is exactly what Stephen needs.
The car
jingles tooraloom round the corner
of the tooraloom lane. Corny
Kelleher
again REASSURALOOMS with his hand.
Bloom with his hand ASSURALOOMS
corny
Kelleher that he is REASSURALOOMTAY.
The tinkling hoofs and jingling
harness grow fainter with their
TOORALOOLOO LOOLOO lay. Bloom, holding
in
his hand Stephen’s hat,
festooned with shavings, and ashplant,
stands
irresolute. Then he bends
to him and shakes him by
the shoulder.)
Bloom: Eh! Ho! (There is
no answer; he bends again)
Mr Dedalus! (There is
no answer) The name if you call. Somnambulist.
(He bends again and
hesitating, brings his mouth near
the face of the prostrate
form)
Stephen! (There is no answer.
He calls again.) Stephen!
Stephen: (Groans) Who? Black panther.
Vampire. (He sighs and stretches
himself, then murmurs thickly
with prolonged vowels)
Who ... drive... Fergus
now
And pierce ... wood’s
woven shade? ...
(He turns on his left side,
sighing, doubling himself together.)
Bloom: Poetry. Well educated.
Pity. (He bends again and undoes
the buttons of Stephen’s
waistcoat) To breathe. (He brushes the
WOODSHAVINGS from Stephen’s clothes
with light hand and fingers)
One pound seven. Not hurt anyhow. (He listens)
What?
... shadows ... the woods
... white breast... dim sea.
(He stretches out his arms, sighs again and curls
his body. Bloom,
holding the hat and ashplant,
stands erect. A dog barks
in the distance.
Bloom tightens and loosens his
grip on the ashplant. He
looks down on
Stephen’s face and form.)
