Mr Dedalus gave a snort of contempt.
—Ah, John, he said. It is true for them. We are an unfortunate priest–ridden race and always were and always will be till the end of the chapter.
Uncle Charles shook his head, saying:
—A bad business! A bad business!
Mr Dedalus repeated:
—A priest–ridden Godforsaken race!
He pointed to the portrait of his grandfather on the wall to his right.
—Do you see that old chap up there, John? he said. He was a good Irishman when there was no money in the job. He was condemned to death as a whiteboy. But he had a saying about our clerical friends, that he would never let one of them put his two feet under his mahogany.
Dante broke in angrily:
—If we are a priest–ridden race we ought to be proud of it! They are the apple of God's eye. TOUCH THEM NOT, says
