Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/538

Rh

(Twirls around herself, heeltapping.) Dance. Anybody here for there? Who’ll dance?

The poetry of motion, art of callisthenics. No connection with Madam Legget Byrne’s or Levinstone’s. Fancy dress balls arranged. Deportment. The Katty Lanner steps. So. Watch me! My terpsichorean abilities. (He minuets forward three paces on tripping bee’s feet.) ''Tout le monde an avant! Reverence! Tout'' le monde en place!

(From a corner the morning hours run out, goldhaired, slim, in girlish blue, waspwaisted, with innocent hands. Nimbly they dance, twirling their skipping ropes. The hours of noon follow in amber gold. Laughing