Mourners came out through the gates: woman and a girl. Leanjawed
harpy, hard woman at a bargain, her bonnet awry. Girl's face stained with
dirt and tears, holding the woman's arm, looking up at her for a sign to
cry. Fish's face, bloodless and livid.

The mutes shouldered the coffin and bore it in through the gates. So
much dead weight. Felt heavier myself stepping out of that bath. First the
stiff: then the friends of the stiff. Corny Kelleher and the boy followed
with their wreaths. Who is that beside them? Ah, the brother-in-law.

All walked after.

Martin Cunningham whispered:

--I was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom.

--What? Mr Power whispered. How so?

--His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham whispered. Had the
Queen's hotel in Ennis. You heard him say he was going to Clare.
Anniversary.

--O God! Mr Power whispered. First I heard of it. Poisoned himself?

He glanced behind him to where a face with dark thinking eyes
followed towards the cardinal's mausoleum. Speaking.

--Was he insured? Mr Bloom asked.