Page 989 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

mouth near the face of the prostrate form) Stephen! (There is no
answer. He calls again.) Stephen!
STEPHEN: (Groans) Who? Black panther. Vampire.

(He sighs and stretches himself, then murmurs thickly with
prolonged vowels)

Who ... drive... Fergus now
And pierce ... wood’s woven shade? ...

(He turns on his left side, sighing, doubling himself together.)
BLOOM: Poetry. Well educated. Pity. (He bends again
and undoes the buttons of Stephen’s waistcoat) To breathe. (He
brushes the woodshavings from Stephen’s clothes with light hand

and fingers) One pound seven. Not hurt anyhow. (He
listens) What?
STEPHEN: (Murmurs)

... shadows ... the woods
... white breast... dim sea.

(He stretches out his arms, sighs again and curls his body.
Bloom, holding the hat and ashplant, stands erect. A dog barks
in the distance. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the
ashplant. He looks down on Stephen’s face and form.)

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