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One thing I never understood； he said； to be original on the spur of the moment； why they put tables upside down at night； I mean chairs upside down on the tables In cafes。
To which impromptu the never failing Bloom replied without a moment's hesitation； saying straight off：
To sweep the floor in the morning。
So saying he skipped around nimbly； considering frankly； at the same time apologetic； to get on his panion's right； a habit of his； by the by； the right side being； in classical idiom； his tender Achilles。 The night air was certainly now a treat to breathe though Stephen was a bit weak on his pins。
It will （the air） do you good； Bloom said； meaning also the walk； in a moment。 The only thing is to walk then you'll feel a different man。 It's not far。 Lean on me。
Accordingly he passed his left arm in Stephen's right and led him on accordingly。
Yes； Stephen said uncertainly； because he thought he felt a strange kind of flesh of a different man approach him； sinewless and wobbly and all that。
Anyhow； they passed the sentrybox with stones； brazier； etc。 where the municipal supernumerary； ex…Gumley； was still to all intents and purposes wrapped in the arms of Murphy； as the adage has it； dreaming of fresh fields and pastures new。 And apropos of coffin of stones； the analogy was not at all bad； as it was in fact a stoning to death on the part of seventytwo out of eighty odd constituencies that ratted at the time of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class； probably the selfsame evicted tenants he had put in their holdings。
So they passed on to chatting about music； a form of art for which Bloom； as a pure amateur； possessed the greatest love； as they made tracks arm…in…arm across Beresford place。 Wagnerian music； though confessedly grand in its way； was a bit too heavy for Bloom and hard to follow at the first go…off but the music of Mercadante's Huguenots； Meyerbeer's Seven Words on the Cross； and Mozart's Twelfth Mass； he simply revelled in； the Gloria in that being to his mind the acme of first class music as such； literally knocking everything else into a cocked hat。 He infinitely preferred the sacred music of the catholic church to anything the opposite shop could offer in that line such as those Moody and Sankey hymns or Bid me to live and I will live thy protestant to be。 He also yielded to none in his admiration of Rossini's Stabat Mater； a work simply abounding in immortal numbers； in which his wife； Madam Marion Tweedy； made a hit； a veritable sensation； he might safely say greatly adding to her other laurels and putting the others totally in the shade in the jesuit fathers' church in Upper Gardiner street； the sacred edifice being thronged to the doors to hear her with virtuosos； or virtuosi rather。 There was the unanimous opinion that there was none to e up to her and； suffice it to say in a place of worship for music of a sacred character； there was a generally voiced desire for an encore。 On the whole； though favouring preferably light opera of the Don Giovanni description； and Martha； a gem in its line； he had a penchant； though with only a surface knowledge； for the severe classical school such as Mendelssohn。 And talking of that； taking it for granted he knew all about the old favourites； he mentioned par excellence Lionel's air in Martha； M'appari； which； curiously enough； he heard； or overheard； to be more accurate； on yesterday； a privilege he keenly appreciated； from the lips of Stephen's respected father； sung to perfection； a study of the number； in fact； which made all the others take a back seat。 Stephen； in reply to a politely put query； said he didn't but launched out into praises of Shakespeare's songs； at least of in or about that period； the lutenist Dowland who lived in Fetter Lane near Gerard the herbalist； who anno ludendo hausi； Doulandus； an instrument he was contemplating purchasing from Mr Arnold Dolmetsch； whom Bloom did not quite recall； though the name certainly sounded familiar； for sixtyfive guineas and Farnaby and son with their dux and es conceits and Byrd （William）； who played the virginals； he said； in the Queen's Chapel or anywhere else he found them and one Tomkins who made toys or airs and John Bull。
On the roadway which they were approaching whilst still speaking beyond the swing chain； a horse； dragging a sweeper； paced on the paven ground； brushing a long swathe of mire up so that with the noise Bloom was not perfectly certain whether he had caught a right the allusion to sixtyfive guineas and John Bull。 He inquired if it was John Bull the political celebrity of that ilk； as it struck him； the two identical names； as a striking coincidence。
By the chains； the horse slowly swerved to turn； which perceiving Bloom； who was keeping a sharp lookout as usual plucked the other's sleeve gently； jocosely remarking：
Our lives are in peril tonight。 Beware of the steamroller。
They thereupon stopped。 Bloom looked at the head of a horse not worth anything like sixtyfive guineas； suddenly in evidence in the dark quite near； so that it seemed new； a different grouping of bones and even flesh； because palpably it was a fourwalker； a hipshaker； a blackbuttocker； a taildangler； a headhanger； putting his hind foot foremost the while the lord of his creation sat on the perch； busy with his thoughts。 But such a good poor brute； he was sorry he hadn't a lump of sugar but； as he wisely reflected； you could scarcely be prepared for every emergency that might crop up。 He was just a big foolish nervous noodly kind of a horse； without a second care in the world。 But even a dog； he reflected； take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan's； of the same size； would be a holy horror to face。 But it was no animal's fault in particular if he was built that way like the camel； ship of the desert； distilling grapes into potheen in his hump。 Nine tenths of them all could be caged or trained； nothing beyond the art of man barring the bees； whale with a harpoon hairpin； alligator； tickle the small of his back and he sees the joke； chalk a circle for a rooster； tiger； my eagle eye。 These timely reflections anent the brutes of the field occupied his mind； somewhat distracted from Stephen's words； while the ship of the street was manoeuvring and Stephen went on about the highly interesting old。。。
What's this I was saying？ Ah； yes！ My wife； he intimated； plunging in medias res； would have the greatest of pleasure in making your acquaintance as she is passionately attached to music of any kind。
He looked sideways in a friendly fashion at the sideface of Stephen； image of his mother； which was not quite the same as the usual blackguard type they unquestionably had an indubitable hankering after as he was perhaps not that way built。
Still； supposing he had his father's gift； as he more than suspected； it opened up new vistas in his mind； such as Lady Fingall's Irish industries concert on the preceding Monday； and aristocracy in general。
Exquisite variations he was now describing on an air Youth here has End by Jans Pieter Sweelinck； a Dutchman of Amsterdam where the frows e from。 Even more he liked an old German song of Johannes Jeep about the clear sea and the voices of sirens； sweet murde