th the struggle they drew apart, panting. Stephen
bent down towards Davin who, intent on the game, had paid no heed to
the talk of the others.

--And how is my little tame goose? he asked. Did he sign, too?

David nodded and said:

--And you, Stevie?

Stephen shook his head.

--You're a terrible man, Stevie, said Davin, taking the short pipe
from his mouth, always alone.

--Now that you have signed the petition for universal peace, said
Stephen, I suppose you will burn that little copybook I saw in your
room.

As Davin did not answer, Stephen began to quote:

--Long pace, fianna! Right incline, fianna! Fianna, by numbers,
salute, one, two!

--That's a different question, said Davin. I'm an Irish nationalist,
first and foremost. But that's you all out. You're a born sneerer,
Stevie.

--When you make the next rebellion with hurleysticks, said Stephen,
and want the indispensable informer, tell me. I can find you a few in
this college.

--I can't understand you, said Davin. One time I hear you talk against
English literature. Now you talk against the Irish informers. What with
your name and your ideas--Are you Irish at all?

--Come with me now to the office of arms and I will show you the tree
of my family, said Stephen.

--Then be one of us, said Davin. Why don't you learn Irish? Why did you
drop out of the league class after the first lesson?

--You know one reason why, answered Stephen.

Davin tossed his head and laughed.

--Oh, come now, he said. Is it on account of that certain young lady
and Father Moran? But that's all in your own mind, Stevie. They were
only talking and laughing.

Stephen paused and laid a friendly hand upon Davin's shoulder.

--Do you remember, he said, when we knew each other first? The first
morning we met you asked me to show you the way to the matriculation
class, putting a very strong stress on the first syllable. You
remember? Then you used to address the jesuits as father, you remember?
I ask myself about you: IS HE AS INNOCENT AS HIS SPEECH?

--I'm a simple person, said Davin. You know that. When you told me
that night in Harcourt Street those things about your private life,
honest to God, Stevie, I was not able to eat my dinner. I was quite
bad. I was awake a long time that night. Why did you tell me those
things?

--Thanks, said Stephen. You mean I am a monster.

--No, said Davin. But I wish you had not told me.

A tide began to surge beneath the calm surfac