1 Ulysses
—O God! Mr Power whispered. First I heard of it. Poi-
soned himself?
He glanced behind him to where a face with dark think-
ing eyes followed towards the cardinal’s mausoleum.
Speaking.
—Was he insured? Mr Bloom asked.
—I believe so, Mr Kernan answered. But the policy was
heavily mortgaged. Martin is trying to get the youngster
into Artane.
—How many children did he leave?
—Five. Ned Lambert says he’ll try to get one of the girls
into Todd’s.
—A sad case, Mr Bloom said gently. Five young chil-
dren.
—A great blow to the poor wife, Mr Kernan added.
—Indeed yes, Mr Bloom agreed.
Has the laugh at him now.
He looked down at the boots he had blacked and pol-
ished. She had outlived him. Lost her husband. More dead
for her than for me. One must outlive the other. Wise men
say. There are more women than men in the world. Condole
with her. Your terrible loss. I hope you’ll soon follow him.
For Hindu widows only. She would marry another. Him?
No. Yet who knows after. Widowhood not the thing since
the old queen died. Drawn on a guncarriage. Victoria and
Albert. Frogmore memorial mourning. But in the end she
put a few violets in her bonnet. Vain in her heart of hearts.
All for a shadow. Consort not even a king. Her son was the
substance. Something new to hope for not like the past she