Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held 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 about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.
Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.
- Back to barracks, he said sternly.
Værdigt trandte den trivelige Buck Mulligan frem fra den overste trappeafsats; han bar en sæbeskaal, paa hvilken et spejl og en barberkniv laa over kors. En gul, snorlos slaabrok belgede let efter ham i den milde morgenbrise. Han loftede skanlen og intonerede:
- Introibo ad altare Dei.
Han var standset og kiggede ned ad den skumle vindeltrappe og raabte med grov stemme:
- Kom op, Kinch. Kom op, du skrækkelige jesuit!
Højtideligt skred han videre og steg op paa den runde kanonplatform. Han vendte sig om og velsignede alvorligt tre gange taarnet, det omliggende land og de vaagnende bjerge. Nu fik han oje paa Stephen Dedalus, bojede sig for ham og gjorde hastige korstegn i luften, mens han udstødte gurglende lyde og rystede paa hovedet. Stephen Dedalus, som var irriteret herover og sovnig, hvilede armene paa vindeltrappens overste afsats og saa koldt paa det rystende og hesteagtigt gurglende, aflange ansigt, som velsignede ham, og paa det lyse, uregelmæssigt egetræsgule haar uden tonsur.
Buck Mulligan kiggede et øjeblik under spejlet og lagde det derpaa hurtigt tilbage paa skaalen.
-Ned i kassen! sagde han strengt.
Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods’ roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.
Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly, righting her breakfast things on the humpy tray. Gelid light and air were in the kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. Made him feel a bit peckish.
The coals were reddening.
Another slice of bread and butter: three, four: right. She didn’t like her plate full. Right. He turned from the tray, lifted the kettle off the hob and set it sideways on the fire. It sat there, dull and squat, its spout stuck out. Cup of tea soon. Good. Mouth dry. The cat walked stiffly round a leg of the table with tail on high.
- Mkgnao!
Mr. Leopold Bloom spiste med velbehag indre organer af dyr og fugle. Han holdt af tyk kødsuppe, lækre kraaser, et fyldt, stegt hjerte, panerede leverskiver, ristet torskerogn. Mest af alt holdt han af grilleret lammenyre, der lod hans gane fornemme en fin aroma af svagt duftende urin.
Nyrer optog hans tanke, mens han sagte puslede rundt i køkkenet og rettede hendes morgenmaaltid an paa den bulede bakke. Koldt lys og luft var i køkkenet, men udenfor overalt mild sommermorgen. Fik ham til at føle sig en smule brødflov. Kullene glødede.
Endnu en skive smurt brød: tre, fire: saadan. Hun yndede ikke en fuld tallerken. Godt. Han vendte sig om fra bakken, løftede kedlen af risten og satte den sidelænds over ilden. Dèr stod den nu gnaven og tyk med strittende tud. Snart en kop te. Godt. Munden tør. Katten gik stift rundt om et bordben med løftet hale.
- Mkgnao!
Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion which he very badly needed. His (Stephen’s) mind was not exactly what you would call wandering but a bit unsteady and on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom in view of the hour it was and there being no pump of Vartry water available for their ablutions let alone drinking purposes hit upon an expedient by suggesting, off the reel, the propriety of the cabman’s shelter, as it was called, hardly a stonesthrow away near Butt bridge where they might hit upon some drinkables in the shape of a milk and soda or a mineral.
[BOLD]A[/BOLD]llerførst børstede Mr. Bloom de fleste af høvlspaanerne af, rakte Stephen hatten og stokken og stivede ham i det hele taget af som en rigtig barmhjertig samaritan, hvilket han i allerhøjeste grad havde behov. Hans (Stephens) tanker var ikke helt, hvad man ville kalde vildfarende, men lidt usikre, og da han udtrykte ønske om at faa noget at drikke, kom Mr. Bloom i betragtning af tidspunktet og af den omstændighed, at der ikke var nogen Vartry-pumpe med vand i nærheden til at vaske sig ved, endsige til drikkebrug, i tanker om en udvej og foreslog paa stedet, at man kunne gaa til kuskebarakken, som den kaldtes, knap et stenkast fra Butt Bridge, hvor de maaske kunne faa fat paa nogle drikkevarer i form af mælk og soda eller mine- ralvand.
Yes because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the City Arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his highness to make himself interesting for that old faggot Mrs Riordan that he thought he had a great leg of and she never left us a farthing all for masses for herself and her soul greatest miser ever was actually afraid to lay out 4d for her methylated spirit telling me all her ailments she had too much old chat in her about politics and earthquakes and the end of the world let us have a bit of fun first God help the world if all the women were her sort down on bathingsuits and lownecks of course nobody wanted her to wear them I suppose she was pious because no man would look at her twice I hope Ill never be like her a wonder she didnt want us to cover our faces but she was a welleducated woman certainly and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan here and Mr Riordan there...
Ja for han har da aldrig før præsteret at bede om at faa morgenmad paa sengen med et par æg til siden vi boede paa City Arms Hotel da han plejede at stille sig syg an med ynkelig stemme og spille kong gulerod for at gøre sig interessant for det gamle liv til Mrs Riordan som han troede var varm paa ham og hun som aldrig efterlod os en rød øre det hele gik til messer for hende og hendes sjæl det mest fedtede kvindfolk i verden var endda bange for at ofre 4 pence paa kogesprit og fortalte mig om alle sine gebrækkeligheder hun var smadderfuld af gammelt vrøvl om politik og jordskælv og verdens ende lad os ha det lidt rart først Gud hjælpe verden hvis alle kvinder var af hendes slags sur paa badedragter og udskæringer naturligvis var der ingen der ville have at hun selv skulle gaa med det hun var formodentlig hellig fordi ingen mand gad se to gange paa hende jeg haaber jeg aldrig bliver saadan underligt hun ikke ogsaa ville have os til at gaa med slør for ansig- tet men en dannet dame var hun skam og hun skvadrede op om Mr Riordan her og Mr Riordan dèr…
...the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
Trieste-Zurich-Paris
1914-1921
…med grækerne og jøderne og araberne og pokker maa vide hvem mere fra alle kanter af Europa og Duke Street og hønsetorvet hvor de klukkede uden for Larby Sharons og de stakkels æsler der gled halvsovende afsted og de vage fyre med store kapper der sov i skyggen paa trappen og de store hjul paa oksekærrerne og det gamle slot tusindvis af aar gammelt ja og de kønne maurere i hvidt over det hele og turban ligesom konger som inviterede en til at sidde i deres lille butik og Ronda med de gamle vinduer i posadaerne to søgende øjne bag vindvets skjul for sin elsker som kysser jernet og vinstuerne der var halvt aabne om natten og castagnetterne og den nat vi kom for sent til baaden i Algeciras og vægteren gik saa uforstyrrelig omkring med sin lygte og oh den frygtelige dybe strøm oh og havet havet var undertiden rødt som ild og de straalende solnedgange og figentræerne i Alameda-parken ja og alle de sjove smaa gader og lyserøde og blaa og gule huse og rosenhaverne og jasminerne og geranierne og kaktusserne og Gibraltar som ung pige hvor jeg var en Bjergblomst ja da jeg satte rosen i mit haar ligesom de andalusiske piger eller skal jeg tage en rød ja og hvordan han kyssede mig under den mauriske mur og jeg tænkte naa lige saa godt ham som enhver anden og saa bad jeg ham med øjnene om at spørge mig igen ja og saa spurgte han mig om jeg ville ja sig ja min bjergblomst og først slog jeg armene om ham ja og trak ham ned til mig saa at han kunne mærke mine bryster og parfumen ja og hans hjerte bankede saa vildt og ja sagde jeg ja jeg vil Ja.
Triest-Zürich-Paris, 1914-21.