I am a catholic as my father was and his father before him
and his father before him again, when we gave up our lives rather than
sell our faith.
--The more shame to you now, Dante said, to speak as you do.
--The story, John, said Mr Dedalus smiling. Let us have the story
anyhow.
--Catholic indeed! repeated Dante ironically. The blackest protestant
in the land would not speak the language I have heard this evening.
Mr Dedalus began to sway his head to and fro, crooning like a country
singer.
--I am no protestant, I tell you again, said Mr Casey, flushing.
Mr Dedalus, still crooning and swaying his head, began to sing in a
grunting nasal tone:
O, come all you Roman catholics
That never went to mass.
He took up his knife and fork again in good humour and set to eating,
saying to Mr Casey:
--Let us have the story, John. It will help us to digest.
Stephen looked with affection at Mr Casey's face which stared across
the table over his joined hands. He liked to sit near him at the fire,
looking up at his dark fierce face. But his dark eyes were never fierce
and his slow voice was good to listen to. But why was he then against
the priests? Because Dante must be right then. But he had heard his
father say that she was a spoiled nun and that she had come out of the
convent in the Alleghanies when her brother had got the money from the
savages for the trinkets and the chainies.
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