the well of the saints-第9章

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think　you're　not　a　wrinkled　poor　woman　is　looking　like　three

scores；　or　two　scores　and　a　half！



MARY　DOUL。　　I　would　not；　Martin。　（She　leans　forward　earnestly。）　

For　when　I　seen　myself　in　them　pools；　I　seen　my　hair　would　be

gray　or　white；　maybe；　in　a　short　while；　and　I　seen　with　it　that

I'd　a　face　would　be　a　great　wonder　when　it'll　have　soft　white

hair　falling　around　it；　the　way　when　I'm　an　old　woman　there　won't

be　the　like　of　me　surely　in　the　seven　counties　of　the　east。



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇with　real　admiration。＇　　You're　a　cute　thinking

woman；　Mary　Doul；　and　it's　no　lie。



MARY　DOUL　　＇triumphantly。＇　　I　am；　surely；　and　I'm　telling　you

a　beautiful　white…haired　woman　is　a　grand　thing　to　see；　for　I'm

told　when　Kitty　Bawn　was　selling　poteen　below；　the　young　men

itself　would　never　tire　to　be　looking　in　her　face。



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇taking　off　his　hat　and　feeling　his　head；　speaking

with　hesitation。＇　　Did　you　think　to　look；　Mary　Doul；　would

there　be　a　whiteness　the　like　of　that　coming　upon　me？



MARY　DOUL　　＇with　extreme　contempt。＇　　On　you；　God　help　you！　。

。　。　　In　a　short　while　you'll　have　a　head　on　you　as　bald　as　an　old

turnip　you'd　see　rolling　round　in　the　muck。　　You　need　never　talk

again　of　your　fine　looks；　Martin　Doul；　for　the　day　of　that　talk's

gone　for　ever。



MARTIN　DOUL。　　That's　a　hard　word　to　be　saying；　for　I　was　thinking

if　I'd　a　bit　of　comfort；　the　like　of　yourself；　it's　not　far　off

we'd　be　from　the　good　days　went　before；　and　that'd　be　a　wonder

surely。　　But　I'll　never　rest　easy；　thinking　you're　a　gray；

beautiful　woman；　and　myself　a　pitiful　show。



MARY　DOUL。　　I　can't　help　your　looks；　Martin　Doul。　　It　wasn't

myself　made　you　with　your　rat's　eyes；　and　your　big　ears；　and　your

griseldy　chin。



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇rubs　his　chin　ruefully；　then　beams　with　delight。＇

　There's　one　thing　you've　forgot；　if　you're　a　cute　thinking

woman　itself。



MARY　DOUL。　　Your　slouching　feet；　is　it？　　Or　your　hooky　neck；　or

your　two　knees　is　black　with　knocking　one　on　the　other？



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇with　delighted　scorn。＇　　There's　talking　for　a

cute　woman。　　There's　talking；　surely！



MARY　DOUL　　＇puzzled　at　joy　of　his　voice。＇　　If　you'd　anything

but　lies　to　say　you'd　be　talking　to　yourself。



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇bursting　with　excitement。＇　　I've　this　to　say；

Mary　Doul。　　I'll　be　letting　my　beard　grow　in　a　short　while；　a

beautiful；　long；　white；　silken；　streamy　beard；　you　wouldn't　see

the　like　of　in　the　eastern　world。　。　。　。　　Ah；　a　white　beard's　a

grand　thing　on　an　old　man；　a　grand　thing　for　making　the　quality

stop　and　be　stretching　out　their　hands　with　good　silver　or　gold；

and　a　beard's　a　thing　you'll　never　have；　so　you　may　be　holding

your　tongue。



MARY　DOUL　　＇laughing　cheerfully。＇　　Well；　we're　a　great　pair；

surely；　and　it's　great　times　we'll　have　yet；　maybe；　and　great

talking　before　we　die。



MARTIN　DOUL。　　Great　times　from　this　day；　with　the　help　of　the

Almighty　God；　for　a　priest　itself　would　believe　the　lies　of　an

old　man　would　have　a　fine　white　beard　growing　on　his　chin。



MARY　DOUL。　　There's　the　sound　of　one　of　them　twittering　yellow

birds　do　be　coming　in　the　spring…time　from　beyond　the　sea；　and

there'll　be　a　fine　warmth　now　in　the　sun；　and　a　sweetness　in　the

air；　the　way　it'll　be　a　grand　thing　to　be　sitting　here　quiet　and

easy　smelling　the　things　growing　up；　and　budding　from　the　earth。



MARTIN　DOUL。　　I'm　smelling　the　furze　a　while　back　sprouting　on

the　hill；　and　if　you'd　hold　your　tongue　you'd　hear　the　lambs　of

Grianan；　though　it's　near　drowned　their　crying　is　with　the　full

river　making　noises　in　the　glen。



MARY　DOUL　　＇listens。＇　　The　lambs　is　bleating；　surely；　and

there's　cocks　and　laying　hens　making　a　fine　stir　a　mile　off　on

the　face　of　the　hill。　　（She　starts。）



MARTIN　DOUL。　　What's　that　is　sounding　in　the　west？　＇A　faint　sound

of　a　bell　is　heard。＇



MARY　DOUL。　　It's　not　the　churches；　for　the　wind's　blowing　from

the　sea。



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇with　dismay。＇　　It's　the　old　Saint；　I'm

thinking；　ringing　his　bell。



MARY　DOUL。　　The　Lord　protect　us　from　the　saints　of　God！　　（They

listen。）　　He's　coming　this　road；　surely。



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇tentatively。＇　　Will　we　be　running　off；　Mary

Doul？



MARY　DOUL。　　What　place　would　we　run？



MARTIN　DOUL。　　There's　the　little　path　going　up　through　the

sloughs。　。　。　。　　If　we　reached　the　bank　above；　where　the　elders　do

be　growing；　no　person　would　see　a　sight　of　us；　if　it　was　a

hundred　yeomen　were　passing　itself；　but　I'm　afeard　after　the　time

we　were　with　our　sight　we'll　not　find　our　way　to　it　at　all。



MARY　DOUL　　＇standing　up。＇　　You'd　find　the　way；　surely。　

You're　a　grand　man　the　world　knows　at　finding　your　way　winter　or

summer；　if　there　was　deep　snow　in　it　itself；　or　thick　grass　and

leaves；　maybe；　growing　from　the　earth。



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇taking　her　hand。＇　　Come　a　bit　this　way；　it's

here　it　begins。　（They　grope　about　gap。）　　There's　a　tree　pulled

into　the　gap；　or　a　strange　thing　happened；　since　I　was　passing　it

before。



MARY　DOUL。　　Would　we　have　a　right　to　be　crawling　in　below　under

the　sticks？



MARTIN　DOUL。　　It's　hard　set　I　am　to　know　what　would　be　right。　

And　isn't　it　a　poor　thing　to　be　blind　when　you　can't　run　off

itself；　and　you　fearing　to　see？



MARY　DOUL　　＇nearly　in　tears。＇　　It's　a　poor　thing；　God　help

us；　and　what　good'll　our　gray　hairs　be　itself；　if　we　have　our

sight；　the　way　we'll　see　them　falling　each　day；　and　turning　dirty

in　the　rain？



＇The　bell　sounds　nearby。＇



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇in　despair。＇　　He's　coming　now；　and　we　won't　get

off　from　him　at　all。



MARY　DOUL。　　Could　we　hide　in　the　bit　of　a　briar　is　growing　at　the

west　butt　of　the　church？



MARTIN　DOUL。　　We'll　try　that；　surely。　（He　listens　a　moment。）　　Let

you　make　haste；　I　hear　them　trampling　in　the　wood。　＇They　grope

over　to　church。＇



MARY　DOUL。　　It's　the　words　of　the　young　girls　making　a　great　stir

in　the　trees。　（They　find　the　bush。）　　Here's　the　briar　on　my　left；

Martin；　I'll　go　in　first；　I'm　the　big　one；　and　I'm　easy　to　see。



MARTIN　DOUL　　＇turning　his　head　anxiously。＇　　It's　easy　heard

you　are；　and　will　you　be　holding　your　tongue？



MARY　DOUL　　＇partly　behind　bush。＇　　Come　in　now　beside　of　me。　

（They　kneel　down；　still　clearly　visible。）　　Do　you　think　they　can

see　us　now；　Martin　Doul？



MARTIN　DOUL。　　I'm　thinking　they　can't；　but　I'm　hard　set　to　know；

for　the　lot　of　them　young　girls；　the　devil　save　them；　have　sharp；

terrible　eyes；　would　pick　out　a　poor　man；　I'm　thinking；　and　he

lying　below　hid　in　his　grave。



MARY　DOUL。　　Let　you　not　be　whispering　sin；　Martin　Doul；　or　maybe

it's　the　finger　of　God　they'd　see　pointing　to　ourselves。



MARTIN　DOUL。　　It's　yourself　is　speaking　madness；　Mary　Doul；

haven't　you　heard　the　Saint　say　it's　the　wicked　do　be　blind？



MARY　DOUL。　　If　it　is　you'd　have　a　right　to　speak　a　big；　terrible

word　would　make　the　water　not　cure　us　at　all。



MARTIN　DOUL。　　What　way　would　I　find　a　big；　terrible　word；　and　I

shook　with　the　fear；　and　if　I　did　itself；　who'd　know　rightly　if

it's　good　words　or　bad　would　save　us　this　day　from　himself？



MARY　DOUL。　　They're　coming。　　I　hear　their　feet　on　the　stones。



＇The　Saint　comes　in　on　right；　with　Timmy　and　Molly　Byrne　in

holiday　clothes；　the　others　as　before。＇



TIMMY。　　I've　heard　tell　Martin　Doul　and　Mary　Doul　were　seen　this

day　about　on　the　road；　holy　father；　and　we　were　thinking　you'd

have　pity　on　them　and　cure　them　again。



SAINT。　　I　would；　maybe；　but　where　are　they　at　all？　　I　have　little

time　left　when　I　have　the　two　of　you　wed　in　the　church。



MAT　SIMON　　＇at　their　seat。＇　　There　are　the　rushes　they　do

have　lying　round　on　the　stones。　　It's　not　far　off　they'll　be；

surely。



MOLLY　BYRNE　　＇pointing　with　astonishment。＇　　Look　beyond；

Timmy。　＇They　all　look　over　and　see　Martin　Doul。＇



TIMMY。　　Well；　Martin's　a　lazy　fellow　to　be　lying　in　there　at　the

height　of　the　day。　（He　goes　over　shouting。）　　Let　you　get　up　out

of　that。　　You　were　near　losing　a　great　c