Moynihan leaned down towards Stephen's ear and murmured: --What price ellipsoidal balls! chase me, ladies, I'm in the cavalry! His fellow student's rude humour ran like a gust through the cloister of Stephen's mind, shaking into gay life limp priestly vestments that hung upon the walls, setting them to sway and caper in a sabbath of misrule. I did so; I applied my face to the pane and looked, as he had looked, into the room. Just as every sense is afflicted with a fitting torment, so is every spiritual faculty; the fancy with horrible images, the sensitive faculty with alternate longing and rage, the mind and understanding with an interior darkness more terrible even than the exterior darkness which reigns in that dreadful prison. --That'S what you fellows want: and plenty of it to make you work.