The Well of the Saints Part 3

MOLLY BYRNE -- [defiantly.] -- Let you not be talking, Mat Simon, for it's not yourself will be my man, though you'd be crowing and singing fine songs if you'd that hope in you at all.

TIMMY -- [shocked, to Molly Byrne.] -- Let you not be raising your voice when the Saint's above at his prayers.

BRIDE -- [crying out.] -- Whisht.... Whisht.... I'm thinking he's cured.

MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out in the church.] -- Oh, glory be to G.o.d....

SAINT -- [solemnly.] Laus Patri sit et Filio c.u.m Spiritu Parac.l.i.to Qui Suae dono gratiae misertus est Hiberniae....

MARTIN DOUL -- [ecstatically.] -- Oh, glory be to G.o.d, I see now surely.... I see the walls of the church, and the green bits of ferns in them, and yourself, holy father, and the great width of the sky.

[He runs out half-foolish with joy, and comes past Mary Doul as she scrambles to her feet, drawing a little away from her as he goes by.]

TIMMY -- [to the others.] -- He doesn't know her at all.

[The Saint comes out behind Martin Doul, and leads Mary Doul into the church. Martin Doul comes on to the People. The men are between him and the Girls; he verifies his position with his stick.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out joyfully.] -- That's Timmy, I know Timmy by the black of his head.... That's Mat Simon, I know Mat by the length of his legs.... That should be Patch Ruadh, with the gamey eyes in him, and the fiery hair. (He sees Molly Byrne on Mary Doul's seat, and his voice changes completely.) Oh, it was no lie they told me, Mary Doul. Oh, glory to G.o.d and the seven saints I didn't die and not see you at all.

The blessing of G.o.d on the water, and the feet carried it round through the land. The blessing of G.o.d on this day, and them that brought me the Saint, for it's grand hair you have (she lowers her head a little confused), and soft skin, and eyes would make the saints, if they were dark awhile and seeing again, fall down out of the sky. (He goes nearer to her.) Hold up your head, Mary, the way I'll see it's richer I am than the great kings of the east. Hold up your head, I'm saying, for it's soon you'll be seeing me, and I not a bad one at all. [He touches her and she starts up.]

MOLLY BYRNE. Let you keep away from me, and not be soiling my chin.

[People laugh heartily.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [bewildered.] -- It's Molly's voice you have.

MOLLY BYRNE. Why wouldn't I have my own voice? Do you think I'm a ghost?

MARTIN DOUL. Which of you all is herself? (He goes up to Bride.) Is it you is Mary Doul? I'm thinking you're more the like of what they said (peering at her.) For you've yellow hair, and white skin, and it's the smell of my own turf is rising from your shawl. [He catches her shawl.]

BRIDE -- [pulling away her shawl.] -- I'm not your wife, and let you get out of my way. [The People laugh again.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [with misgiving, to another Girl.] -- Is it yourself it is? You're not so fine-looking, but I'm thinking you'd do, with the grand nose you have, and your nice hands and your feet.

GIRL -- [scornfully.] -- I never seen any person that took me for blind, and a seeing woman, I'm thinking, would never wed the like of you.

[She turns away, and the People laugh once more, drawing back a little and leaving him on their left.]

PEOPLE -- [jeeringly.] -- Try again, Martin, try again, and you'll be finding her yet.

MARTIN DOUL -- [pa.s.sionately.] -- Where is it you have her hidden away?

Isn't it a black shame for a drove of pitiful beasts the like of you to be making game of me, and putting a fool's head on me the grand day of my life? Ah, you're thinking you're a fine lot, with your giggling, weeping eyes, a fine lot to be making game of myself and the woman I've heard called the great wonder of the west.

[During this speech, which he gives with his back towards the church, Mary Doul has come out with her sight cured, and come down towards the right with a silly simpering smile, till she is a little behind Martin Doul.]

MARY DOUL -- [when he pauses.] -- Which of you is Martin Doul?

MARTIN DOUL -- [wheeling round.] -- It's her voice surely. [They stare at each other blankly.]

MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Martin Doul.] -- Go up now and take her under the chin and be speaking the way you spoke to myself.

MARTIN DOUL -- [in a low voice, with intensity.] -- If I speak now, I'll speak hard to the two of you.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Mary Doul.] -- You're not saying a word, Mary. What is it you think of himself, with the fat legs on him, and the little neck like a ram?

MARY DOUL. I'm thinking it's a poor thing when the Lord G.o.d gives you sight and puts the like of that man in your way.

MARTIN DOUL. It's on your two knees you should be thanking the Lord G.o.d you're not looking on yourself, for if it was yourself you seen you'd be running round in a short while like the old screeching mad-woman is running round in the glen.

MARY DOUL -- [beginning to realize herself.] -- If I'm not so fine as some of them said, I have my hair, and big eyes, and my white skin.

MARTIN DOUL -- [breaking out into a pa.s.sionate cry.] -- Your hair, and your big eyes, is it?... I'm telling you there isn't a wisp on any gray mare on the ridge of the world isn't finer than the dirty twist on your head. There isn't two eyes in any starving sow isn't finer than the eyes you were calling blue like the sea.

MARY DOUL -- [interrupting him.] -- It's the devil cured you this day with your talking of sows; it's the devil cured you this day, I'm saying, and drove you crazy with lies.

MARTIN DOUL. Isn't it yourself is after playing lies on me, ten years, in the day and in the night; but what is that to you now the Lord G.o.d has given eyes to me, the way I see you an old wizendy hag, was never fit to rear a child to me itself.

MARY DOUL. I wouldn't rear a crumpled whelp the like of you. It's many a woman is married with finer than yourself should be praising G.o.d if she's no child, and isn't loading the earth with things would make the heavens lonesome above, and they scaring the larks, and the crows, and the angels pa.s.sing in the sky.

MARTIN DOUL. Go on now to be seeking a lonesome place where the earth can hide you away; go on now, I'm saying, or you'll be having men and women with their knees bled, and they screaming to G.o.d for a holy water would darken their sight, for there's no man but would liefer be blind a hundred years, or a thousand itself, than to be looking on your like.

MARY DOUL -- [raising her stick.] -- Maybe if I hit you a strong blow you'd be blind again, and having what you want.

[The Saint is seen in the church door with his head bent in prayer.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [raising his stick and driving Mary Doul back towards left.] -- Let you keep off from me now if you wouldn't have me strike out the little handful of brains you have about on the road.

[He is going to strike her, but Timmy catches him by the arm.]

TIMMY. Have you no shame to be making a great row, and the Saint above saying his prayers?

MARTIN DOUL. What is it I care for the like of him? (Struggling to free himself). Let me hit her one good one, for the love of the Almighty G.o.d, and I'll be quiet after till I die.

TIMMY -- [shaking him.] -- Will you whisht, I'm saying.

SAINT -- [coming forward, centre.] -- Are their minds troubled with joy, or is their sight uncertain, the way it does often be the day a person is restored?

TIMMY. It's too certain their sight is, holy father; and they're after making a great fight, because they're a pair of pitiful shows.

SAINT -- [coming between them.] -- May the Lord who has given you sight send a little sense into your heads, the way it won't be on your two selves you'll be looking -- on two pitiful sinners of the earth -- but on the splendour of the Spirit of G.o.d, you'll see an odd time s.h.i.+ning out through the big hills, and steep streams falling to the sea. For if it's on the like of that you do be thinking, you'll not be minding the faces of men, but you'll be saying prayers and great praises, till you'll be living the way the great saints do be living, with little but old sacks, and skin covering their bones. (To Timmy.) Leave him go now, you're seeing he's quiet again. (He frees Martin Doul.) And let you (he turns to Mary Doul) not be raising your voice, a bad thing in a woman; but let the lot of you, who have seen the power of the Lord, be thinking on it in the dark night, and be saying to yourselves it's great pity and love He has for the poor, starving people of Ireland. (He gathers his cloak about him.) And now the Lord send blessing to you all, for I am going on to Annagolan, where there is a deaf woman, and to Laragh, where there are two men without sense, and to Glena.s.sil, where there are children blind from their birth; and then I'm going to sleep this night in the bed of the holy Kevin, and to be prais- ing G.o.d, and asking great blessing on you all. [He bends his head.]

CURTAIN

ACT II

[Village roadside, on left the door of a forge, with broken wheels, etc., lying about. A well near centre, with board above it, and room to pa.s.s behind it. Martin Doul is sitting near forge, cutting sticks.]