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3°4 / A M E S [ 1909-1911 ]from time to time, and Roberts hoped to have galley proofs of Dublinersready for him during his stay. These were, however,delayed.Set quite apart from his business with the Volta was another of Joyce'sintense little dramas, conducted mostly with Nora. The second absencefrom her was more tumultuous than their reconciliation after the firstwould have indicated. During his first few days away from her in OctoberJoyce was still annoyed at her for having called him an imbecile whenhe returned home late one night, and punished her by sending only achilly post card. Then on October 27, he wrote her a letter full of hatredfor the Irish and full, too, of his own loneliness: isee nothing on everyside of me but the image of the adulterous priest and his servants and ofsly deceitful women. It is not good for me to come here or to be here.Perhaps if you were with me I would not suffer so much.' Yet he couldnot forbear mentioning three recent incidents in which she too had failedhim:A few days before I left Trieste I was walking with you in the Via Stadion(it was the day we bought the glassjar for the conserva). A priestpassed us and I said to you 'Do you not find a kind of repulsion or disgustat the sight of one of those men?'* You answered a little shortly and drily'No, I don't.' You see, I remember all these small things. Your reply hurtme and silenced me. It and other similar things you have said to me lingera long time in my mind. Are you with me, Nora, or are you secretlyagainst me?I am a jealous, lonely, dissatisfied, proud man. Why are you not morepatient with me and kinder with me? The night we went to Madame Butterflytogether you treated me most rudely. I simply wanted to hear thatbeautiful delicate music in your company. I wanted to feel your soul swayingwith languor and longing as mine did when she sings the romance ofher hope in the second act Un bel di: 'One day, one day, we shall see aspire of smoke rising on the furthest verge of the sea: and then the shipappears.' I am a little disappointed in you. Then another night I camehome to your bed from the cafe and I began to tell you of all I hoped todo, and to write, in the future and of those boundless ambitions which arereally the leading forces in my life. You would not listen to me. It wasvery late I know and of course you were tired out after the day. But a manwhose brain is on fire with hope and trust in himself must tell someone ofwhat he feels. Whom should I tell but you? 23She must feel exactly as he feels; otherwise she is an enemy. But hismood changes. 'My love for you,' he wrote her at the same time,really a kind of adoration.' Nora could not understand these abrupt shiftsin tone; she wrote him that she was miserable and feared he was tired ofher. He consoled and reassured her; she must not doubt him, i'isknowand feel that if I am to write anything fine or noble in the future I shall* A lifelong view on Joyce's part. He described Irish priests to Harriet Weaver as 'barbariansarmed with crucifixes.' 22