Page 361 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

—This gentleman? Freeman’s Journal? Kilkenny People?
To be sure. Good day, sir. Kilkenny ... We have certainly
...

A patient silhouette waited, listening.
—All the leading provincial ... Northern Whig, Cork
Examiner, Enniscorthy Guardian, 1903 ... Will you please?
... Evans, conduct this gentleman ... If you just follow the
atten ... Or, please allow me ... This way ... Please, sir ...
Voluble, dutiful, he led the way to all the provincial
papers, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels.
The door closed.
—The sheeny! Buck Mulligan cried.
He jumped up and snatched the card.
—What’s his name? Ikey Moses? Bloom.
He rattled on:
—Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is no more. I found
him over in the museum where I went to hail the
foamborn Aphrodite. The Greek mouth that has never
been twisted in prayer. Every day we must do homage to
her. Life of life, thy lips enkindle.
Suddenly he turned to Stephen:
—He knows you. He knows your old fellow. O, I fear
me, he is Greeker than the Greeks. His pale Galilean eyes

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