SCENE—A room with lighted fire, and a door into the open air, through which one sees, perhaps, the trees of a wood, and these trees should be painted in flat colour upon a gold or diapered sky. The walls are of one colour. The scene should have the effect of missal Painting. MARY, a woman of forty years or so, is grinding a quern.
MARY. What can have made the grey hen flutter so?
(TEIG, a boy of fourteen, is coming in with turf, which he lays beside the hearth.)
TEIG. They say that now the land is famine struck The graves are walking.
MARY. There is something that the hen hears.
TEIG. And that is not the worst; at Tubber-vanach A woman met a man with ears spread out, And they moved up and down like a bat's wing.
MARY. What can have kept your father all this while?
TEIG. Two nights ago, at Carrick-orus churchyard, A herdsman met a man who had no mouth, Nor eyes, nor ears; his face a wall of flesh; He saw him plainly by the light of the moon.
MARY. Look out, and tell me if your father's coming.
(TEIG goes to door.)
TEIG. Mother!
MARY. What is it?
TEIG. In the bush beyond, There are two birds—if you can call them birds— I could not see them rightly for the leaves. But they've the shape and colour of horned owls And I'm half certain they've a human face.
MARY. Mother of God, defend us!
TEIG. They're looking at me. What is the good of praying? father says. God and the Mother of God have dropped asleep. What do they care, he says, though the whole land Squeal like a rabbit under a weasel's tooth?
MARY. You'll bring misfortune with your blasphemies Upon your father, or yourself, or me. I would to God he were home—ah, there he is.
(SHEMUS comes in.)
What was it kept you in the wood? You know I cannot get all sorts of accidents Out of my mind till you are home again.
SHEMUS. I'm in no mood to listen to your clatter. Although I tramped the woods for half a day, I've taken nothing, for the very rats, Badgers, and hedgehogs seem to have died of drought, And there was scarce a wind in the parched leaves.
TEIG. Then you have brought no dinner.
SHEMUS. After that I sat among the beggars at the cross-roads, And held a hollow hand among the others.
MARY. What, did you beg?
SHEMUS. I had no chance to beg, For when the beggars saw me they cried out They would not have another share their alms, And hunted me away with sticks and stones.
TEIG. You said that you would bring us food or money.
SHEMUS. What's in the house?
TEIG. A bit of mouldy bread.
MARY. There's flour enough to make another loaf.
TEIG. And when that's gone?
MARY. There is the hen in the coop.
SHEMUS. My curse upon the beggars, my Curse upon them!
TEIG. And the last penny gone.
SHEMUS. When the hen's gone, What can we do but live on sorrel and dock) And dandelion, till our mouths are green?
MARY. God, that to this hour's found bit and sup, Will cater for us still.
SHEMUS. His kitchen's bare. There were five doors that I looked through this day And saw the dead and not a soul to wake them.
MARY. Maybe He'd have us die because He knows, When the ear is stopped and when the eye is stopped, That every wicked sight is hid from the eye, And all fool talk from the ear.
SHEMUS. Who's passing there? And mocking us with music?
(A stringed instrument without.)
TEIG. A young man plays it, There's an old woman and a lady with him.
SHEMUS. What is the trouble of the poor to her? Nothing at all or a harsh radishy sauce For the day's meat.
MARY. God's pity on the rich, Had we been through as many doors, and seen The dishes standing on the polished wood In the wax candle light, we'd be as hard, And there's the needle's eye at the end of all.
SHEMUS. My curse upon the rich.
TEIG. They're coming here.
SHEMUS. Then down upon that stool, down quick, I say, And call up a whey face and a whining voice, And let your head be bowed upon your knees.
MARY. Had I but time to put the place to rights.
(CATHLEEN, OONA, and ALEEL enter.)
CATHLEEN. God save all here. There is a certain house, An old grey castle with a kitchen garden, A cider orchard and a plot for flowers, Somewhere among these woods.
MARY. We know it, lady. A place that's set among impassable walls As though world's trouble could not find it out.
CATHLEEN. It may be that we are that trouble, for we— Although we've wandered in the wood this hour— Have lost it too, yet I should know my way, For I lived all my childhood in that house.
MARY. Then you are Countess Cathleen?
CATHLEEN. And this woman, Oona, my nurse, should have remembered it, For we were happy for a long time there.
OONA. The paths are overgrown with thickets now, Or else some change has come upon my sight.
CATHLEEN. And this young man, that should have known the woods— Because we met him on their border but now, Wandering and singing like a wave of the sea— Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come That he can give no help.
MARY. You have still some way, But I can put you on the trodden path Your servants take when they are marketing. But first sit down and rest yourself awhile, For my old fathers served your fathers, lady, Longer than books can tell—and it were strange If you and yours should not be welcome here.
CATHLEEN. And it were stranger still were I ungrateful For such kind welcome but I must be gone, For the night's gathering in.
SHEMUS. It is a long while Since I've set eyes on bread or on what buys it.
CATHLEEN. So you are starving even in this wood, Where I had thought I would find nothing changed. But that's a dream, for the old worm o' the world Can eat its way into what place it pleases.
(She gives money.)
TEIG. Beautiful lady, give me something too; I fell but now, being weak with hunger and thirst, And lay upon the threshold like a log.
CATHLEEN. I gave for all and that was all I had. Look, my purse is empty. I have passed By starving men and women all this day, And they have had the rest; but take the purse, The silver clasps on't may be worth a trifle. But if you'll come to-morrow to my house You shall have twice the sum.
(ALEEL begins to play.)
SHEMUS (muttering). What, music, music!
CATHLEEN. Ah, do not blame the finger on the string; The doctors bid me fly the unlucky times And find distraction for my thoughts, or else Pine to my grave.
SHEMUS. I have said nothing, lady. Why should the like of us complain?
OONA. Have done. Sorrows that she's but read of in a book Weigh on her mind as if they had been her own.
(OONA, MARY, and CATHLEEN go Out. ALEEL looks defiantly at SHEMUS.)
ALEEL. (Singing) Impetuous heart, be still, be still, Your sorrowful love can never be told, Cover it up with a lonely tune, He that could bend all things to His will Has covered the door of the infinite fold With the pale stars and the wandering moon.
(He takes a step towards the door and then turns again.)
Shut to the door before the night has fallen, For who can say what walks, or in what shape Some devilish creature flies in the air, but now Two grey-horned owls hooted above our heads.
(He goes out, his singing dies away. MARY comes in. SHEmus has been counting the money.)
TEIG. There's no good luck in owls, but it may be That the ill luck's to fall upon their heads.
MARY. You never thanked her ladyship.
SHEMUS. Thank her, For seven halfpence and a silver bit?