Part 132 (2/2)

PRIVATE CARR: _(To Cissy)_ Was he insulting you while me and him was having a p.i.s.s?

LORD TENNYSON: _(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded)_ Theirs not to reason why.

PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him, Harry.

STEPHEN: _(To Private Compton)_ I don't know your name but you are quite right. Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in their s.h.i.+rts. s.h.i.+rt is synechdoche. Part for the whole.

CISSY CAFFREY: _(To The Crowd)_ No, I was with the privates.

STEPHEN: _(Amiably)_ Why not? The bold soldier boy. In my opinion every lady for example...

PRIVATE CARR: _(His cap awry, advances to Stephen)_ Say, how would it be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw?

STEPHEN: _(Looks up to the sky)_ How? Very unpleasant. n.o.ble art of selfpretence. Personally, I detest action. _(He waves his hand)_ Hand hurts me slightly. _Enfin ce sont vos oignons._ _(To Cissy Caffrey)_ Some trouble is on here. What is it precisely?

DOLLY GRAY: _(From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving the sign of the heroine of Jericho)_ Rahab. Cook's son, goodbye. Safe home to Dolly. Dream of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you.

_(The soldiers turn their swimming eyes.)_

BLOOM: _(Elbowing through the crowd, plucks Stephen's sleeve vigorously)_ Come now, professor, that carman is waiting.

STEPHEN: _(Turns)_ Eh? _(He disengages himself)_ Why should I not speak to him or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate orange?

_(He points his finger)_ I'm not afraid of what I can talk to if I see his eye. Retaining the perpendicular.

_(He staggers a pace back)_

BLOOM: _(Propping him)_ Retain your own.

STEPHEN: _(Laughs emptily)_ My centre of gravity is displaced. I have forgotten the trick. Let us sit down somewhere and discuss. Struggle for life is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably the tsar and the king of England, have invented arbitration. _(He taps his brow)_ But in here it is I must kill the priest and the king.

BIDDY THE CLAP: Did you hear what the professor said? He's a professor out of the college.

c.u.n.tY KATE: I did. I heard that.

BIDDY THE CLAP: He expresses himself with such marked refinement of phraseology.

c.u.n.tY KATE: Indeed, yes. And at the same time with such apposite trenchancy.

PRIVATE CARR: _(Pulls himself free and comes forward)_ What's that you're saying about my king?

_(Edward the Seventh appears in an archway. He wars a white jersey on which an image of the Sacred Heart is st.i.tched with the insignia of Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner's and Probyn's horse, Lincoln's Inn bencher and ancient and honourable artillery company of Ma.s.sachusetts. He sucks a red jujube. He is robed as a grand elect perfect and sublime mason with trowel and ap.r.o.n, marked_ made in Germany. _In his left hand he holds a plasterer's bucket on which is printed_ Defense d'uriner. _A roar of welcome greets him.)_

EDWARD THE SEVENTH: _(Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly)_ Peace, perfect peace. For identification, bucket in my hand. Cheerio, boys. _(He turns to his subjects)_ We have come here to witness a clean straight fight and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck. Mahak makar a bak.

_(He shakes hands with Private Carr, Private Compton, Stephen, Bloom and Lynch. General applause. Edward the Seventh lifts his bucket graciously in acknowledgment.)_

PRIVATE CARR: _(To Stephen)_ Say it again.

STEPHEN: _(Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up)_ I understand your point of view though I have no king myself for the moment. This is the age of patent medicines. A discussion is difficult down here. But this is the point. You die for your country. Suppose. _(He places his arm on Private Carr's sleeve)_ Not that I wish it for you. But I say: Let my country die for me. Up to the present it has done so. I didn't want it to die.

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