Page 922 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

VOICES: (Sighing) So he’s gone. Ah yes. Yes, indeed.
Bloom? Never heard of him. No? Queer kind of chap.
There’s the widow. That so? Ah, yes.

(From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends. The
pall of incense smoke screens and disperses. Out of her oakframe a
nymph with hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours,
descends from her grotto and passing under interlacing yews stands
over Bloom.)
THE YEWS: (Their leaves whispering) Sister. Our sister.
Ssh!
THE NYMPH: (Softly) Mortal! (Kindly) Nay, dost not
weepest!
BLOOM: (Crawls jellily forward under the boughs, streaked
by sunlight, with dignity) This position. I felt it was expected
of me. Force of habit.
THE NYMPH: Mortal! You found me in evil
company, highkickers, coster picnicmakers, pugilists,
popular generals, immoral panto boys in fleshtights and the
nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical act,
the hit of the century. I was hidden in cheap pink paper
that smelt of rock oil. I was surrounded by the stale smut
of clubmen, stories to disturb callow youth, ads for
transparencies, truedup dice and bustpads, proprietary

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