0 Ulysses
it trailing its tether over rattling pebbles. After him toddles
an obese grandfather rat on fungus turtle paws under a
grey carapace. Dignam’s voice, muffled, is heard baying un-
der ground: Dignam’s dead and gone below. Tom Rochford,
robinredbreasted, in cap and breeches, jumps from his two-
columned machine.)
TOM ROCHFORD: (A hand to his breastbone, bows)
Reuben J. A florin I find him. (He fixes the manhole with a
resolute stare) My turn now on. Follow me up to Carlow.
(He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the air and is en-
gulfed in the coalhole. Two discs on the columns wobble, eyes
of nought. All recedes. Bloom plodges forward again through
the sump. Kisses chirp amid the rifts of fog a piano sounds.
He stands before a lighted house, listening. The kisses, wing-
ing from their bowers fly about him, twittering, warbling,
cooing.)
THE KISSES: (Warbling) Leo! (Twittering) Icky licky
micky sticky for Leo! (Cooing) Coo coocoo! Yummyyum,
Womwom! (Warbling) Big comebig! Pirouette! Leopopold!
(Twittering) Leeolee! (Warbling) O Leo!
(They rustle, flutter upon his garments, alight, bright gid-
dy flecks, silvery sequins.)
BLOOM: A man’s touch. Sad music. Church music. Per-
haps here.
(Zoe Higgins, a young whore in a sapphire slip, closed
with three bronze buckles, a slim black velvet fillet round her
throat, nods, trips down the steps and accosts him.)
ZOE: Are you looking for someone? He’s inside with his
friend.