Release Date: July, 2003 [EBook #4300] [This
file was first posted on December 27, 2001] [Edition
12 posted June 30th, 2002] [Date last updated:
November 26, 2004]
Character set encoding: ASCII
Please Note: This etext edition of the Project
Gutenberg Ulysses by James Joyce is based on the pre-1923
print editions. Any suggested changes to this
etext should be based on comparison to that print
edition, and not to the new 1986 and later print editions.
*** Start of the project gutenberg
EBOOK Ulysses ***
This etext was prepared by Col Choat colchoat@yahoo.com.au.
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 by 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.
He added in a preacher’s tone:
—For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine
Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns.
Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents.
One moment. A little trouble about those white
corpuscles. Silence, all.
He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle
of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his
even white teeth glistening here and there with gold
points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles
answered through the calm.
—Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly.
That will do nicely. Switch off the current,
will you?
He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his
watcher, gathering about his legs the loose folds
of his gown. The plump shadowed face and sullen
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!
