MrBloomlookedbacktowardsthechoir。Notgoingtobeanymusic。Pity。WhohastheorganhereIwonder？OldGlynnheknewhowtomakethatinstrumenttalk，thevibrato:fiftypoundsayeartheysayhehadinGardinerstreet。Mollywasinfinevoicethatday，theStabatMaterofRossini。FatherBernardVaughan’ssermonfirst。ChristorPilate？Christ，butdon’tkeepusallnightoverit。Musictheywanted。Footdrillstopped。Couldhearapindrop。Itoldhertopitchhervoiceagainstthatcorner。Icouldfeelthethrillintheair，thefull，thepeoplelookingup:
Quisesthomo！
Someofthatoldsacredmusicissplendid。Mercadante:sevenlastwords。Mozart’stwelfthmass:theGloriainthat。Thoseoldpopeswerekeenonmusic，onartandstatuesandpicturesofallkinds。Palestrinaforexampletoo。Theyhadagayoldtimewhileitlasted。Healthytoochanting，regularhours，thenbrewliqueurs。Benedictine。GreenChartreuse。Still，havingeunuchsintheirchoirthatwascomingitabitthick。Whatkindofvoiceisit？Mustbecurioustohearaftertheirownstrongbasses。Connoisseurs。Supposetheywouldn’tfeelanythingafter。Kindofaplacid。Noworry。Fallintofleshdon’tthey？Gluttons，tall，longlegs。Whoknows？Eunuch。Onewayoutofit。
Hesawthepriestbenddownandkissthealtarandthenfaceaboutandblessallthepeople。Allcrossedthemselvesandstoodup。MrBloomglancedabouthimandthenstoodup，lookingovertherisenhats。Standupatthegospelofcourse。Thenallsettleddownontheirkneesagainandhesatbackquietlyinhisbench。Thepriestcamedownfromthealtar，holdingthethingoutfromhim，andheandthemassboyansweredeachotherinLatin。Thenthepriestkneltdownandbegantoreadoffacard:——
OGod，ourrefugeandourstrength。