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Updated: May 17, 2025
I swear to Moses, do you know, that I'll be the death of that fellow one time. But his voice was no longer angry and Stephen wondered was he thinking of her greeting to him under the porch. They turned to the left and walked on as before. When they had gone on so for some time Stephen said: Cranly, I had an unpleasant quarrel this evening. With your people? Cranly asked. With my mother.
The moment they were through the doorway Cranly seized him rudely by the neck and shook him, saying: You flaming floundering fool! I'll take my dying bible there isn't a bigger bloody ape, do you know, than you in the whole flaming bloody world! Temple wriggled in his grip, laughing still with sly content, while Cranly repeated flatly at every rude shake: A flaming flaring bloody idiot!
His phrase was greeted by a strange laugh from a student who lounged against the wall, his peaked cap down on his eyes. The laugh, pitched in a high key and coming from a so muscular frame, seemed like the whinny of an elephant. The student's body shook all over and, to ease his mirth, he rubbed both his hands delightedly over his groins. Lynch is awake, said Cranly.
Crossing Stephen's, that is, my green, remembered that his countrymen and not mine had invented what Cranly the other night called our religion. A quartet of them, soldiers of the ninety-seventh infantry regiment, sat at the foot of the cross and tossed up dice for the overcoat of the crucified. Went to library. Tried to read three reviews. Useless. She is not out yet. Am I alarmed? About what?
Do you believe in the eucharist? Cranly asked. I do not, Stephen said. Do you disbelieve then? I neither believe in it nor disbelieve in it, Stephen answered. Many persons have doubts, even religious persons, yet they overcome them or put them aside, Cranly said. Are your doubts on that point too strong? I do not wish to overcome them, Stephen answered.
From Baldhead, king of Flanders, Cranly repeated, rooting again deliberately at his gleaming uncovered teeth. Where did you pick up all that history? O'Keeffe asked. I know all the history of your family, too, Temple said, turning to Stephen. Do you know what Giraldus Cambrensis says about your family? Is he descended from Baldwin too? asked a tall consumptive student with dark eyes.
Stephen stood with Lynch till the score began to rise. Then he plucked him by the sleeve to come away. Lynch obeyed, saying: Let us eke go, as Cranly has it. Stephen smiled at this side-thrust. They passed back through the garden and out through the hall where the doddering porter was pinning up a hall notice in the frame.
Stephen laughed outright. Cranly, picking up the broken stave of a cask from the grass at his feet, turned swiftly and said sternly: Temple, I declare to the living God if you say another word, do you know, to anybody on any subject, I'll kill you SUPER SPOTTUM. He was like you, I fancy, said Stephen, an emotional man. Blast him, curse him! said Cranly broadly. Don't talk to him at all.
I mean, Cranly said, hardening in his speech, did the idea ever occur to you that he was himself a conscious hypocrite, what he called the jews of his time, a whited sepulchre? Or, to put it more plainly, that he was a blackguard? That idea never occurred to me, Stephen answered. But I am curious to know are you trying to make a convert of me or a pervert of yourself?
The night you spent half an hour wrangling with Doherty about the shortest way from Sallygap to Larras. Pothead! Cranly said with calm contempt. What does he know about the way from Sallygap to Larras? Or what does he know about anything for that matter? And the big slobbering washing-pot head of him! He broke into a loud long laugh. Well? Stephen said. Do you remember the rest?
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