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— I — [ 1 ] Stately , plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead , bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed . A yellow dressinggown , ungirdled , was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air . He held the bowl aloft and intoned : — Introibo ad altare Dei . Halted , he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely : — Come up , Kinch ! Come up , you fearful jesuit ! Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest . He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower , the surrounding land and the awaking mountains . Then , catching sight of Stephen Dedalus , he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air , gurgling in his throat and shaking his head . Stephen Dedalus , displeased and sleepy , leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him , equine in its length , and at the light untonsured hair , grained and hued like pale oak . Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly . — Back to barracks ! he said sternly . He added in a preacher’s tone : — For this , O dearly beloved , is the genuine Christine : body and soul and blood and ouns . Slow music , please . Shut your eyes , gents . One moment . A little trouble about those white corpuscles . Silence , all . He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call , then paused awhile in rapt attention , his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points . Chrysostomos . Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm . — Thanks , old chap , he cried briskly . That will do nicely . Switch off the current , will you ? He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher , gathering about his legs the loose folds of his gown . The plump shadowed face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate , patron of arts in the middle ages . A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips . — The mockery of it ! he said gaily . Your absurd name , an ancient Greek ! He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet , laughing to himself . Stephen Dedalus stepped up , followed him wearily halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest , watching him still as he propped his mirror on the parapet , dipped the brush in the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck . Buck Mulligan’s gay voice went on . — My name is absurd too : Malachi Mulligan , two dactyls . But it has a Hellenic ring , hasn’t it ? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself . We must go to Athens . Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork out twenty quid ? He laid the brush aside and , laughing with delight , cried : — Will he come ? The jejune jesuit ! Ceasing , he began to shave with care . — Tell me , Mulligan , Stephen said quietly . — Yes , my love ? — How long is Haines going to stay in this tower ? Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder .
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