Page 253 - a-portrait-of-the-artist-as-a-young-man

him and he was hotly disputing with Cranly and the two
players who had finished their game. A match of four was
arranged, Cranly insisting, however, that his ball should
be used. He let it rebound twice or thrice to his hand and
struck it strongly and swiftly towards the base of the alley,
exclaiming in answer to its thud:
—Your soul!
Stephen stood with Lynch till the score began to rise.
Then he plucked him by the sleeve to come away. Lynch
obeyed, saying:
—Let us eke go, as Cranly has it.
Stephen smiled at this side-thrust.
They passed back through the garden and out through
the hall where the doddering porter was pinning up a hall
notice in the frame. At the foot of the steps they halted and
Stephen took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and of-
fered it to his companion.
—I know you are poor, he said.
—Damn your yellow insolence, answered Lynch.
This second proof of Lynch’s culture made Stephen smile
again.
—It was a great day for European culture, he said, when
you made up your mind to swear in yellow.
They lit their cigarettes and turned to the right. After a
pause Stephen began:
—Aristotle has not defined pity and terror. I have. I
say—
Lynch halted and said bluntly:
—Stop! I won’t listen! I am sick. I was out last night on a

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