At the foot
of the steps they halted and Stephen took a packet of cigarettes from
his pocket and offered 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 yellow
drunk with Horan and Goggins.
Stephen went on:
--Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of
whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with
the human sufferer. Terror is the feeling which arrests the mind in the
presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and
unites it with the secret cause.
--Repeat, said Lynch.
Stephen repeated the definitions slowly.
--A girl got into a hansom a few days ago, he went on, in London. She
was on her way to meet her mother whom she had not seen for many years.
At the corner of a street the shaft of a lorry shivered the window of
the hansom in the shape of a star.
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