The Well of the Saints | Page 9

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
God. . . .
SAINT -- [solemnly.] Laus Patri sit et Filio cum Spiritu Paraclito Qui

Suae dono gratiae misertus est Hiberniae. . . .
MARTIN DOUL -- [ecstatically.] -- Oh, glory be to God, 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 God and the seven saints I didn't die and not
see you at all. The blessing of God on the water, and the feet carried it
round through the land. The blessing of God 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 -- [passionately.] -- 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