you. All desire to see you bring forth the work you meditate. I heartily wish
you may not fail them. O no, Vincent, Lenehan said, laying a hand on the
shoulder near him, have no fear. He could not leave his mother an orphan.
The young mans face grew dark. All could see how hard it was for him to
be reminded of his promise and of his recent loss. He would have withdrawn
from the feast had not the noise of voices allayed the smart. Madden had lost
five drachmas on Sceptre for a whim of the rider’s name : Lenehan as much more.
He told them of the race. The flag fell and, huuh, off, scamper, the mare ran out
freshly with O. Madden up. She was leading the field : all hearts were beating.
Even Phyllis could not contain herself. She waved her scarf and cried : Huzzah!
Sceptre wins! But in the straight on the run home when all were in close
order the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her. All
was lost now. Phyllis was silent : her eyes were sad anemones. Juno, she
cried, I am undone. But her lover consoled her and brought her a bright
casket of gold in which lay some oval sugarplums which she partook. A tear
fell : one only. A whacking fine whip, said Lenehan, is W. Lane. Four
winners yesterday and three today. What rider is like him? Mount him on
the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. But
let us bear it as was the ancient wont. Mercy on the luckless! Poor Sceptre!
he said with a light sigh. She is not the filly that she was. Never, by this
hand, shall we behold such another. By gad, sir, a queen of them. Do you
remember her, Vincent? I wish you could have seen my queen today, Vincent
said, how young she was and radiant (Lalage were scarce fair beside her) in
her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I do not know the right name of it.
The chestnuts that shaded us were in bloom : the air drooped with their
persuasive odour and with pollen floating by us. In the sunny patches one
might easily have cooked on a stone a batch of those buns with Corinth fruit
in them that Periplepomenos sells in his booth near the bridge. But she had
nought for her teeth but the arm with which I held her and in that she
nibbled mischievously when I pressed too close. A week ago she lay ill, four
days on the couch, but today she was free, blithe, mocked at peril. She is
more taking then. Her posies too! Mad romp that it is, she had pulled her
fill as we reclined together. And in your ear, my friend, you will not think
who met us as we left the field. Conmee himself! He was walking by the
hedge, reading, I think a brevier book with, I doubt not, a witty letter in it
from Glycera or Chloe to keep the page. The sweet creature turned all colours
in her confusion, feigning to reprove a slight disorder in her dress : a slip of
Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/398
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