Page 392 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

—The most innocent son of Erin, Stephen said, for
whom they ever lifted them.
About to pass through the doorway, feeling one
behind, he stood aside.

Part. The moment is now. Where then? If Socrates
leave his house today, if Judas go forth tonight. Why?
That lies in space which I in time must come to,
ineluctably.
My will: his will that fronts me. Seas between.
A man passed out between them, bowing, greeting.
—Good day again, Buck Mulligan said.
The portico.
Here I watched the birds for augury. Aengus of the
birds. They go, they come. Last night I flew. Easily flew.
Men wondered. Street of harlots after. A creamfruit melon
he held to me. In. You will see.
—The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan whispered with
clown’s awe. Did you see his eye? He looked upon you to
lust after you. I fear thee, ancient mariner. O, Kinch, thou
art in peril. Get thee a breechpad.
Manner of Oxenford.
Day. Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge.
A dark back went before them, step of a pard, down,
out by the gateway, under portcullis barbs.

391 of 1305