The Annotated "Ulysses"/Page 086
over Dublin. But with the help of God and His blessed mother I’Il make it my
business to write a letter one of those days to his mother or his aunt or what-
ever she is that will open her eye as wide as a gate. I’Il tickle his catastrophe,
believe you me.
He cried above the clatter of the wheels.
— I won’t have her bastard of a nephew ruin my son. A counterjumper’s
son. Selling tapes in my cousin, Peter Paul M’Swiney’s. Not likely.
He ceased. Mr Bloom glanced from his angry moustache to Mr Power’s
mild face and Martin Cunningham’s eyes and beard, gravely shaking. Noisy
selfwilled man. Full of his son. He is right. Something to hand on. If little
Rudy had lived. See him grow up. Hear his voice in the house. Walking beside
Molly in an Eton suit. My son. Me in his eyes. Strange feeling it would be.
From me. Just a chance. Must have been that morning in Raymond
terrace she was at the window, watching the two dogs at it by the wall
of the cease to do evil. And the sergeant grinning up. She had that cream
gown on with the rip she never stitched. Give us a touch, Poldy. God, I’m
dying for it. How life begins.
Got big then. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. My son inside her.
I could have helped him on in life. I could. Make him independent. Learn
German too.
— Are we late? Mr Power asked.
— Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham said, looking at his watch.
Molly. Milly. Same thing watered down. Her tomboy oaths. O jumping
Jupiter! Ye gods and little fishes! Still, she’s a dear girl. Soon be a woman.
Mullingar. Dearest Papli. Young student. Yes, yes : a woman too. Life. Life.
The carriage heeled over and back, their four trunks swaying.
— Corny might have given us a more commodious yoke, Mr Power said.
— He might, Mr Dedalus said, if he hadn’t that squint troubling him.
Do you follow me?
He closed his left eye. Martin Cunningham began to brush away crust-
crumbs from under his thighs.
— What is this? he said, in the name of God? Crumbs?
— Someone seems to have been making a picnic party here lately,
Mr Power said.
All raised their thighs, eyed with disfavour the mildewed buttonless leather
of the seats. Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward and said :
— Unless I’m greatly mistaken. What do you think, Martin?