Part 34 (1/2)

Ned Lambert, seated on the table, read on:

--_Or again, note the meanderings of some purling rill as it babbles on its way, tho' quarrelling with the stony obstacles, to the tumbling waters of Neptune's blue domain, 'mid mossy banks, fanned by gentlest zephyrs, played on by the glorious sunlight or 'neath the shadows cast o'er its pensive bosom by the overarching leaf.a.ge of the giants of the forest_. What about that, Simon? he asked over the fringe of his newspaper. How's that for high?

--Changing his drink, Mr Dedalus said.

Ned Lambert, laughing, struck the newspaper on his knees, repeating:

--_The pensive bosom and the overarsing leaf.a.ge_. O boys! O boys!

--And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr Dedalus said, looking again on the fireplace and to the window, and Marathon looked on the sea.

--That will do, professor MacHugh cried from the window. I don't want to hear any more of the stuff.

He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had been nibbling and, hungered, made ready to nibble the biscuit in his other hand.

High falutin stuff. Bladderbags. Ned Lambert is taking a day off I see.

Rather upsets a man's day, a funeral does. He has influence they say. Old Chatterton, the vicechancellor, is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle. Close on ninety they say. Subleader for his death written this long time perhaps. Living to spite them. Might go first himself. Johnny, make room for your uncle. The right honourable Hedges Eyre Chatterton. Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. Windfall when he kicks out. Alleluia.

--Just another spasm, Ned Lambert said.

--What is it? Mr Bloom asked.

--A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh answered with pomp of tone. _Our lovely land_. SHORT BUT TO THE POINT

--Whose land? Mr Bloom said simply.

--Most pertinent question, the professor said between his chews. With an accent on the whose.

--Dan Dawson's land Mr Dedalus said.

--Is it his speech last night? Mr Bloom asked.

Ned Lambert nodded.

--But listen to this, he said.

The doork.n.o.b hit Mr Bloom in the small of the back as the door was pushed in.

--Excuse me, J. J. O'Molloy said, entering.

Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside.

--I beg yours, he said.

--Good day, Jack.

--Come in. Come in.

--Good day.