—­Let them leave politics alone, said Mr Casey, or the people may leave their church alone.

—­You hear? said Dante, turning to Mrs Dedalus.

—­Mr Casey!  Simon! said Mrs Dedalus, let it end now.

—­Too bad!  Too bad! said uncle Charles.

—­What? cried Mr Dedalus.  Were we to desert him at the bidding of the
English people?

—­He was no longer worthy to lead, said Dante.  He was a public sinner.

—­We are all sinners and black sinners, said Mr Casey coldly.

—­Woe be to the man by whom the scandal cometh! said Mrs Riordan.  It would be better for him that A Millstone were tied about his neck and that he were cast into the depths of the sea rather than that he should scandalize one of these, my least little ones.  That is the language of the Holy Ghost.

—­And very bad language if you ask me, said Mr Dedalus coolly.

—­Simon!  Simon! said uncle Charles.  The boy.

—­Yes, yes, said Mr Dedalus.  I meant about the...  I was thinking about the bad language of the railway porter.  Well now, that’s all right.  Here, Stephen, show me your plate, old chap.  Eat away now.  Here.

He heaped up the food on Stephen’s plate and served uncle Charles and Mr Casey to large pieces of turkey and splashes of sauce.  Mrs Dedalus was eating little and Dante sat with her hands in her lap.  She was red in the face.  Mr Dedalus rooted with the carvers at the end of the dish and said: 

—­There’s a tasty bit here we call the pope’s nose.  If any lady or gentleman...

He held a piece of fowl up on the prong of the carving fork.  Nobody spoke.  He put it on his own plate, saying: 

—­Well, you can’t say but you were asked.  I think I had better eat it myself because I’m not well in my health lately.

He winked at Stephen and, replacing the dish-cover, began to eat again.

There was a silence while he ate.  Then he said: 

—­Well now, the day kept up fine after all.  There were plenty of strangers down too.

Nobody spoke.  He said again: 

—­I think there were more strangers down than last Christmas.

He looked round at the others whose faces were bent towards their plates and, receiving no reply, waited for a moment and said bitterly: 

—­Well, my Christmas dinner has been spoiled anyhow.

—­There could be neither luck nor grace, Dante said, in a house where there is no respect for the pastors of the church.

Mr Dedalus threw his knife and fork noisily on his plate.

—­Respect! he said.  Is it for Billy with the lip or for the tub of guts up in Armagh?  Respect!