Part 38 (1/2)

Lenehan extended his hands in protest.

--But my riddle! he said. What opera is like a railwayline?

--Opera? Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.

Lenehan announced gladly:

--_The Rose of Castile_. See the wheeze? Rows of cast steel. Gee!

He poked Mr O'Madden Burke mildly in the spleen. Mr O'Madden Burke fell back with grace on his umbrella, feigning a gasp.

--Help! he sighed. I feel a strong weakness.

Lenehan, rising to tiptoe, fanned his face rapidly with the rustling tissues.

The professor, returning by way of the files, swept his hand across Stephen's and Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties.

--Paris, past and present, he said. You look like communards.

--Like fellows who had blown up the Bastile, J. J. O'Molloy said in quiet mockery. Or was it you shot the lord lieutenant of Finland between you? You look as though you had done the deed. General Bobrikoff.

OMNIUM GATHERUM

--We were only thinking about it, Stephen said.

--All the talents, Myles Crawford said. Law, the cla.s.sics...

--The turf, Lenehan put in.

--Literature, the press.

--If Bloom were here, the professor said. The gentle art of advertis.e.m.e.nt.

--And Madam Bloom, Mr O'Madden Burke added. The vocal muse. Dublin's prime favourite.

Lenehan gave a loud cough.

--Ahem! he said very softly. O, for a fresh of breath air! I caught a cold in the park. The gate was open.

YOU CAN DO IT!

The editor laid a nervous hand on Stephen's shoulder.

--I want you to write something for me, he said. Something with a bite in it. You can do it. I see it in your face. _In the lexicon of youth_ ...

See it in your face. See it in your eye. Lazy idle little schemer.

--Foot and mouth disease! the editor cried in scornful invective. Great nationalist meeting in Borris-in-Ossory. All b.a.l.l.s! Bulldosing the public! Give them something with a bite in it. Put us all into it, d.a.m.n its soul. Father, Son and Holy Ghost and Jakes M'Carthy.