Page 241 - a-portrait-of-the-artist-as-a-young-man

—EGO HABEO.
—What is it for?
—QUOD?
—What is it for?
Cranly turned his pale face to Stephen and said blandly
and bitterly:
—PER PAX UNIVERSALIS.
Stephen pointed to the Tsar’s photograph and said:
—He has the face of a besotted Christ.
The scorn and anger in his voice brought Cranly’s eyes
back from a calm survey of the walls of the hall.
—Are you annoyed? he asked.
—No, answered Stephen.
—Are you in bad humour?
—No.
—CREDO UT VOS SANGUINARIUS MENDAX ES-
TIS, said Cranly, QUIA FACIES VOSTRA MONSTRAT
UT VOS IN DAMNO MALO HUMORE ESTIS.
Moynihan, on his way to the table, said in Stephen’s ear:
—MacCann is in tiptop form. Ready to shed the last drop.
Brand new world. No stimulants and votes for the bitches.
Stephen smiled at the manner of this confidence and,
when Moynihan had passed, turned again to meet Cranly’s
eyes.
—Perhaps you can tell me, he said, why he pours his soul
so freely into my ear. Can you?
A dull scowl appeared on Cranly’s forehead. He stared
at the table where Moynihan had bent to write his name on
the roll, and then said flatly:

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