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.