Celia: (Sitting up reluctantly.) I wonder will
the rosy ribbon or the pale put the best appearance
on my party dress to-night? (Looks out.) He is
coming down the path from the rath, and he having
his little old book in his hand, that he gives out
fell down before him from the skies.
Mother: So there is a little book, whatever
language he does be wording out of it.
Celia: If you listen you'll hear it now, or hear
his own talk, for he's mouthing and muttering as
he travels the path.
Conan: (Comes in: the book in his hand open,
he is not looking at it.) "Life is the flame of the
heart ...that heat is of the nature of the stars." ...It
is Aristotle had knowledge to turn that
flame here and there.... What way now did he
do that?
Mother: Ah, I'm well pleased to see you coming
in, Conan. I was getting uneasy thinking you
were gone astray on us.
Conan: (Dropping his book and picking it up
again.) I never knew the like of you, Maryanne,
under the canopy of heaven. To be questioning
me with your talk, and I striving to keep my mind
upon all the wisdom of the ancient world. (Sits
down beside fire.)
Mother: So you would be too. It is well able
you are to do that.
Conan: (To Celia.) Have you e'er a meal to
leave down to me?
Celia: It will be ready within three minutes of
time.
Conan: Wasting the morning on me! What
good are you if you cannot so much as boil the
breakfast? Hurry on now.