pushes Martin Doul over and stands him beside Mary Doul.) Stand there now, quiet, and let you not be saying a word.

She and Bride stand a little on their left, demurely, with bell, etc., in their hands.

Martin Doul (nervously arranging his clothes). Will he mind the way we are, and not tidied or washed cleanly at all?

Molly Byrne. He’ll not see what way you are…. He’d walk by the finest woman in Ireland, I’m thinking, and not trouble to raise his two eyes to look upon her face.… Whisht!

The Saint comes left, with crowd.

Saint. Are these the two poor people?

Timmy (officiously). They are, holy father; they do be always sitting here at the crossing of the roads, asking a bit of copper from them that do pass, or stripping rushes for lights, and they not mournful at all, but talking out straight with a full voice, and making game with them that likes it

Saint (to Martin Doul and Mary Doul). It’s a hard life you’ve had not seeing sun or moon, or the holy priests itself praying to the Lord, but it’s the like of you who are brave in a bad time will make a fine use of the gift of sight the Almighty God will bring to you to-day. (He takes his cloak and puts it about him.) It’s on a bare starving rock that there’s the grave of the four beauties of God, the way it’s little wonder, I’m thinking, if it’s with bare starving people the water should be used. (He takes the water and bell and slings them round his shoulders.) So it’s to the like of yourselves I do be going, who are wrinkled and poor, a thing rich men would hardly look at at all, but would throw a coin to or a crust of bread.

Martin Doul (moving uneasily). When they look on herself, who is a fine woman—

Timmy (shaking him). Whisht now, and be listening to the Saint.

Saint (looks at them a moment, continues). If it’s raggy and dirty you are itself, I’m saying, the Almighty God isn’t at all like the rich men of Ireland; and, with the power of the water I’m after bringing in a little curagh into Cashla Bay, He’ll have pity on you, and put sight into your eyes.

Martin Doul (taking off his hat). I’m ready now, holy father——

Saint (taking him by the hand). I’ll cure you first, and then I’ll come for your wife. We’ll go up now into the church, for I must say a prayer to the Lord. (To Mary Doul, as he moves off.) And let you be making your mind still and saying praises in your heart, for it’s a great wonderful thing when the power of the Lord of the world is brought down upon your like.

People (pressing after him). Come now till we watch.

Bride. Come, Timmy.

Saint (waving them back). Stay back where you are, for I’m not wanting a big crowd making whispers in the church. Stay back there, I’m saying, and you’d do well to be thinking on the way sin has brought blindness to the world, and to be saying a prayer for your own sakes against false prophets and heathens, and the words of women and smiths, and all knowledge that would soil the soul or the body of a man.

People shrink back. He goes into church. Mary Doul gropes half-way towards the door and kneels near path. People form a group at right.

Timmy. Isn’t it a fine, beautiful voice he has, and he a fine, brave man if it wasn’t for the fasting?


  By PanEris using Melati.

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