Page 393 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

They followed.
Offend me still. Speak on.
Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street.
No birds. Frail from the housetops two plumes of smoke

ascended, pluming, and in a flaw of softness softly were
blown.
Cease to strive. Peace of the druid priests of
Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar.
Laud we the gods
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
From our bless’d altars.

* * * * *

The superior, the very reverend John Conmee S.J. reset
his smooth watch in his interior pocket as he came down
the presbytery steps. Five to three. Just nice time to walk
to Artane. What was that boy’s name again? Dignam. Yes.
Vere dignum et iustum est. Brother Swan was the person to
see. Mr Cunningham’s letter. Yes. Oblige him, if possible.
Good practical catholic: useful at mission time.
A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy
jerks of his crutches, growled some notes. He jerked short
before the convent of the sisters of charity and held out a

392 of 1305