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— He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord . Thus spake Zarathustra . His plump body plunged . — We’ll see you again , Haines said , turning as Stephen walked up the path and smiling at wild Irish . Horn of a bull , hoof of a horse , smile of a Saxon . — The Ship , Buck Mulligan cried . Half twelve . — Good , Stephen said . He walked along the upwardcurving path . Liliata rutilantium . Turma circumdet . Iubilantium te virginum . The priest’s grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly . I will not sleep here tonight . Home also I cannot go . A voice , sweettoned and sustained , called to him from the sea . Turning the curve he waved his hand . It called again . A sleek brown head , a seal’s , far out on the water , round . Usurper . [ 2 ] — You , Cochrane , what city sent for him ? — Tarentum , sir . — Very good . Well ? — There was a battle , sir . — Very good . Where ? The boy’s blank face asked the blank window . Fabled by the daughters of memory . And yet it was in some way if not as memory fabled it . A phrase , then , of impatience , thud of Blake’s wings of excess . I hear the ruin of all space , shattered glass and toppling masonry , and time one livid final flame . What’s left us then ? — I forget the place , sir . 279 B . C . — Asculum , Stephen said , glancing at the name and date in the gorescarred book . — Yes , sir . And he said : Another victory like that and we are done for . That phrase the world had remembered . A dull ease of the mind . From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers , leaned upon his spear . Any general to any officers . They lend ear . — You , Armstrong , Stephen said . What was the end of Pyrrhus ? — End of Pyrrhus , sir ? — I know , sir . Ask me , sir , Comyn said . — Wait . You , Armstrong . Do you know anything about Pyrrhus ? A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong’s satchel . He curled them between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly . Crumbs adhered to the tissue of his lips . A sweetened boy’s breath . Welloff people , proud that their eldest son was in the navy . Vico Road , Dalkey . — Pyrrhus , sir ? Pyrrhus , a pier . All laughed . Mirthless high malicious laughter . Armstrong looked round at his classmates , silly glee in profile . In a moment they will laugh more loudly , aware of my lack of rule and of the fees their papas pay . — Tell me now , Stephen said , poking the boy’s shoulder with the book , what is a pier . — A pier , sir , Armstrong said . A thing out in the water . A kind of a bridge . Kingstown pier , sir . Some laughed again : mirthless but with meaning . Two in the back bench whispered . Yes . They knew : had never learned nor ever been innocent . All . With envy he watched their faces : Edith , Ethel , Gerty , Lily . Their likes : their breaths , too , sweetened with tea and jam , their bracelets tittering in the struggle . — Kingstown pier , Stephen said . Yes , a disappointed bridge . The words troubled their gaze . — How , sir ? Comyn asked . A bridge is across a river .
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