and nine? Two and nine, sir. Ah. Might stop him giving
<lb n="131050"/>credit another time. Lose your customers that way. Pubs do. Fellows run up
<lb n="131051"/>a bill on the slate and then slinking around the back streets into somewhere
  <lb n="131052"/>else.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131053"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Here's this nobleman passed before. Blown in from the bay. Just went
<lb n="131054"/>as far as turn back. Always at home at dinnertime. Looks mangled out: had
<lb n="131055"/>a good tuck in. Enjoying nature now. Grace after meals. After supper walk
<lb n="131056"/>a mile. Sure he has a small bank balance somewhere, government sit. Walk
<lb n="131057"/>after him now make him awkward like those newsboys me today. Still you
<lb n="131058"/>learn something. See ourselves as others see us. So long as women don't
<lb n="131059"/>mock what matter? That's the way to find out. Ask yourself who is he now.
<lb n="131060"/><title type="short story">The Mystery Man on the Beach</title>, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom.
<lb n="131061"/>Payment at the rate of one guinea per column. And that fellow today at the
<lb n="131062"/>graveside in the brown macintosh. Corns on his kismet however. Healthy
<lb n="131063"/>perhaps absorb all the. Whistle brings rain they say. Must be some
<lb n="131064"/>somewhere. Salt in the Ormond damp. The body feels the atmosphere. Old
<lb n="131065"/>Betty's joints are on the rack. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is about
<lb n="131066"/>ships around they fly in the twinkling. No. Signs of rain it is. The royal
  <lb n="131067"/>reader. And distant hills seem coming nigh.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131068"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Howth. Bailey light. Two, four, six, eight, nine. See. Has to change or
<lb n="131069"/>they might think it a house. Wreckers. Grace Darling. People afraid of the
  <lb n="131070"/>dark. Also <distinct type="compound">glowworms</distinct>, cyclists: <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">lightingup</distinct> time. Jewels diamonds flash
<lb n="131071"/>better. Women. Light is a kind of reassuring. Not going to hurt you. Better
<lb n="131072"/>now of course than long ago. Country roads. Run you through the small
<lb n="131073"/>guts for nothing. Still two types there are you bob against. Scowl or smile.
<lb n="131074"/>Pardon! Not at all. Best time to spray plants too in the shade after the sun.
<lb n="131075"/>Some light still. Red rays are longest. Roygbiv Vance taught us: red,
<lb n="131076"/>orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. A star I see. Venus? Can't tell yet.
<lb n="131077"/>Two. When three it's night. Were those <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">nightclouds</distinct> there all the time?
<lb n="131078"/>Looks like a phantom ship. No. Wait. Trees are they? An optical illusion.
<lb n="131079"/>Mirage. Land of the setting sun this. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Homerule</distinct> sun setting in the southeast.
  <lb n="131080"/>My native land, goodnight.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131081"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Dew falling. Bad for you, dear, to sit on that stone. Brings on white
<lb n="131082"/>fluxions. Never have little baby then less he was big strong fight his way up
<lb n="131083"/>through. Might get piles myself. Sticks too like a summer cold, sore on the
<lb n="131084"/>mouth. Cut with grass or paper worst. Friction of the position. Like to be
<lb n="131085"/>that rock she sat on. O sweet little, you don't know how nice you looked. I
<lb n="131086"/>begin to like them at that age. Green apples. Grab at all that offer. Suppose
<lb n="131087"/>it's the only time we cross legs, seated. Also the library today: those girl
<lb n="131088"/>graduates. Happy chairs under them. But it's the evening influence. They
<lb n="131089"/>feel all that. Open like flowers, know their hours, sunflowers, Jerusalem
<lb n="131090"/>artichokes, in ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the lamps. <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">Nightstock</distinct>
<lb n="131091"/>in Mat Dillon's garden where I kissed her shoulder. Wish I had a full length
  <lb n="131092"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">oilpainting</distinct> of her then. June that was too I wooed. The year returns.
<lb n="131093"/>History repeats itself. Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. Life,
<lb n="131094"/>love, voyage round your own little world. And now? Sad about her lame of
<lb n="131095"/>course but must be on your guard not to feel too much pity. They take
  <lb n="131096"/>advantage.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131097"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">All quiet on Howth now. The distant hills seem. Where we. The
<lb n="131098"/>rhododendrons. I am a fool perhaps. He gets the plums, and I the
  <lb n="131099"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">plumstones</distinct>. Where I come in. All that old hill has seen. Names change:
  <lb n="131100"/>that's all. Lovers: yum yum.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131101"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Tired I feel now. Will I get up? O wait. Drained all the manhood out
<lb n="131102"/>of me, little wretch. She kissed me. Never again. My youth. Only once it
<lb n="131103"/>comes. Or hers. Take the train there tomorrow. No. Returning not the
<lb n="131104"/>same. Like kids your second visit to a house. The new I want. Nothing new
<lb n="131105"/>under the sun. Care of P. O. Dolphin's Barn. Are you not happy in your?
<lb n="131106"/>Naughty darling. At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. Mat
<lb n="131107"/>Dillon and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty.
  <lb n="131108"/>Molly too. <distinct type="compound">Eightyseven</distinct> that was. Year before we. And the old major, partial
<lb n="131109"/>to his drop of spirits. Curious she an only child, I an only child. So it
<lb n="131110"/>returns. Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is
<lb n="131111"/>the shortest way home. And just when he and she. Circus horse walking in
<lb n="131112"/>a ring. Rip van Winkle we played. Rip: tear in Henny Doyle's overcoat.
  <lb n="131113"/>Van: <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">breadvan</distinct> delivering. Winkle: cockles and periwinkles. Then I did Rip
<lb n="131114"/>van Winkle coming back. She leaned on the sideboard watching. Moorish
<lb n="131115"/>eyes. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. All changed. Forgotten. The
  <lb n="131116"/>young are old. His gun rusty from the dew.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131117"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Ba. What is that flying about? Swallow? Bat probably. Thinks I'm a
<lb n="131118"/>tree, so blind. Have birds no smell? Metempsychosis. They believed you
<lb n="131119"/>could be changed into a tree from grief. Weeping willow. Ba. There he goes.
<lb n="131120"/>Funny little beggar. Wonder where he lives. Belfry up there. Very likely.
<lb n="131121"/>Hanging by his heels in the odour of sanctity. Bell scared him out, I
<lb n="131122"/>suppose. Mass seems to be over. Could hear them all at it. Pray for us. And
<lb n="131123"/>pray for us. And pray for us. Good idea the repetition. Same thing with ads.
<lb n="131124"/>Buy from us. And buy from us. Yes, there's the light in the priest's house.
<lb n="131125"/>Their frugal meal. Remember about the mistake in the valuation when I
  <lb n="131126"/>was in Thom's. <distinct type="compound">Twentyeight</distinct> it is. Two houses they have. Gabriel Conroy's
<lb n="131127"/>brother is curate. Ba. Again. Wonder why they come out at night like mice.
<lb n="131128"/>They're a mixed breed. Birds are like hopping mice. What frightens them,
<lb n="131129"/>light or noise? Better sit still. All instinct like the bird in <distinct type="dialect">drouth</distinct> got water
<lb n="131130"/>out of the end of a jar by throwing in pebbles. Like a little man in a cloak he
<lb n="131131"/>is with tiny hands. Weeny bones. Almost see them shimmering, kind of a
<lb n="131132"/>bluey white. Colours depend on the light you see. Stare the sun for example
<lb n="131133"/>like the eagle then look at a shoe see a blotch blob yellowish. Wants to
<lb n="131134"/>stamp his trademark on everything. Instance, that cat this morning on the
<lb n="131135"/>staircase. Colour of brown turf. Say you never see them with three colours.
  <lb n="131136"/>Not true. That half <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">tabbywhite</distinct> tortoiseshell in the City Arms with the letter
<lb n="131137"/>em on her forehead. Body fifty different colours. Howth a while ago
<lb n="131138"/>amethyst. Glass flashing. That's how that wise man what's his name with
<lb n="131139"/>the burning glass. Then the heather goes on fire. It can't be tourists'
<lb n="131140"/>matches. What? Perhaps the sticks dry rub together in the wind and light.
<lb n="131141"/>Or broken bottles in the furze act as a burning glass in the sun.
  <lb n="131142"/>Archimedes. I have it! My memory's not so bad.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131143"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Ba. Who knows what they're always flying for. Insects? That bee last
<lb n="131144"/>week got into the room playing with his shadow on the ceiling. Might be the
<lb n="131145"/>one bit me, come back to see. Birds too. Never find out. Or what they say.
<lb n="131146"/>Like our small talk. And says she and says he. Nerve they have to fly over
<lb n="131147"/>the ocean and back. Lots must be killed in storms, telegraph wires.
<lb n="131148"/>Dreadful life sailors have too. Big brutes of oceangoing steamers
<lb n="131149"/>floundering along in the dark, lowing out like <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">seacows</distinct>. <foreign xml:lang="ga">Faugh a ballagh!</foreign>
<lb n="131150"/>Out of that, bloody curse to you! Others in vessels, bit of a handkerchief
<lb n="131151"/>sail, pitched about like snuff at a wake when the stormy winds do blow.
<lb n="131152"/>Married too. Sometimes away for years at the ends of the earth somewhere.
<lb n="131153"/>No ends really because it's round. Wife in every port they say. She has a
<lb n="131154"/>good job if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. If ever he
<lb n="131155"/>does. Smelling the tail end of ports. How can they like the sea? Yet they do.
<lb n="131156"/>The anchor's weighed. Off he sails with a scapular or a medal on him for
  <lb n="131157"/>luck. Well. And the <distinct type="Joycean">tephilim</distinct> no what's this they call it poor papa's father
<lb n="131158"/>had on his door to touch. That brought us out of the land of Egypt and into
<lb n="131159"/>the house of bondage. Something in all those superstitions because when
<lb n="131160"/>you go out never know what dangers. Hanging on to a plank or astride of a
<lb n="131161"/>beam for grim life, lifebelt round him, gulping salt water, and that's the last
  <lb n="131162"/>of his nibs till the sharks catch hold of him. Do fish ever get seasick?</said></p>
<p><lb n="131163"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid,
<lb n="131164"/>crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so
  <lb n="131165"/>peaceful. Not my fault, old cockalorum.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131166"/>A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from Mirus bazaar in search
<lb n="131167"/>of funds for Mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and shed a cluster of
<lb n="131168"/>violet but one white stars. They floated, fell: they faded. The shepherd's
<lb n="131169"/>hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst. From house to house, giving his
  <lb n="131170"/><distinct type="nonstandard-compound">everwelcome</distinct> double knock, went the nine o'clock postman, the
  <lb n="131171"/><distinct type="compound">glowworm's</distinct> lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel
<lb n="131172"/>hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at
<lb n="131173"/>Leahy's terrace. By screens of lighted windows, by equal gardens a shrill
<lb n="131174"/>voice went crying, wailing: <said who="uns" direct="false" rend="italics"><title type="newspaper">Evening Telegraph</title>, stop press edition! Result of
<lb n="131175"/>the Gold Cup races!</said> and from the door of Dignam's house a boy ran out
<lb n="131176"/>and called. Twittering the bat flew here, flew there. Far out over the sands
<lb n="131177"/>the coming surf crept, grey. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days,
<lb n="131178"/>of yumyum rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night breeze
<lb n="131179"/>lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and
<lb n="131180"/>slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. And far on Kish bank the
<lb n="131181"/>anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr Bloom.</p>
<p><lb n="131182"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Life those chaps out there must have, stuck in the same spot. Irish
<lb n="131183"/>Lights board. Penance for their sins. Coastguards too. Rocket and breeches
<lb n="131184"/>buoy and lifeboat. Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in the <name type="ship">Erin's
<lb n="131185"/>King</name>, throwing them the sack of old papers. Bears in the zoo. Filthy trip.
<lb n="131186"/>Drunkards out to shake up their livers. Puking overboard to feed the
<lb n="131187"/>herrings. Nausea. And the women, fear of God in their faces. Milly, no sign
<lb n="131188"/>of funk. Her blue scarf loose, laughing. Don't know what death is at that
<lb n="131189"/>age. And then their stomachs clean. But being lost they fear. When we hid
<lb n="131190"/>behind the tree at Crumlin. I didn't want to. Mamma! Mamma! Babes in
<lb n="131191"/>the wood. Frightening them with masks too. Throwing them up in the air to
<lb n="131192"/>catch them. I'll murder you. Is it only half fun? Or children playing battle.
<lb n="131193"/>Whole earnest. How can people aim guns at each other. Sometimes they go
<lb n="131194"/>off. Poor kids! Only troubles wildfire and <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">nettlerash</distinct>. Calomel purge I got
<lb n="131195"/>her for that. After getting better asleep with Molly. Very same teeth she has.
<lb n="131196"/>What do they love? Another themselves? But the morning she chased her
<lb n="131197"/>with the umbrella. Perhaps so as not to hurt. I felt her pulse. Ticking. Little
<lb n="131198"/>hand it was: now big. Dearest Papli. All that the hand says when you touch.
<lb n="131199"/>Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Her first stays I remember. Made me
<lb n="131200"/>laugh to see. Little paps to begin with. Left one is more sensitive, I think.
<lb n="131201"/>Mine too. Nearer the heart? Padding themselves out if fat is in fashion. Her
<lb n="131202"/>growing pains at night, calling, wakening me. Frightened she was when her
<lb n="131203"/>nature came on her first. Poor child! Strange moment for the mother too.
<lb n="131204"/>Brings back her girlhood. Gibraltar. Looking from Buena Vista. O'Hara's
<lb n="131205"/>tower. The seabirds screaming. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his family.
<lb n="131206"/>Sundown, gunfire for the men to cross the lines. Looking out over the sea
<lb n="131207"/>she told me. Evening like this, but clear, no clouds. I always thought I'd
<lb n="131208"/>marry a lord or a rich gentleman coming with a private yacht. <foreign xml:lang="es">Buenas
<lb n="131209"/>noches, señorita. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa.</foreign> Why me? Because
  <lb n="131210"/>you were so foreign from the others.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131211"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Better not stick here all night like a limpet. This weather makes you
<lb n="131212"/>dull. Must be getting on for nine by the light. Go home. Too late for <title type="play">Leah</title>.
<lb n="131213"/><title type="opera">Lily of Killarney.</title> No. Might be still up. Call to the hospital to see. Hope
<lb n="131214"/>she's over. Long day I've had. Martha, the bath, funeral, house of Keyes,
<lb n="131215"/>museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. Then that bawler in Barney
<lb n="131216"/>Kiernan's. Got my own back there. Drunken ranters what I said about his
<lb n="131217"/>God made him wince. Mistake to hit back. Or? No. Ought to go home and
<lb n="131218"/>laugh at themselves. Always want to be swilling in company. Afraid to be
<lb n="131219"/>alone like a child of two. Suppose he hit me. Look at it other way round.
<lb n="131220"/>Not so bad then. Perhaps not to hurt he meant. Three cheers for Israel.
<lb n="131221"/>Three cheers for the sister-in-law he hawked about, three fangs in her
<lb n="131222"/>mouth. Same style of beauty. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea.
<lb n="131223"/>The sister of the wife of the wild man of Borneo has just come to town.
<lb n="131224"/>Imagine that in the early morning at close range. Everyone to his taste as
<lb n="131225"/>Morris said when he kissed the cow. But Dignam's put the boots on it.
<lb n="131226"/>Houses of mourning so depressing because you never know. Anyhow she
<lb n="131227"/>wants the money. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I promised.
<lb n="131228"/>Strange name. Takes it for granted we're going to pop off first. That widow
<lb n="131229"/>on Monday was it outside Cramer's that looked at me. Buried the poor
<lb n="131230"/>husband but progressing favourably on the premium. Her widow's mite.
<lb n="131231"/>Well? What do you expect her to do? Must wheedle her way along.
<lb n="131232"/>Widower I hate to see. Looks so forlorn. Poor man O'Connor wife and five
<lb n="131233"/>children poisoned by mussels here. The sewage. Hopeless. Some good
<lb n="131234"/>matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter
<lb n="131235"/>face and a large apron. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a
<lb n="131236"/>pair, astonishing bargain. Plain and loved, loved for ever, they say. Ugly:
<lb n="131237"/>no woman thinks she is. Love, lie and be handsome for tomorrow we die.
<lb n="131238"/>See him sometimes walking about trying to find out who played the trick.
<lb n="131239"/>U. p: up. Fate that is. He, not me. Also a shop often noticed. Curse seems to
<lb n="131240"/>dog it. Dreamt last night? Wait. Something confused. She had red slippers
<lb n="131241"/>on. Turkish. Wore the breeches. Suppose she does? Would I like her in
<lb n="131242"/>pyjamas? Damned hard to answer. Nannetti's gone. Mailboat. Near
<lb n="131243"/>Holyhead by now. Must nail that ad of Keyes's. Work Hynes and
<lb n="131244"/>Crawford. Petticoats for Molly. She has something to put in them. What's
  <lb n="131245"/>that? Might be money.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131246"/>Mr Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of paper on the strand. He
<lb n="131247"/>brought it near his eyes and peered. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Letter? No. Can't read. Better go.
<lb n="131248"/>Better. I'm tired to move. Page of an old copybook. All those holes and
<lb n="131249"/>pebbles. Who could count them? Never know what you find. Bottle with
<lb n="131250"/>story of a treasure in it, thrown from a wreck. Parcels post. Children
<lb n="131251"/>always want to throw things in the sea. Trust? Bread cast on the waters.
  <lb n="131252"/>What's this? Bit of stick.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131253"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">O! Exhausted that female has me. Not so young now. Will she come
<lb n="131254"/>here tomorrow? Wait for her somewhere for ever. Must come back.
  <lb n="131255"/>Murderers do. Will I?</said></p>
<p><lb n="131256"/>Mr Bloom with his stick gently vexed the thick sand at his foot. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Write
  <lb n="131257"/>a message for her. Might remain. What?</said></p>
<p><lb n="131258"/>I.</p>
<p><lb n="131259"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Some flatfoot tramp on it in the morning. Useless. Washed away. Tide
<lb n="131260"/>comes here. Saw a pool near her foot. Bend, see my face there, dark mirror,
<lb n="131261"/>breathe on it, stirs. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. O, those
<lb n="131262"/>transparent! Besides they don't know. What is the meaning of that other
  <lb n="131263"/>world. I called you naughty boy because I do not like.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131264"/>AM. A.</p>
  <p><lb n="131265"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">No room. Let it go.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131266"/>Mr Bloom effaced the letters with his slow boot. <said who="lb" aloud="false">Hopeless thing sand.
<lb n="131267"/>Nothing grows in it. All fades. No fear of big vessels coming up here.
<lb n="131268"/>Except Guinness's barges. Round the Kish in eighty days. Done half by
  <lb n="131269"/>design.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131270"/>He flung his wooden pen away. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck.
<lb n="131271"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Now if you were trying to do that for a week on end you couldn't. Chance.
<lb n="131272"/>We'll never meet again. But it was lovely. Goodbye, dear. Thanks. Made me
  <lb n="131273"/>feel so young.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131274"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Short snooze now if I had. Must be near nine. Liverpool boat long
<lb n="131275"/>gone. Not even the smoke. And she can do the other. Did too. And Belfast.
<lb n="131276"/>I won't go. Race there, race back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes a
<lb n="131277"/>moment. Won't sleep, though. Half dream. It never comes the same. Bat
  <lb n="131278"/>again. No harm in him. Just a few.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131279"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">O sweety all your little <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">girlwhite</distinct> up I saw dirty <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">bracegirdle</distinct> made me
<lb n="131280"/>do love sticky we two naughty Grace darling she him half past the bed met
  <lb n="131281"/>him pike hoses <distinct type="dialect">frillies</distinct> for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave
<lb n="131282"/>under embon <foreign xml:lang="es">señorita</foreign> young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">breadvan</distinct> Winkle
<lb n="131283"/>red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end
<lb n="131284"/>Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in
  <lb n="131285"/>her next her next.</said></p>
<p><lb n="131286"/>A bat flew. Here. There. Here. Far in the grey a bell chimed. Mr
<lb n="131287"/>Bloom with open mouth, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed.
  <lb n="131288"/><said who="lb" aloud="false">Just for a few</said></p>
<lg rend="italics"><lb n="131289"/><l>Cuckoo</l>
<lb n="131290"/><l>Cuckoo</l>
<lb n="131291"/><l>Cuckoo.</l></lg>
<p><lb n="131292"/>The clock on the mantelpiece in the priest's house cooed where Canon
<lb n="131293"/>O'Hanlon and Father Conroy and the reverend John Hughes S. J. were
  <lb n="131294"/>taking tea and <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">sodabread</distinct> and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup
<lb n="131295"/>and talking about
<lg rend="italics"><lb n="131296"/><l>Cuckoo</l>
<lb n="131297"/><l>Cuckoo</l>
<lb n="131298"/><l>Cuckoo</l></lg>
  <lb n="131299"/>because it was a little <distinct type="nonstandard-compound">canarybird</distinct> that came out of its little house to tell the
<lb n="131300"/>time that Gerty MacDowell noticed the time she was there because she was
<lb n="131301"/>as quick as anything about a thing like that, was Gerty MacDowell, and she
<lb n="131302"/>noticed at once that that foreign gentleman that was sitting on the rocks
<lb n="131303"/>looking was</p>
<lg rend="italics"><lb n="131304"/><l>Cuckoo</l>
<lb n="131305"/><l>Cuckoo</l>
<lb n="131306"/><l>Cuckoo.</l></lg>
</div> <!-- End of Episode 13, "Nausicaa" -->