Читать книгу Three Plays: The Fiddler's House, The Land, Thomas Muskerry - Padraic Colum - Страница 6

James Moynihan has finished tea; Anne Hourican is at the back, seated on the settle knitting, and watching James. James Moynihan is about twenty-eight. He has a good forehead, but his face is indeterminate. He has been working in the fields, and is dressed in trousers, shirt, and heavy boots. Anne Hourican is a pretty, dark-haired girl of about nineteen.

James Moynihan rises.

ANNE

And so you can't stay any longer, James?

JAMES (with a certain solemnity) No, Anne. I told my father I'd be back while there was light, and I'm going back. (He goes to the rack, takes his coat, and puts it on him) Come over to our house to-night, Anne. I'll be watching the girls coming in, and thinking on yourself; there's none of them your match for grace and favour. My father wanted me to see a girl in Arvach. She has three hundred pounds, besides what the priest, her uncle, will leave her. "Father," says I, "listen to me now. Haven't I always worked for you like a steady, useful boy?" "You have," says he. "Did I ever ask you for anything unreasonable?" says I. "No," says he. "Well then," says I, "don't ask me to do unreasonable things. I'm fond of Anne Hourican, and not another girl will I marry. What's money, after all?" says I, "there's gold on the whin-bushes if you only knew it." And he had to leave it at that.

ANNE

You always bring people around.

JAMES

The quiet, reasonable way is the way that people like.

ANNE

Still, with all, I'm shy of going into your house.

JAMES Don't doubt but there'll be a welcome before you; come round with Maire.

Anne rises, and comes to him. She has graceful, bird-like movements.

ANNE (putting her hands on James' shoulders) Maybe we won't have a chance of seeing each other after all.

James Moynihan kisses her reverently

JAMES Sit down now, Anne, because there's something I want to show you. Do you ever see "The Shamrock"?

ANNE

Very seldom.

James and Anne go to the settle; they sit down.

JAMES There be good pieces in it sometimes. There's a poem of mine in it this week.

ANNE

Of yours, James? Printed, do you mean?

JAMES

Ay, printed. (He takes a paper out of his pocket, and opens it) It's a poem to yourself, though your name doesn't come into it. (Gives paper) Let no one see it, Anne, at least not for the present. And now, good-bye.

Goes to the door. Anne continues reading the verse eagerly. At the door James turns and recites:—

When lights are failing, and skies are paling,

And leaves are sailing a-down the air,

O, it's then that love lifts my heart above

My roving thoughts and my petty care;

And though the gloom be like the tomb,

Where there's no room for my love and me,

O, still I'll find you, and still I'll bind you,

My wild sweet rose of Aughnalee!

That's the first stanza. Good-bye.

James goes out. Anne continues reading, then she leaves the paper down with a sigh.

ANNE O, it's lovely! (She takes the paper up again, rises and goes to the door. She remains looking out. Some one speaks to her) No, Brian, Maire's not back yet. Ay, I'll engage she'll give you a call when she does come back. (Anne turns back. She opens drawer in the dresser and puts paper in. She begins to clear table, putting the delpht back on dresser. To herself, anxiously) I hope Maire won't forget to call at the mill. (Room door right opens, and Conn Hourican comes down. Conn Hourican is a man of about fifty, with clear-cut, powerful features, his face is clean-shaven, his expression vehement. His dress is old-fashioned. He wears knee-breeches, a frieze coat rather long, a linen shirt with a little linen collar and a black string for bow. He carries a slick and moves about restlessly)

ANNE

Had Maire any talk of going to the mill, father?

CONN

I heard nothing of it.

ANNE I hope she'll mind of it. We must get the meal there, and not be going to the shop so often.

CONN

I suppose we must.

He moves about restlessly.

ANNE

And I was just thinking that one of us ought to go to Arvach on

Tuesday, and get the things there.

CONN

The mean, odious creatures!

Anne is startled. She turns from dresser.

ANNE

What are you thinking of, father?

CONN That den of robbers. Well, well, I'm finished with them now; but I'm a proud man, and a passionate man, and I'll be even with them yet.

ANNE

There's no comfort in going into rough places.

CONN

You know nothing at all about it. Were the men in yet?

ANNE

James Moynihan was here, because he had to go away early; but

Brian MacConnell is outside still. Father, you were home late two

nights this week.

CONN And is a man to have no life to himself? But sure you know nothing at all about it. I'm going out now to give Brian MacConnell a hand.

ANNE

It's hardly worth while going out now.

CONN There's still light enough to do a bit of mowing, and you ought to know that it isn't right to neglect the boy that's come to do a day's work with you. (Going to the door) Many's the day I put in with the scythe in Ireland, and in England too; I did more than stroll with the fiddle, and I saw more places than where fiddling brought me. (Brian MacConnell comes to the door) I was just going out to you, Brian. I was telling the girl here that it's not right to neglect the boy that's giving you a day's work out of his own goodness.

BRIAN

I'm only coming in for a light.

CONN

As you're here now, rest yourself.

Brian MacConnell comes in, and goes over to the hearth. He is dark and good-looking, and has something reckless in his look. He wears corduroy trousers, and a shirt loose at the neck. Anne comes to Brian. Conn stands at entrance, his back turned.

BRIAN (lighting his pipe with a coal) When do you expect Maire back?

ANNE

She'll be here soon. Shell give you a call if you're outside,

BRIAN

How is it you couldn't keep James Moynihan?

ANNE

It's because you didn't say the good word for me, I must think.

Be sure you praise me the next time you're working together.

BRIAN

Will you do as much for me?

ANNE Indeed, I will, Brian. Myself and another are making a devotion to Saint Anthony.

BRIAN

And what would that be for?

ANNE

That the Saint might send us good comrades.

BRIAN

I thought it was Saint Joseph did that for the girls.

ANNE Sure we couldn't be asking the like from him. We couldn't talk to Saint Joseph that way. We want a nice young saint to be looking at.

Conn turns from the door.

CONN (bitterly) It'll be a poor season, Brian MacConnell.

BRIAN

The season's not so bad, after all.

CONN God help them that are depending on the land and the weather for the bit they put into their heads. It's no wonder that the people here are the sort they are, harassed, anxious people.

ANNE The people here mind their own business, and they're a friendly people besides.

CONN People that would leave the best fiddler at the fair to go and look at a bullock.

ANNE (to Brian) He's not satisfied to have this shelter, Brian.

CONN (to Brian) I'm saying, Brian, that her mother had this shelter, and she left it to go the roads with myself.

ANNE That God may rest my mother. It's a pity she never lived to come back to the place. But we ought to be praising grandmother night and day, for leaving this place to Maire.

CONN

Your grandmother did that as she did everything else.

ANNE (to Brian) Now, Brian, what would you do with a man that would say the like?

Anne goes outside.

CONN (to Brian) It's small blame to the girl here for thinking something of the place; but I saw the time, Brian MacConnell, when I could make more playing at one fair than working a whole season in this bit of a place.

BRIAN

Girls like the shelter, Conn.

CONN Ay, but the road for the fiddler. I'm five years settled here, and I come to be as well known as the begging ass, and there is as much thought about me. Fiddling, let me tell you, isn't like a boy's whistling. It can't be kept up on nothing.

BRIAN

I understand that, Conn.

CONN I'm getting that I can't stand the talk you hear in houses, wars and Parliaments, and the devil knows what ramais.

BRIAN

There's still a welcome for the man of art, somewhere.

CONN

That somewhere's getting further and further away, Brian.

BRIAN

You were not in the town last night?

CONN

I was not, Brian. God help me, I spent the night my lone.

BRIAN

There's Sligomen in the town.

CONN Is there, now? It would be like our times to play for them. (Anne comes in with some peat) Anne, would you bring me down my spectacles? They're in the room, daughter. (Anne goes to room. Conn turns to Brian eagerly) I suppose the Sligomen will be in Flynn's.

BRIAN

They were there last night.

CONN Listen, Brian, I've a reason for not going to Flynn's. Would you believe it, Brian, Flynn spoke to me about the few shillings I owe him?

BRIAN That was shabby of him. He got a lot out of you in the way of playing.

CONN It's just like them. Besides, Maire keeps us tight enough, and I often have to take treats from the men. They're drovers and rambling labourers and the like, though, as you say, they've the song and music, and the proper talk. Listen, Brian, could you leave a few shillings on the dresser for me?

BRIAN

To be sure I will, Conn.

Brian goes to the dresser, and puts money on a shelf.

CONN (with dignity) Thank you, Brian. There's few I'd let put me under a compliment; but I take it from you. Maire, as I said, is a careful girl, but some of us must have our freedom. Besides, Brian, the bird that sings lone sings slow. The man of art must have his listeners. (Conn takes the money off dresser) Anne, daughter, what's keeping you there? Sure the spectacles were in my pocket the whole time, child. (Anne comes dawn) When I spoke against the people about here, I was leaving you out of it, Brian.

BRIAN

I'm fond of tune, though it wasn't here I got fond of it.

Brian goes to the door.

ANNE (going to Brian) You won't be rambling again, Brian?

BRIAN

I'm settled here, Anne; I made it up with my brothers.

ANNE

They used to say that a MacConnell quarrel was a lasting quarrel.

BRIAN

Maybe we're working the bad blood out of us.

ANNE

Don't be staying out long, Brian.

BRIAN

Till Maire gives me the call.

Brian MacConnell goes out.

ANNE We oughtn't to take another clay from Brian MacConnell. There's only the patch at the back to be mown, and you could do that yourself.

CONN You can depend on me for the mowing. I'm going up now, to go over an oul' tune I have.

ANNE

James Moynihan would come over and stack for us.

CONN

James Moynihan is a decent boy, too.

ANNE

You won't be going out to-night, father?

CONN

Now, how's a man to know what he'll be doing?

ANNE

It leaves me very anxious.

CONN I'll give you this advice, and it's proper advice to give to a girl thinking of marrying. Never ask of your menkind where they're going.

ANNE

The like of that brings bad luck on a house.

CONN You have too much dead knowledge, and the shut fist never caught a bird.

ANNE

I only wish you were settled down.

CONN

Sure I am settled down.

ANNE

I can't speak to you, after all.

CONN You're a good girl, Anne, and he'll be lucky that gets you. And don't be grieving that you're not bringing James Moynihan a fortune. You're bringing him the decency of birth and rearing. You're like the lone pigeon I often think—the pet that doesn't fly, and keeps near the house.

ANNE

That's the way you always treat me, and I never can talk to you.

CONN (at window) Hush now, here's the other, your sister Maire. She's like the wild pigeon of the woods. (Maire Hourican comes in) We were discoursing on affairs, Maire. We won't be bringing Brian MacConnell here tomorrow; there's only the bit at the back to be mown, and I'll do that myself.

Conn Hourican goes into the room right; soon after the fiddle is heard. Anne goes to the settle, and takes up her knitting. Maire takes her shawl off, and hangs it on the rack. Maire Hourican is over twenty. She is tall, and has easy, graceful movements; her features are fine and clear-cut; the nose is rather blunted, the mouth firm. Her gaze is direct and clear. She has heavy auburn hair, loose now, and falling. Maire comes down to the table, opens basket, and takes some flowers from top. She turns to dresser and arranges some of the flowers in a jar.

MAIRE We'd have no right to take another day from Brian. And when there's no one here to-morrow, you and me could draw some of the turf.

ANNE

Your hair is loose, Maire.

Maire goes to the mirror and fixes her hair.

MAIRE The wind blew it about me, and then I let it down. I came home by the long way, just to feel young again with my hair about me.

ANNE

And did you meet any one?

MAIRE

Indeed I did. I met James Moynihan.

ANNE

James had to go early. They're building at his place.

MAIRE

Indeed they ought to let James build a house for himself. ANNE

Some day they will, Maire.

MAIRE But we must not let some day be a far day.

ANNE (hesitatingly) I think I'll show you something.

MAIRE What is it, daughter?

Anne rises and goes to the dresser. She opens drawer. Maire watches her.

MAIRE (waiting) I made a good girl out of you, anyway.

ANNE

You wouldn't let me use stroller words when we were on the road.

Do you mind of that?

MAIRE

I kept you to the mannerly ways. I have that to my credit.

ANNE (showing Maire the verses) Read that, Maire. It was James that made it.

MAIRE

It's a song, I declare.

ANNE

No, Maire, it's a poem.

MAIRE

A poem? O, that's grand!

She begins to read it eagerly.

ANNE

And, Maire—

MAIRE

Well?

ANNE

James says it's about me.

MAIRE

About you? O, I wish some one would put me into a song, or into a poem;

I suppose a poem would be best. You might ask James. No, I'll coax him

myself. Ah, no I won't, Anne.

ANNE

You may keep it for a while, but don't let any one know.

MAIRE

He must be very fond of you, and I thinking him so quiet.

ANNE (happy) He has grand thoughts about me.

MAIRE

Well, you'll be seeing him to-night.

ANNE

I don't know that I'll go out to-night.

MAIRE

Sure Grace Moynihan asked us to go over.

ANNE

I'm shy of going into James'.

MAIRE Anne, you're the only one of us that has any manners. Maybe you're right not to go.

ANNE

I'll stay in to-night.

MAIRE

Then Brian and myself will go to Moynihan's.

ANNE

You'd get an indulgence, Maire, if you missed a dance.

MAIRE Would it be so hard to get an indulgence? (She takes flowers from dresser and puts them in window) The house looks nice this evening. We'll keep Brian here for a while, and then we'll go to Moynihan's.

ANNE

Father will be going out to-night.

MAIRE (turning suddenly from window) Will he?

ANNE He will. I think I ought to stay in. Maire, father was in only a while before you the night before last and another night.

MAIRE O, and I thinking things were going so well with us. He's drinking again.

ANNE

He's going to Flynn's again.

MAIRE

Disgracing us again.

ANNE

I'll stay in to-night.

MAIRE

I'm tired of this.

ANNE

Don't say it that way, Maire.

MAIRE

What will people say of us two now?

ANNE

I'll talk to him to-night.

MAIRE No, you're going out—you're going to Moynihan's—you're going to see your sweetheart.

ANNE

I think you're becoming a stranger to us, Maire.

MAIRE You're going to Moynihan's to-night, and I'm going, too. But I'm going to settle this first. Once and for all I'm going to settle this.

The fiddle has ceased. As Maire goes towards the room, Conn Hourican comes down, the fiddle in his hand.

CONN Were you listening to the tune I was playing? Ah, that was a real oul tune, if there was anyone that knew it. Maire, my jewel, were you listening?

MAIRE

I heard you.

CONN It was a real oul' tune, and while I was playing it a great scheme came into my head. Now, listen to me, Maire; and you listen, too, Anne. Both of you would like to see your father having what's his due after all, honour and respect.

MAIRE

Both of us would like to see our father earn the same.

CONN

I could earn the same, ay, and gold and silver cups besides, if

I had the mind to earn them.

He puts fiddle on table and prepares to speak impressively.

CONN Let ye listen to me now; I've a scheme to put before ye. When I was going over the oul tune, I remembered that I'd heard of a Feis [2] that's coming on soon, the Feis of Ardagh. I'm thinking of going there. There will be great prizes for some one; I don't doubt but I'd do at Ardagh better than I did at the Feis of Granard, where people as high as bishops were proud and glad to know Conn Hourican the Fiddler.

[Footnote 2: Feis, pronounced Fesh, a musical or literary gathering, with competitions.]

ANNE

Father, you've a place to mind.

CONN I'm tired of that kind of talk; sure I'm always thinking of the place. Maire hasn't little notions. What do you say to it, Maire, my girl?

MAIRE What do I say? I say you're not a rambler now, though indeed you behave like one.

CONN

You have something against me, Maire.

MAIRE

I have.

CONN

What has she against me, Anne?

MAIRE

All the promises you broke.

CONN

You were listening to what the town is saying.

MAIRE What does the town know? Does it know that you stripped us of stock and crop the year after we came here? Does it know that Anne and myself, two girls of the roads, had to struggle ever since to keep a shelter?

CONN (bitterly) It knows that. It couldn't help but know it, maybe. But does it know all the promises you made and broke?

CONN (angrily) Hush now; I'll hear no more. I went my own way always, and I'll go my own way always.

He goes to the entrance, and remains with his back turned. Maire goes to Anne.

MAIRE (raising her voice) Ay, he'll go his own way always. What was the good of working and saving here?

ANNE

Be quiet with him.

MAIRE He'll go his own way always, and it's foolish of us to be fretting for him night and day.

Maire sits on stool and puts her hands across her face.

CONN (turning his head) Fretting for me. It was too easy that I reared you.

ANNE God help Maire! She kept the house together at the worst, and she is always fretting for us.

CONN

I'm oul' enough to mind myself. Let her remember that.

ANNE

It's you that ought to remember that.

CONN (going to Maire) Did I ever give the harsh word to you, child?

No answer.

CONN There, there; I never could see tears in a woman's eyes; there, there, colleen. I'm an oul' man; I won't be a trouble to you long.

MAIRE (rising) Why need you play in Flynn's? You're as good as any that goes there.

CONN I know that. I'm disgusted with Flynn. May hell loosen his knees for him! I'll go in and throw his money on the counter.

MAIRE Some one else can do that. Promise me you won't go near the place.

CONN

You'll have me promise. I promise.

MAIRE Take this in your hand and promise. It's a medal that belonged to mother.

She takes a medal from her neck

CONN (taking the medal) I'm disgusted with Flynn. I promise you, Maire.

MAIRE

Now you've honour and respect.

CONN

And what about Ardagh, Maire?

MAIRE

Sure, you're not the rambling fiddler any more.

CONN That would be the good rambling. I see the trees making shadows across the roads.

MAIRE

We'll talk about it again.

ANNE

Brian MacConnell will be coming in now. CONN I'm going out to

Brian MacConnell.

He goes to the door.

ANNE

Tell Brian to come in now.

Conn Hourican goes out. There is a pause. Maire hums a tune as she goes to the mirror.

MAIRE

Am I looking well to-day?

ANNE (rather distantly) You're looking your best, I think. (Seriously) Maire, I didn't like the way you talked to father.

MAIRE (petulantly) What have you against it?

ANNE

You're becoming a stranger to us, Maire.

MAIRE (as an apology) I'm out often, I know, but I think as much as ever of the house, and about you and father. You know we couldn't let him go to the Feis at Ardagh. We couldn't let him go off like a rambling fiddler.

ANNE

We couldn't let him go off by himself.

MAIRE

You're going to Moynihan's.

ANNE

Maybe I'll go.

MAIRE

Anne, honey, do something for me.

ANNE

What will I do?

MAIRE

You'll meet father coming up with Brian, and take him away.

ANNE

And will you tell me everything to-night?

MAIRE Who else would I talk to but yourself, Nancy? (Anne goes out) I wish Anne hadn't spoken to me like that. I feel the like of that. (Desperately) Well, I'll pray for nothing now but to look my best. (She goes to the fire. Brian MacConnell comes in) You're welcome, Brian.

BRIAN

We didn't finish to-day. I'll come in to-morrow and finish.

MAIRE

O no, Brian, we won't take another day from you.

BRIAN Well, what's a day after all? Many's the day and night I put in thinking on you.

MAIRE

But did you do what I asked you to do?

BRIAN I did. I made it up with my brothers. It was never my way before. What I wanted I took with the strong hand; or if I mightn't put the strong hand on it, I left it alone.

MAIRE (eagerly) Tell me what your brother said to you.

BRIAN When I came up to the door, Hugh came out to meet me. "What destruction are you bringing me?" he said. "There's my hand," says I, "and I take your offer." MAIRE Ah, that's settled. You could settle anything, Brian. (She goes to the settle and sits down) I wonder could you settle something for us?

BRIAN

What is it, Maire?

MAIRE It's my father. He wants to be rambling again. He wants to be going to some Feis.

BRIAN

Sure, let him go.

He takes her hand.

MAIRE I couldn't, Brian. Couldn't you help us? Couldn't you keep father's mind on the right things?

BRIAN

Sure, let the fiddler go on the roads.

MAIRE You might stay here this evening with ourselves. Father would be glad to talk with you.

BRIAN (putting his arm around her) But I want the two of us to be seen in Moynihan's to-night.

MAIRE (resistance in her voice) Stay here with us, and let all that go by.

BRIAN Hugh will be there with that woman that brought him the big fortune; and I want you to take the shine out of her.

MAIRE (rising) I was out often lately. You know that, Brian.

She goes to chair at table, and sits away from him.

BRIAN (rising and going to her) But this night above all you must be with me.

MAIRE (turning to him impulsively) Stay here and I'll be as nice to you as if we were in another house. (He kisses her. She rises and goes from him) If you knew me at all, Brian MacConnell, that's not the way you'd treat me.

BRIAN

Are you not coming out with me?

MAIRE

You must leave me to myself now. (Conn Hourican comes in) Is Anne with you, father?

CONN She's gathering posies or something like that. Brian, did you hear about the Feis at Ardagh?

MAIRE (with vehemence) Oh, what's the good of talking about that? You can't go.

CONN

Can't go, did you say, girl?

MAIRE

Oh, how could you go?

CONN Is that the way? Well, God help us. Give me that fiddle till I leave it up.

He takes the fiddle off dresser, and turns to go.

MAIRE

Father, let me be with you to-night; oh, I'm sorry if I vexed

you. (No reply) Well, stay with Brian MacConnell; I'm going out to Anne.

Maire goes out. Brian goes to rack, and puts on his coat.

BRIAN

Are you coming, Conn? I'm off.

CONN

Where to, man?

BRIAN

To Flynn's.

CONN

I can't be going, I'm sorry to say.

BRIAN I'm going anyway. It's a great thing to be in the company of men.

CONN

Ay, in troth. Women, Brian, leave the heart of one very lonesome.

BRIAN (masterfully) Why can't you come out? I thought you were going to-night.

CONN I can't, Brian, and that reminds me. Give these few shillings to Flynn for me. I'll owe them to you still.

BRIAN

I'm not going to be bothered by the like. Why can't you come?

CONN

I promised Maire.

Brian strides away. He turns, comes back deliberately, and sits on table beside Conn.

BRIAN

They'll be all looking out for you at Flynn's.

CONN

Well, the next time they see me they may respect me.

BRIAN Some of the boys will take it very unkindly. CONN They're decent enough fellows, some of them.

BRIAN And above all nights they'll be watching out for you this night, on account of the Sligomen.

CONN They're decent enough fellows, as I said, and I'll be sorry to disappoint them.

BRIAN

The Sligomen will have great stories about Shawn Heffernan.

CONN

Shawn Heffernan! Is that impostor still alive?

BRIAN He is, and for fiddling these Sligomen think there's not the like of him in the whole of Ireland.

CONN God help them if that's all they know. We played against each other at the Granard Feis. He got the prize, but everybody knew that it was me played the best.

BRIAN

There's few of them alive now that mind of the Granard Feis.

He got the prize, and there's no talk of you at all.

CONN

No talk of me at all?

BRIAN

It's said that since you settled down you lost your art.

CONN And what had the men at Flynn's to say about that? BRIAN They bragged about you for a while, but the Sligomen put them down.

CONN I wonder would we have time to go up, play a few tunes, and come back, while Maire would be doing something? It would be a pity not to give them fellows a lesson and close their ignorant mouths for them. I wonder would we have time? (Anne comes in with Maire) I thought you went somewhere and left Brian and myself here.

ANNE

We're going somewhere and Brian might come with us.

MAIRE

Every one is going to Moynihan's.

CONN It's a pleasant house, a pleasant house. Brian will make his ceilidh [3] with me. We might go over a few tunes.

ANNE

Let Brian come where there are girls that might miss him.

MAIRE Anne, you're a great one for keeping up the story that girls are always thinking about men.

ANNE

And so they are. Just as men are always thinking about girls.

MAIRE You'd make a good ribbonman.[4] You'd put a face on anything you said.

[Footnote 3: Celidh, pronounced cayley, a visit.]

[Footnote 4: A ribbonman—a member of a secret agrarian society.]

ANNE

Ribbonism and secret societies were denounced off the altar.

MAIRE Goodness! The men will begin to think they've secrets worth telling.

ANNE

Have you secrets worth telling, Brian?

MAIRE

I daresay he has. There are foolish women in the world.

ANNE

Are you coming to Moynihan's, Brian?

BRIAN

No. I'm going where there's men.

MAIRE Come, Anne, till I deck you out. Come here, daughter, don't wear flowers. I think they're unlucky. Here I am talking like this, and I going to a dance. I suppose I'll dance with seven or eight and forget what's on my mind. … Everyone is going to Moynihan's except the men here. Are you going out, father?

CONN

I'm making a ceilidh with Brian.

MAIRE

Well, God be with you both. Come on, Anne.

Maire takes down her shawl, and puts it over her head. She stands at the door, watching Anne, who goes to Brian.

ANNE

Brian, what have you against Moynihan's?

BRIAN Nothing at all. I may go in. MAIRE Come on, Anne. God be with you both.

Maire and Anne go out. They are heard talking for a while. Conn goes to the door.

CONN

Maire and Anne are turning the bohereen. [5] Come on now.

He takes his fiddle and begins to wrap it up eagerly.

BRIAN

Ay, let's go.

CONN (at door) I never forget, I never forget. The Granard Feis is as fresh in my mind as the day I played at it. Shawn Heffernan, indeed! I never forget. I never forget.

Conn Hourican and Brian MacConnell go out.

[Footnote 5: Bohereen—the little path going from the cottage to the main road.]