Page 198 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

hid all your life. The death struggle. His sleep is not
natural. Press his lower eyelid. Watching is his nose
pointed is his jaw sinking are the soles of his feet yellow.
Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the floor since

he’s doomed. Devil in that picture of sinner’s death
showing him a woman. Dying to embrace her in his shirt.
Last act of Lucia. Shall i nevermore behold thee? Bam! He
expires. Gone at last. People talk about you a bit: forget
you. Don’t forget to pray for him. Remember him in
your prayers. Even Parnell. Ivy day dying out. Then they
follow: dropping into a hole, one after the other.
We are praying now for the repose of his soul. Hoping
you’re well and not in hell. Nice change of air. Out of the
fryingpan of life into the fire of purgatory.
Does he ever think of the hole waiting for himself?
They say you do when you shiver in the sun. Someone
walking over it. Callboy’s warning. Near you. Mine over
there towards Finglas, the plot I bought. Mamma, poor
mamma, and little Rudy.
The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy
clods of clay in on the coffin. Mr Bloom turned away his
face. And if he was alive all the time? Whew! By jingo,
that would be awful! No, no: he is dead, of course. Of
course he is dead. Monday he died. They ought to have

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