It was not like the smell of the old peasants who knelt at the back of the chapel at Sunday mass. Nor did they stay in matters heretical, but any subject that was not to their palate, they either condemned in a Prohibition, or had it straight into the new purgatory of an index. A sudden swift hiss fell from the windows above him and he knew that the electric lamps had been switched on in the reader's room. Temple, after a few moments, sidled across to Stephen and said: --Excuse me, I wanted to ask you, do you believe that Jean-Jacques Rousseau was a sincere man? Stephen laughed outright.