Your absurd name, an ancient Greek! He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet, laughing to himself. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips. The plump shadowed face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages.
Switch off the current, will you? He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gatheringĪbout his legs the loose folds of his gown. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm. 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. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. He added in a preacher’s tone: -For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly. 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. 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. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. 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 held the bowl aloft and intoned: -Introibo ad altare Dei. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. I- Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.
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