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making from hearing a poor woman breathing quiet in her place。
MARTIN DOUL。 And you'll be bearing in mind； I'm thinking； what
you seen a while back when you looked down into a well； or a
clear pool； maybe； when there was no wind stirring and a good
light in the sky。
MARY DOUL。 I'm minding that surely； for if I'm not the way the
liars were saying below I seen a thing in them pools put joy and
blessing in my heart。 ＇She puts her hand to her hair again。＇
MARTIN DOUL ＇laughing ironically。＇ Well； they were saying
below I was losing my senses； but I never went any day the length
of that。 。 。 。 God help you； Mary Doul； if you're not a wonder
for looks； you're the maddest female woman is walking the
counties of the east。
MARY DOUL ＇scornfully。＇ You were saying all times you'd a
great ear for hearing the lies of the world。 A great ear； God
help you； and you think you're using it now。
MARTIN DOUL。 If it's not lies you're telling would you have me
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； a