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Updated: May 10, 2025
Stephen looked at his thinly clad mother and remembered that a few days before he had seen a mantle priced at twenty guineas in the windows of Barnardo's. Well that's done, said Mr Dedalus. We had better go to dinner, said Stephen. Where? Dinner? said Mr Dedalus. Well, I suppose we had better, what? Some place that's not too dear, said Mrs Dedalus. Underdone's? Yes. Some quiet place.
Breaking down, he began to weep to himself quietly, stumbling a little in his walk. Mr Power took his arm. She's better where she is, he said kindly. I suppose so, Mr Dedalus said with a weak gasp. I suppose she is in heaven if there is a heaven. Corny Kelleher stepped aside from his rank and allowed the mourners to plod by. Sad occasions, Mr Kernan began politely.
And, Martin Cunningham said, we wouldn't have scenes like that when the hearse capsized round Dunphy's and upset the coffin on to the road. That was terrible, Mr Power's shocked face said, and the corpse fell about the road. Terrible! First round Dunphy's, Mr Dedalus said, nodding. Gordon Bennett cup. Praises be to God! Martin Cunningham said piously. Bom! Upset.
He laughed as he heard it for it made him think of McCann, and he saw him a squat figure in a shooting jacket and breeches and with a fair goatee, standing in the wind at Hopkins' corner, and heard him say: Dedalus, you're an antisocial being, wrapped up in yourself. I'm not.
I meant about the... I was thinking about the bad language of the railway porter. Well now, that's all right. Here, Stephen, show me your plate, old chap. Eat away now. Here. He heaped up the food on Stephen's plate and served uncle Charles and Mr Casey to large pieces of turkey and splashes of sauce. Mrs Dedalus was eating little and Dante sat with her hands in her lap. She was red in the face.
Playing it slow, a girl, night I came home, the girl. Door of the stables near Cecilia street. Milly no taste. Queer because we both, I mean. Bald deaf Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Pat set with ink pen quite flat pad. Pat took plate dish knife fork. Pat went. It was the only language Mr Dedalus said to Ben. He heard them as a boy in Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, singing their barcaroles.
Good God he never heard in all his life a note like that he never did then false one we had better part so clear so God he never heard since love lives not a clinking voice lives not ask Lambert he can tell you too. Goulding, a flush struggling in his pale, told Mr Bloom, face of the night, Si in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame.
The story is very short and sweet, Mr Casey said. It was one day down in Arklow, a cold bitter day, not long before the chief died. May God have mercy on him! He closed his eyes wearily and paused. Mr Dedalus took a bone from his plate and tore some meat from it with his teeth, saying: Before he was killed, you mean. Mr Casey opened his eyes, sighed and went on: It was down in Arklow one day.
Well, I hope they haven't moved the Queen's College anyhow, said Mr Dedalus, for I want to show it to this youngster of mine. Along the Mardyke the trees were in bloom. They entered the grounds of the college and were led by the garrulous porter across the quadrangle. But their progress across the gravel was brought to a halt after every dozen or so paces by some reply of the porter's.
Maunder on for hours, talking to himself or the other fellow blowing the bellows. Pwee! A wee little wind piped eeee. In Bloom's little wee. Was he? Mr Dedalus said, returning with fetched pipe. I was with him this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam's... Ay, the Lord have mercy on him. By the bye there's a tuningfork in there on the... Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. The wife has a fine voice. Or had. What?
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