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.
- Jubilantium 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.