Ulysses: Chapter 13 Nausicca

Description

• Author: James Joyce

THE SUMMER EVENING HAD BEGUN TO FOLD THE WORLD IN ITS mysterious embrace. Far away in the

west the sun was setting and the last glow of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on

sea and strand, on the proud promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters of

the bay, on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, last but not least, on the

quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the stillness the voice of prayer

to her who is in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the storm-tossed heart of man, Mary,

star of the sea.


The three girl friends were seated on the rocks, enjoying the evening scene and the air

which was fresh but not too chilly. Many a time and oft were they wont to come there to

that favourite nook to have a cosy chat beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters

feminine, Cissy Caffrey and Edy Boardman with the baby in the pushcar and Tommy and Jacky

Caffrey, two little curlyheaded boys, dressed in sailor suits with caps to match and the

name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both. For Tommy and Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four

years old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for all that darling little

fellows with bright merry faces and endearing ways about them. They were dabbling in the

sand with their spades and buckets, building castles as children do, or playing with their

big coloured ball, happy as the day was long. And Edy Boardman was rocking the chubby baby

to and fro in the pushcar while that young gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. He was

but eleven months and nine days old and, though still a tiny toddler, was just beginning

to lisp his first babyish words. Cissy Caffrey bent over him to tease his fat little

plucks and the dainty dimple in his chin.

-- Now, baby, Cissy Caffrey said. Say out big, big. I want a drink of water.

And baby prattled after her:

-- A jink a jink a jawbo. Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was awfully fond

of children, so patient with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey could never be got to take

his castor oil unless it was Cissy Caffrey that held his nose and promised him the scatty

heel of the loaf of brown bread with golden syrup on. What a persuasive power that girl

had! But to be sure baby was as good as gold, a perfect little dote in his new fancy bib.

None of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, was Cissy Caffrey. A truerhearted lass

never drew the breath of life, always with a laugh in her gipsylike eyes and a frolicsome

word on her cherryripe red lips, a girl lovable in the extreme. And Edy Boardman laughed

too at the quaint language of little brother.

But just then there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy and Master Jacky.

Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception to this golden rule. The apple of

discord was a certain castle of sand which Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy would

have it right go wrong that it was to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like the

Martello tower had. But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was selfwilled too

and, true to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he fell upon his

hated rival and to such purpose that the would be assailant came to grief and (alas to

relate!) the coveted castle too. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy

drew the attention of the girl friends.

-- Come here, Tommy, his sister called imperatively, at once! And you, Jacky, for shame

to throw poor Tommy in the dirty sand. Wait till I catch you for that.

His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy came at her call for their big sister's

word was law with the twins. And in a sad plight he was after his misadventure. His little

man-o'-war top and unmentionables were full of sand but Cissy was a past mistress in the

art of smoothing over life's tiny troubles and very quickly not one speck of sand was to

be seen on his smart little suit. Still the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that

would well up so she kissed away the hurtness and shook her hand at Master Jacky the

culprit and said if she was near him she wouldn't be far from him, her eyes dancing in

admonition.

-- Nasty bold Jacky! she cried.

She put an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly:

-- What's your name? Butter and cream?

-- Tell us who is your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman. Is Cissy your sweetheart?

-- Nao, tearful Tommy said.

-- Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Cissy queried.

-- Nao, Tommy said.

-- I know, Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an arch glance from her shortsighted

eyes. I know who is Tommy's sweetheart, Gerty is Tommy's sweetheart.

-- Nao, Tommy said on the verge of tears.

Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was amiss and she whispered to Edy Boardman to

take him there behind the pushcar where the gentlemen couldn't see and to mind he didn't

wet his new tan shoes.

But who was Gerty?

Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companions, lost in thought, gazing far away

into the distance, was in very truth as fair a specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one

could wish to see. She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as folks often

said, she was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Her figure was slight and graceful,

inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been taking of late had done

her a world of good much better than the Widow Welch's female pills and she was much

better of those discharges she used to get and that tired feeling. The waxen pallor of her

face was almost spiritual in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine

Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering

fingers and as white as lemon juice and queen of ointments could make them though it was

not true that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either. Bertha

Supple told that once to Edy Boardman, a deliberate lie, when she was black out at daggers

drawn with Gerty (the girl chums had of course their little tiffs from time to time like

the rest of mortals) and she told her not let on whatever she did that it was her that

told her or she'd never speak to her again. No. Honour where honour is due. There was an

innate refinement, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was unmistakably evidenced

in her delicate hands and higharched instep. Had kind fate but willed her to be born a

gentlewoman of high degree in her own right and had she only received the benefit of a

good education Gerty MacDowell might easily have held her own beside any lady in the land

and have seen herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her brow and patrician suitors at

her feet vying with one another to pay their devoirs to her. Mayhap it was this, the love

that might have been, that lent to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look, tense with

suppressed meaning, that imparted a strange yearning tendency to the beautiful eyes a

charm few could resist. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Gerty's were of the bluest

Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. Time gas when those

brows were not so silkilyseductive. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the Woman

Beautiful page of the Princess novelette, who had first advised her to try eyebrowleine

which gave that haunting expression to the eyes, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and

she had never regretted it. Then there was blushing scientifically cured and how to be

tall increase your height and you have a beautiful face but your nose? That would suit Mrs

Dignam because she had a button one. But Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of

wonderful hair. It was dark brown with a natural wave in it. She had cut it that very

morning on account of the new moon and it nestled about her pretty head in a profusion of

luxuriant clusters and pared her nails too, Thursday for wealth. And just now at Edy's

words as a telltale flush, delicate as the faintest rosebloom, crept into her cheeks she

looked so lovely in her sweet girlish shyness that of a surety God's fair land of Ireland

did not hold her equal.

For an instant she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. She was about to retort

but something checked the words on her tongue. Inclination prompted her to speak out:

dignity told her to be silent. The pretty lips pouted a while but then she glanced up and

broke out into a joyous little laugh which had in it all the freshness of a young May

morning. She knew right well, no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that because of him

cooling in his attentions when it was simply a lovers' quarrel. As per usual somebody's

nose was out of joint about the boy that had the bicycle always riding up and down in

front of her window. Only now his father kept him in the evenings studying hard to get an

exhibition in the intermediate that was on and he was going to Trinity college to study

for a doctor when he left the high school like his brother W. E. Wylie who was racing in

the bicycle races in Trinity college university. Little recked he perhaps for what she

felt, that dull aching void in her heart sometimes, piercing to the core. Yet he was young

and perchance he might learn to love her in time. They were protestants in his family and

of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the blessed Virgin and then Saint

Joseph. But he was undeniably handsome with an exquisite nose and he was what he looked,

every inch a gentleman, the shape of his head too at the back without his cap on that she

would know anywhere something off the common and the way he turned the bicycle at the lamp

with his hands off the bars and also the nice perfume of those good cigarettes and besides

they were both of a size and that was why Edy Boardman thought she was so frightfully

clever because he didn't go and ride up and down in front of her bit of a garden.

Gerty was dressed simply but with the instinctive taste of a votary of Dame Fashion for

she felt that there was just a might that he might be out. A neat blouse of electric blue,

selftinted by dolly dyes (because it was expected in the Lady's Pictorial that electric

blue would be worn), with a smart vee opening down to the division and kerchief pocket (in

which she always kept a piece of cottonwool scented with her favourite perfume because the

handkerchief spoiled the sit) and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the stride showed off

her slim graceful figure to perfection. She wore a coquettish little love of a hat of

wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and at the

side a butterfly bow to tone. All Tuesday week afternoon she was hunting to match that

chenille but at last she found what she wanted at Clery's summer sales, the very it,

slightly shopsoiled but you would never notice, seven fingers two and a penny. She did it

up all by herself and what joy was hers when she tried it on then, smiling at the lovely

reflection which the mirror gave back to her! And when she put it on the waterjug to keep

the shape she knew that that would take the shine out of some people she knew. Her shoes

were the newest thing in footwear (Edy Boardman prided herself that she was very petite

but she never had a foot like Gerty MacDowell, a five, and never would ash, oak or elm)

with patent toecaps and just one smart buckle at her higharched instep. Her wellturned

ankle displayed its perfect proportions beneath her skirt and just the proper amount and

no more of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with high spliced heels and wide

garter tops. As for undies they were Gerty's chief care and who that knows the fluttering

hopes and fears of sweet seventeen (though Gerty would never see seventeen again) can find

it in his heart to blame her? She had four dinky sets, with awfully pretty stitchery,

three garments and nighties extra, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons,

rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen and she aired them herself and blued them when

they came home from the wash and ironed them and she had a brickbat to keep the iron on

because she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as she'd see them scorching the

things. She was wearing the blue for luck, hoping against hope, her own colour and the

lucky colour too for a bride to have a bit of blue somewhere on her because the green she

wore that day week brought grief because his father brought him in to study for the

intermediate exhibition and because she thought perhaps he might be out because when she

was dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the old pair on her inside out and that

was for luck and lovers' meetings if you put those things on inside out so long as it

wasn't of a Friday.

And yet and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow is there all the

time. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give worlds to be in the privacy of her

own familiar chamber where, giving way to tears, she could have a good cry and relieve her

pentup feelings. Though not too much because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror.

You are lovely, Gerty, it said. The paly light of evening falls upon a face infinitely sad

and wistful. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Yes, she had known from the first that her

daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie

T. C. D. (because the one who married the elder brother would be Mrs Wylie) and in the

fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey

trimmed with expensive blue fox was not to be. He was too young to understand. He would

not believe in love, a woman's birthright. The night of the party long ago in Stoers' (he

was still in short trousers) when they were alone and he stole an arm round her waist she

went white to the very lips. He called her little one in a strangely husky voice and

snatched a half kiss (the first!) but it was only the end of her nose and then he hastened

from the room with a remark about refreshments. Impetuous fellow! Strength of character

had never been Reggy Wylie's strong point and he who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell

must be a man among men. But waiting, always waiting to be asked and it was leap year too

and would soon be over. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous

love at her feet but rather a manly man with a strong quiet face who had not found his

ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and who would understand, take her in

his sheltering arms, strain her to him in all the strength of his deep passionate nature

and comfort her with a long long kiss. It would be like heaven. For such a one she yearns

this balmy summer eve. With all the heart of her she longs to be his only, his affianced

bride for riches for poor, in sickness in health, till death us two part, from this to

this day forward.

And while Edy Boardman was with little Tommy behind the pushcar she was just thinking

would the day ever come when she could call herself his little wife to be. Then they could

talk about her till they went blue in the face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, the spitfire,

because she would be twenty-two in November. She would care for him with creature comforts

too for Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess.

Her griddlecakes done to a golden-brown hue and queen Ann's pudding of delightful

creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she had a lucky hand also for lighting

a fire, dredge in the fine selfraising flour and always stir in the same direction then

cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the white of eggs though she didn't like the

eating part when there were any people that made her shy and often she wondered why you

couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and they would have a beautifully

appointed drawingroom with pictures and engravings and the photograph of grandpapa

Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked, it was so human, and chintz covers for

the chairs and that silver toastrack in Clery's summer jumble sales like they have in rich

houses. He would be tall with broad shoulders (she had always admired tall men for a

husband) with glistening white teeth under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and

they would go on the continent for their honeymoon (three wonderful weeks!) and then, when

they settled down in a nice snug and cosy little homely house, every morning they would

both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for their own two selves and before he went

out to business he would give his dear little wifey a good hearty hug and gaze for a

moment deep down into her eyes.

Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey was he done and he said yes, so then she buttoned up

his little knickerbockers for him and told him to run off and play with Jacky and to be

good now and not to fight. But Tommy said he wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby

was playing with the ball and if he took it there'd be wigs on the green but Tommy said it

was his ball and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the ground, if you please. The

temper of him! O, he was a man already was little Tommy Caffrey since he was out of

pinnies. Edy told him no, no and to he off now with him and she told Cissy Caffrey not to

give in to him.

-- You're not my sister, naughty Tommy said. It's my ball. But Cissy Caffrey told baby

Boardman to look up, look up high at her finger and she snatched the ball quickly and

threw it along the sand and Tommy after it in full career, having won the day.

-- Anything for a quiet life, laughed Ciss.

And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make him forget and played here's the lord

mayor, here's his two horses, here's his gingerbread carriage and here he walks in,

chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper chin. But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him

getting his own way like that from everyone always petting him.

-- I'd like to give him something, she said, so I would, where I won't say.

-- On the beetoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily.

Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and crimsoned at the idea of Cissy saying an

unladylike thing like that out loud she'd be ashamed of her life to say, flushing a deep

rosy red, and Edy Boardman said she was sure the gentleman opposite heard what she said.

But not a pin cared Ciss.

-- Let him! she said with a pert toss of her head and a piquant tilt of her nose. Give

it to him too on the same place as quick as I'd look at him.

Madcap Ciss with her golliwog curls. You had to laugh at her sometimes. For instance

when she asked you would you have some more Chinese tea and jaspberry ram and when she

drew the jugs too and the men's faces on her nails with red ink make you split your sides

or when she wanted to go where you know she said she wanted to run and pay a visit to the

Miss White. That was just like Cissycums. O, and will you ever forget the evening she

dressed up in her father's suit and hat and the burned cork moustache and walked down

Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette? There was none to come up to her for fun. But she

was sincerity itself, one of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made, not one of

your twofaced things, too sweet to be wholesome.

And then there came out upon the air the sound of voices and the pealing anthem of the

organ. It was the men's temperance retreat conducted by the missioner, the reverend John

Hughes S. J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament. They were

there gathered together without distinction of social class (and a most edifying spectacle

it was to see) in that simple fane beside the waves, after the storms of this weary world,

kneeling before the feet of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto,

beseeching her to intercede for them, the old familiar words, holy Mary, holy virgin of

virgins. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! Had her father only avoided the clutches of the

demon drink, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's

Weekly, she might now be rolling in her carriage, second to none. Over and over had she

told herself that as she mused by the dying embers in a brown study without the lamp

because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of the window dreamily by the hour

at the rain falling on the rusty bucket, thinking. But that vile decoction which has

ruined so many hearths and homes had cast its shadow over her childhood days. Nay, she had

even witnessed in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had seen

her own father, a prey to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself completely for if

there was one thing of all things that Gerty knew it was the man who lifts his hand to a

woman save in the way of kindness deserves to be branded as the lowest of the low.

And still the voices sang in supplication to the Virgin most powerful, Virgin most

merciful. And Gerty, wrapt in thought, scarce saw or heard her companions or the twins at

their boyish gambols or the gentleman off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey called the

man that was so like himself passing along the strand taking a short walk. You never saw

him anyway screwed but still and for all that she would not like him for a father because

he was too old or something or on account of his face (it was a palpable case of doctor

Fell) or his carbuncly nose with the pimples on it and his sandy moustache a bit white

under his nose. Poor father! With all his faults she loved him still when he sang Tell me,

Mary, how to woo thee or My love and cottage near Rochelle and they had stewed cockles and

lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when he sang The moon hath raised

with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, from a stroke.

Her mother's birthday that was and Charley was home on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam

and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they were to have had a group taken. No-one would

have thought the end was so near. Now he was laid to rest. And her mother said to him to

let that be a warning to him for the rest of his days and he couldn't even go to the

funeral on account of the gout and she had to go into town to bring him the letters and

samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic standard designs, fit for a

palace, gives tiptop wear and always bright and cheery in the home.

A sterling good daughter was Gerty just like a second mother in the house, a

ministering angel too with a little heart worth its weight in gold. And when her mother

had those raging splitting headaches who was it rubbed on the menthol cone on her forehead

but Gerty though she didn't like her mother taking pinches of snuff and that was the only

single thing they ever had words about, taking snuff. Everyone thought the world of her

for her gentle ways. It was Gerty who turned off the gas at the main every night and it

was Gerty who tacked up on the wall of that place where she never forgot every fortnight

the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac the picture of halcyon days

where a young gentleman in the costume they used to wear then with a threecornered hat was

offering a bunch of flowers to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice

window. You could see there was a story behind it. The colours were done something lovely.

She was in a soft clinging white in a studied attitude and the gentleman was in chocolate

and he looked a thorough aristocrat. She often looked at them dreamily when there for a

certain purpose and felt her own arms that were white and soft just like hers with the

sleeves back and thought about those times because she had found out in Walker's

pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the halcyon days what they

meant.

The twins were now playing in the most approved brotherly fashion, till at last Master

Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was no getting behind that deliberately kicked

the ball as hard as ever he could down towards the seaweedy rocks. Needless to say poor

Tommy was not slow to voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman in black who was sitting

there by himself came gallantly to the rescue and intercepted the ball. Our two champions

claimed their plaything with lusty cries and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey called to the

gentleman to throw it to her please. The gentleman aimed the ball once or twice and then

threw it up the strand towards Cissy Caffrey but it rolled down the slope and stopped

right under Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the rock. The twins clamoured again for

it and Cissy told her to kick it away and let them fight for it so Gerty drew back her

foot but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her and she gave a kick

but she missed and Edy and Cissy laughed.

-- If you fail try again, Edy Boardman said.

Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. A delicate pink crept into her pretty cheek but

she was determined to let them see so she just lifted her skirt a little but just enough

and took good aim and gave the ball a jolly good kick and it went ever so far and the two

twins after it down towards the shingle. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to

draw attention on account of the gentleman opposite looking. She felt the warm flush, a

danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her cheeks. Till then

they had only exchanged glances of the most casual but now under the brim of her new hat

she ventured a look at him and the face that met her gaze there in the twilight, wan and

strangely drawn, seemed to her the saddest she had ever seen.

Through the open window of the church the fragrant incense was wafted and with it the

fragrant names of her who was conceived without stain of original sin, spiritual vessel,

pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us,

mystical rose. And careworn hearts were there and toilers for their daily bread and many

who had erred and wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all that bright with

hope for the reverend father Hughes had told them what the great saint Bernard said in his

famous prayer of Mary, the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that it was not recorded

in any age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her.

The twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of childhood are but as

fleeting summer showers. Cissy played with baby Boardman till he crowed with glee,

clapping baby hands in air. Peep she cried behind the hood of the pushcar and Edy asked

where was Cissy gone and then Cissy popped up her head and cried ah! and, my word, didn't

the little chap enjoy that! And then she told him to say papa.

-- Say papa, baby. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa.

And baby did his level best to say it for he was very intelligent for eleven months

everyone said and big for his age and the picture of health, a perfect little bunch of

love, and he would certainly turn out to be something great, they said.

-- Hajajajahaja.

Cissy wiped his little mouth with the dribbling bib and wanted him to sit up properly,

and say pa pa pa but when she undid the strap she cried out, holy saint Denis, that he was

possing wet and to double the half blanket the other way under him. Of course his infant

majesty was most obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he let everyone know it:

-- Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa.

And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. It was all no use

soothering him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the geegee and where was the

puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave him in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle

and the young heathen was quickly appeased.

Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of that and not

get on her nerves no hour to be out and the little brats of twins. She gazed out towards

the distant sea. It was like the paintings that man used to do on the pavement with all

the coloured chalks and such a pity too leaving them there to be all blotted out, the

evening and the clouds coming out and the Bailey light on Howth and to hear the music like

that and the perfume of those incense they burned in the church like a kind of waft. And

while she gazed her heart went pitapat. Yes, it was her he was looking at and there was

meaning in his look. His eyes burned into her as though they would search her through and

through, read her very soul. Wonderful eyes they were, superbly expressive, but could you

trust them? People were so queer. She could see at once by his dark eyes and his pale

intellectual face that he was a foreigner, the image of the photo she had of Martin

Harvey, the matin

Disclaimer:
Contents of this page are indexed from the Internet. All actions are under your responsability. Email us to report illegal contents or external links and we'll remove them immediately.

Please check the description for download links if any or do a search to find alternative books.

Can't Download?
Please search mirrors if you can't find download links for "Ulysses: Chapter 13 Nausicca" in "Description" and someone else may update the links. Check the comments when back to find any updates.

Search Mirrors
Maybe some mirror pages will be helpful, search this book at top of this page or click here to find more info.

1. Ebooks list page : 86
2. Ulysses: Chapter 6 Hades
3. Ulysses: Chapter 15 Circe
4. Ulysses: Chapter 12 Cyclops
5. Ulysses: Chapter 14 Oxen of the Sun
6. Ulysses: Chapter 18 Penelope
7. Ulysses: Chapter 17 Ithaca
8. Ulysses: Chapter 1 Telemachus
9. Ulysses: Chapter 3 Proteus
10. Ulysses: Chapter 16 Eumaeus
11. Ulysses: Chapter 2 Nestor
12. Ulysses: Chapter 7 Aeolus
13. Ulysses: Chapter 8 Lestrygonians
14. Ulysses: Chapter 4 Calypso
15. Ulysses: Chapter 11 Sirens
16. Ulysses: Chapter 10 Wandering Rocks