't, man, Mr Dedalus said, shy, listless.

Strongly.

--Go on, blast you! Ben Dollard growled. Get it out in bits.

--_M'appari,_ Simon, Father Cowley said.

Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his long
arms outheld. Hoarsely the apple of his throat hoarsed softly. Softly he
sang to a dusty seascape there: _A Last Farewell._ A headland, a ship, a
sail upon the billows. Farewell. A lovely girl, her veil awave upon the
wind upon the headland, wind around her.

Cowley sang:

_--M'appari tutt'amor:
Il mio sguardo l'incontr..._

She waved, unhearing Cowley, her veil, to one departing, dear one, to
wind, love, speeding sail, return.

--Go on, Simon.

--Ah, sure, my dancing days are done, Ben... Well...

Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, sitting,
touched the obedient keys.

--No, Simon, Father Cowley turned. Play it in the original. One flat.

The keys, obedient, rose higher, told, faltered, confessed, confused.

Up stage strode Father Cowley.

--Here, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said. Get up.

By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.
Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at meat fit for princes sat princes Bloom
and Goulding. Princes at meat they raised and drank, Power and cider.

Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie said: _Sonnambula._ He
heard Joe Maas sing that one night. Ah, what M'Guckin! Yes. In his way.
Choirboy style. Maas was the boy. Massboy. A lyrical tenor if you like.
Never forget it. Never.

Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain.
Backache he. Bright's bright eye. Next item on the programme. Paying the
piper. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. Stave it off awhile.
Sings too: _Down among the dead men._ Appropriate. Kidney pie. Sweets to
the. Not making much hand of it. Best value in. Characteristic of him.
Power. Particular about his drink. Flaw in the glass, fresh Vartry
water. Fecking matches from counters to save. Then squander a sovereign
in dribs and drabs. And when he's wanted not a farthing. Screwed
refusing to pay his fare. Curious types.

Never would Richie forget that night. As long as he lived: never. In the
gods of the old Royal with little Peake. And when the first note.

Speech paused on Richie's lips.

Coming out with a whopper now. Rhapsodies about damn all.

Believes his own lies. Does really. Wonderful liar. But want a good
memory.

--Wh