The chapter opens with Stephen’s dedicating himself to a life of "resolute piety," vowing to adhere rigidly to the rituals of the Catholic faith. Every day he attends early Mass, says rosaries on the beads which he carries in his trouser pockets, offers up supplications to remit the sins of those in Purgatory, and prays daily to be purged of the seven deadly sins.
In order to prove the sincerity of his renewed dedication to God, Stephen begins a series of mortifications of the flesh, trying his best to undo his sins of the past. "Each of his senses was brought under a rigorous discipline" (emphasis ours). He wakes early, endures the raw morning wind on his way to Mass, observes all Church-sanctioned fasts, and even attempts to sleep without movement in order to bring each of his senses under this new, harsh discipline.
As a result, Stephen begins to feel awe for the "august incomprehensibility" of the Trinity; he is similarly overwhelmed by his present state of grace and by the love which he believes God has for his soul. In time, however, old feelings—anger, willfulness, and desire—begin to creep under this new, amended facade. He begins to doubt the condition of his soul, and he fears that his soul might already have "fallen," without his knowledge.
Stephen’s doubts increase. He wonders whether his hasty confession to the Capuchin was genuine or merely a reaction to Father Arnall's orchestration of terror. He searches for a sign that his "confession [was] good," then realizes with astonishment that the "surest sign" of a good confession is this fact: "I have amended my life, have I not?"
Coincidentally, the director of the school has taken notice of Stephen's fervent piety and invites him to his office to discuss the possibility of a religious vocation for Stephen. During the meeting, Stephen is puzzled; the director's tone reveals an almost flippant worldliness, and Stephen also discerns obvious attempts at manipulation.
Stephen confesses to the director that he has considered becoming a priest, and almost immediately, he begins to fantasize about the power he would possess if he were to join the clergy. The director's somber warning to consider the seriousness of "the call" ends the meeting, and they part with a handshake and an agreement to pray about Stephen’s decision.
Afterward, Stephen considers the grim realities of the clerical life and the truth about his apparent inability to control troubling, emotional urges which continue to surface. As he recalls the restrictions of his years at Clongowes and Belvedere, his body seems instinctively to revolt against thoughts of living for the rest of his life in a confined community. He begins to realize that the basic weakness of his nature will inevitably lead him to "fall" and that his probable "destiny [is] to be elusive of social or religious orders."
Troubled by these truths while he is walking home, Stephen crosses the bridge over the Tolka River. Reflecting on his past, he looks back and sees the shrine of the Blessed Virgin; it seems to be a "faded" memory. Stephen turns and goes forward with an unburdened heart toward the "disorder, the misrule and confusion of his father's house."
At home, he learns from his sister that the family is moving again. Once more, Mr. Dedalus' mounting debts have dashed any hopes for stability in the Dedalus household. The young children attempt to make light of the situation by playing word games and singing songs, but Stephen notices that despite their gaiety, they all seem to be "weary of life." As he watches them, and even joins them briefly in song, he realizes that he deeply desires to be free—not only free from the religious life, but free from the hopelessness and the poverty of his family.
Walking seaward, Stephen feels oddly optimistic—perhaps his destiny is not doomed, after all. He is sure that he can find "better things" in life if he attends the university. He is troubled now only because he doesn't have a sense of direction for his life.
Shortly thereafter, a group of his friends playfully announce his arrival: "Here comes The Dedalus!" Stephen interprets this mild derision as a kind of prophesy, and impetuously he casts aside his uncertainties. He vows to be like his namesake—Daedalus, the "great artificer." He will soar above the religious and cultural restrictions of his past and fly toward a future of his own artistic freedom.
Realizing the importance of this revelation, he senses that he has left his boyhood behind. "Alone . . . unheeded . . . and near to the wild heart of life," Stephen moves toward the sea, where he sees a young girl standing in midstream, gazing out to sea, her skirts tucked up around her waist. Stephen studies her as she stands before him, and she returns his gaze. Silently, she gives him the answer he seeks.
This is a moment of epiphany for Stephen. He cries out "Heavenly God!" in "an outburst of profane joy." In this girl's image, Stephen realizes the importance of solitude in the appreciation of beauty. He can "worship" her as though she were an object of art, and he no longer has to feel shame because of his desire for her. She reveals to Stephen that his vocation, or his "call," is to live his life fully, regardless of error, and while doing so, "recreate life out of life!"
The chapter concludes as Stephen pauses to rest on the beach. He falls asleep and awakens much later, long after night has fallen.
