-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Улисс
-
- Стр. 1/821
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Ulysses
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
on
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
.
