Page 788 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

grandest thing yet and don’t you forget it. Shout salvation
in King Jesus. You’ll need to rise precious early you sinner
there, if you want to diddle the Almighty God. Pflaaaap!
Not half. He’s got a coughmixture with a punch in it for

you, my friend, in his back pocket. Just you try it on.

* * * * *

The Mabbot street entrance of nighttown, before which
stretches an uncobbled tramsiding set with skeleton tracks, red and
green will-o’-the-wisps and danger signals. Rows of grimy houses
with gaping doors. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fins. Round

Rabaiotti’s halted ice gondola stunted men and women squabble.
They grab wafers between which are wedged lumps of coral and
copper snow. Sucking, they scatter slowly. Children. The
swancomb of the gondola, highreared, forges on through the murk,
white and blue under a lighthouse. Whistles call and answer.
THE CALLS: Wait, my love, and I’ll be with you.
THE ANSWERS: Round behind the stable.
(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, his shapeless mouth
dribbling, jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus’ dance. A chain of
children ‘s hands imprisons him.)
THE CHILDREN: Kithogue! Salute!

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