The Annotated "Ulysses"/Page 073
— I’ll do that, Mr Bloom said, moving to get off. That’ll be all right.
— Right, M’Coy said brightly. Thanks, old man. I’d go if I possibly
could. Well, tolloll. Just C. P. M’Coy will do.
— That will be done, Mr Bloom answered firmly.
Didn’t catch me napping that wheeze. The quick touch. Soft mark. I’d like
my job. Valise I have a particular fancy for. Leather. Capped corners, riveted
edges, double action lever lock. Bob Cowley lent him his for the Wicklow
regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of it from that good day to
this.
Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, smiled. My missus has just
got an. Reedy freckled soprano. Cheeseparing nose. Nice enough in its way :
for a little ballad. No guts in it. You and me, don’t you know? In the same
boat. Softsoaping. Give you the needle that would. Can’t he hear the diffe-
rence? Think he’s that way inclined a bit. Against my grain somehow.
Thought that Belfast would fetch him. I hope that smallpox up there doesn’t
get worse. Suppose she wouldn’t let herself be vaccinated again. Your wife
and my wife.
Wonder is he pimping after me?
Mr Bloom stood at the corner, his eyes wandering over the multicoloured
hoardings. Cantrell and Cochrane’s Ginger Ale (Aromatic). Clery’s summer
sale. No, he’s going on straight. Hello. Leah tonight : Mrs Bandman Palmer.
Like to see her in that again. Hamlet she played last night. Male impersonator.
Perhaps he was a woman. Why Ophelia committed suicide? Poor papa! How
he used to talk about Kate Bateman in that! Outside the Adelphi in London
waited all the afternoon to get in. Year before I was born that was : sixtyfive.
And Ristori in Vienna. What is this the right name is? By Mosenthal it is.
Rachel, is it? No. The scene he was always talking about where the old blind
Abraham recognises the voice and puts his fingers on his face.
— Nathan’s voice! His son’s voice! I hear the voice of Nathan who left
his father to die of grief and misery in my arms, who left the house of his
father and left the God of his father.
Every word is so deep, Leopold.
Poor papa! Poor man! I’m glad. I didn’t go into the room to look at his
face. That day! O dear! O dear! Ffoo! Well, perhaps it was the best for him.
Mr Bloom went round the corner and passed the drooping nags of the
hazard. No use thinking of it any more. Nosebag time. Wish I hadn’t met that
M’Coy fellow.