Independently Published, 13 jan. 2018 - 569 sidor
This is an annotated version of the book1. contains an updated biography of the author at the end of the book for a better understanding of the text.2. This book has been checked and corrected for spelling errorsStately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl oflather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown,ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. Heheld the bowl aloft and intoned:--Introibo ad altare Dei.Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:--Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced aboutand blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and theawaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he benttowards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throatand shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leanedhis arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shakinggurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the lightuntonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered thebowl smartly.--Back to barracks! he said sternly.He added in a preacher's tone:--For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and souland blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. Onemoment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then pausedawhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and therewith gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answeredthrough the calm.--Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch offthe current, will you?He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gatheringabout his legs the loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed face andsullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages.A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips.--The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek!He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet,laughing to himself. Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearilyhalfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still ashe propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl andlathered cheeks and neck.Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on.--My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has aHellenic ring, hasn't it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself.We must go to Athens. Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork outtwenty quid?He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried:--Will he come? The jejune jesuit!Ceasing, he began to shave with care.--Tell me, Mulligan, Stephen said quietly.--Yes, my love?--How long is Haines going to stay in this tower?Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder.--God, isn't he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. Hethinks you're not a gentleman. God, these bloody English! Burstingwith money and indigestion. Because he comes from Oxford. You know,Dedalus, you have the real Oxford manner. He can't make you out. O, myname for you is the best: Kinch, the knife-blade.He shaved warily over his chin.--He was raving all night about a black panther, Stephen said. Where ishis guncase?--A woful lunatic! Mulligan said. Were you in a funk?--I was, Stephen said with energy and growing fear. Out here in thedark with a man I don't know raving and moaning to himself aboutshooting a black panther. You saved men from drowning. I'm not a hero,however. If he stays on here I am off.Buck Mulligan frowned at the lather on his razorblade.
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