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God and morality and religion come first. Mrs Dedalus, seeing her excitement, said to her: Mrs Riordan, don't excite yourself answering them. God and religion before everything! Dante cried. God and religion before the world. Mr Casey raised his clenched fist and brought it down on the table with a crash. Very well then, he shouted hoarsely, if it comes to that, no God for Ireland! John!
There was every kind of news in the paper: accidents, shipwrecks, sports, and politics. Now it is all about politics in the papers, he said. Do your people talk about that too? Yes, Stephen said. Mine too, he said. Then he thought for a moment and said: You have a queer name, Dedalus, and I have a queer name too, Athy. My name is the name of a town. Your name is like Latin.
The consciousness of the warm sunny city outside his window and the tender tremors with which his father's voice festooned the strange sad happy air, drove off all the mists of the night's ill humour from Stephen's brain. He got up quickly to dress and, when the song had ended, said: That's much prettier than any of your other COME-ALL-YOUS. Do you think so? asked Mr Dedalus.
Mr Dedalus gave a snort of contempt. Ah, John, he said. It is true for them. We are an unfortunate priest-ridden race and always were and always will be till the end of the chapter. Uncle Charles shook his head, saying: A bad business! A bad business! Mr Dedalus repeated: A priest-ridden Godforsaken race! He pointed to the portrait of his grandfather on the wall to his right.
What is this I hear? What is this your name is! said the prefect of studies. Dedalus, sir. Out here, Dedalus. Lazy little schemer. I see schemer in your face. Where did you break your glasses? Stephen stumbled into the middle of the class, blinded by fear and haste. Where did you break your glasses? repeated the prefect of studies. The cinder-path, sir. Hoho!
Dearest Papli. Young student. Yes, yes: a woman too. Life, life. The carriage heeled over and back, their four trunks swaying. Corny might have given us a more commodious yoke, Mr Power said. He might, Mr Dedalus said, if he hadn't that squint troubling him. Do you follow me? He closed his left eye. Martin Cunningham began to brush away crustcrumbs from under his thighs.
Then I suppose, said Mrs Dedalus, he will be able to arrange it. I mean about Belvedere. Of course he will, said Mr Dedalus. Don't I tell you he's provincial of the order now? I never liked the idea of sending him to the christian brothers myself, said Mrs Dedalus. Christian brothers be damned! said Mr Dedalus. Is it with Paddy Stink and Micky Mud?
Bald Pat, bothered waiter, waited for drink orders. Power for Richie. And Bloom? Let me see. Not make him walk twice. His corns. Four now. How warm this black is. Course nerves a bit. Let me see. Cider. Yes, bottle of cider. What's that? Mr Dedalus said. I was only vamping, man. Come on, come on, Ben Dollard called. Begone dull care. Come, Bob. He plumped him Dollard on the stool.
Devil! screamed Dante, starting to her feet and almost spitting in his face. Uncle Charles and Mr Dedalus pulled Mr Casey back into his chair again, talking to him from both sides reasonably. He stared before him out of his dark flaming eyes, repeating: Away with God, I say!
By God, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. Mr Dedalus wandered back, pipe in hand. Merrion square style. Balldresses, by God, and court dresses. He wouldn't take any money either. What? Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. What? Ay, ay, Mr Dedalus nodded. Mrs Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all descriptions. Jingle jaunted down the quays.
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