Page 502 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

God he never heard since love lives not a clinking voice lives
not ask Lambert he can tell you too.
Goulding, a flush struggling in his pale, told Mr Bloom,
face of the night, Si in Ned Lambert’s, Dedalus house,

sang ’Twas rank and fame.
He, Mr Bloom, listened while he, Richie Goulding,
told him, Mr Bloom, of the night he, Richie, heard him,
Si Dedalus, sing ‘TWAS RANK AND FAME in his, Ned
Lambert’s, house.
Brothers-in-law: relations. We never speak as we pass
by. Rift in the lute I think. Treats him with scorn. See.
He admires him all the more. The night Si sang. The
human voice, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than
all others.
That voice was a lamentation. Calmer now. It’s in the
silence after you feel you hear. Vibrations. Now silent air.
Bloom ungyved his crisscrossed hands and with slack
fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. He drew and
plucked. It buzz, it twanged. While Goulding talked of
Barraclough’s voice production, while Tom Kernan,
harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked
to listening Father Cowley, who played a voluntary, who
nodded as he played. While big Ben Dollard talked with

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