Портрет художника в юности

           Itleadsyououtofthemazeintoanewgaudylecture-roomwhereMacCann,withonehandonTHEORIONOFSPECIESandtheotherhandonthenewtestament,tellsyouthatyouadmiredthegreatflanksofVenusbecauseyoufeltthatshewouldbearyouburlyoffspringandadmiredhergreatbreastsbecauseyoufeltthatshewouldgivegoodmilktoherchildrenandyours.

           —ThenMacCannisasulphur-yellowliar,saidLynchenergetically.

           —Thereremainsanotherwayout,saidStephen,laughing.

           —Towit?saidLynch.

           —Thishypothesis,Stephenbegan.

           AlongdrayladenwitholdironcameroundthecornerofSirPatrickDun’shospitalcoveringtheendofStephen’sspeechwiththeharshroarofjangledandrattlingmetal.Lynchclosedhisearsandgaveoutoathafteroathtillthedrayhadpassed.Thenheturnedonhisheelrudely.Stephenturnedalsoandwaitedforafewmomentstillhiscompanion’sill-humourhadhaditsvent.

           —Thishypothesis,Stephenrepeated,istheotherwayout:that,thoughthesameobjectmaynotseembeautifultoallpeople,allpeoplewhoadmireabeautifulobjectfindinitcertainrelationswhichsatisfyandcoincidewiththestagesthemselvesofallestheticapprehension.Theserelationsofthesensible,visibletoyouthroughoneformandtomethroughanother,mustbethereforethenecessaryqualitiesofbeauty.Now,wecanreturntoouroldfriendsaintThomasforanotherpennyworthofwisdom.