you, and let you walk on now to Killamuck.
WIDOW QUIN -- [turning to Christy, as she goes out with the girls.] -- Well,
you're
mighty huffy this day, Pegeen Mike, and, you young fellow, let you not
forget the sports and racing when the noon is by. [They go out.]
PEGEEN -- [imperiously.] Fling out that
rubbish and put them cups away.
(Christy tidies away in great haste). Shove in the bench by the wall. (He
does so.) And hang that glass on the nail. What disturbed it at all?
CHRISTY -- [very meekly.] -- I was making myself
decent only, and this a fine
country for young lovely girls.
PEGEEN -- [sharply.] Whisht your talking of girls. [Goes to
counter right.]
CHRISTY. Wouldn't any wish to be
decent in a place . . .
PEGEEN. Whisht I'm
saying.
CHRISTY -- [looks at her face for a moment with great misgivings, then as a
last effort, takes up a loy, and goes towards her, with feigned assurance). --
It was with a loy the like of that I killed my father.
PEGEEN -- [still sharply.] -- You've told me that story six times since the
dawn of day.
CHRISTY -- [reproachfully.] It's a queer thing you wouldn't care to be
hearing it and them girls after walking four miles to be listening to me now.
PEGEEN -- [turning round astonished.] -- Four miles.
CHRISTY -- [apologetically.] Didn't himself say there were only four bona
fides living in the place?
PEGEEN. It's bona fides by the road they are, but that lot came over the
river lepping the stones. It's not three perches when you go like that, and I
was down this morning looking on the papers the post-boy does have in his bag.
(With meaning and emphasis.) For there was great news this day, Christopher
Mahon. [She goes into room left.]
CHRISTY -- [suspiciously.] Is it news of my murder?
PEGEEN -- [inside.] Murder, indeed.
CHRISTY -- [loudly.] A murdered da?
PEGEEN [coming in again and crossing right.] -- There was not, but a story
filled half a page of the
hanging of a man. Ah, that should be a
fearful end,
young fellow, and it worst of all for a man who destroyed his da, for the like
of him would get small mercies, and when it's dead he is, they'd put him in a
narrow grave, with cheap sacking
wrapping him round, and pour down quicklime
on his head, the way you'd see a woman pouring any frish-frash from a cup.
CHRISTY -- [very miserably.] -- Oh, God help me. Are you thinking I'm safe?
You were
saying at the fall of night, I was shut of jeopardy and I here with
yourselves.
PEGEEN -- [severely.] You'll be shut of jeopardy no place if you go talking
with a pack of wild girls the like of them do be walking
abroad with the
peelers, talking whispers at the fall of night.
CHRISTY -- [with terror.] -- And you're thinking they'd tell?
PEGEEN -- [with mock sympathy.] -- Who knows, God help you.
CHRISTY -- [loudly.] What joy would they have to bring
hanging to the likes
of me?
PEGEEN. It's queer joys they have, and who knows the thing they'd do, if it'd
make the green stones cry itself to think of you swaying and swiggling at the
butt of a rope, and you with a fine, stout neck, God bless you! the way you'd
be a half an hour, in great
anguish, getting your death.
CHRISTY -- [getting his boots and putting them on.] -- If there's that terror
of them, it'd be best, maybe, I went on wandering like Esau or Cain and Abel
on the sides of Neifin or the Erris plain.
PEGEEN [beginning to play with him.] -- It would, maybe, for I've heard the
Circuit Judges this place is a heartless crew.
CHRISTY -- [bitterly.] It's more than Judges this place is a heartless crew.
(Looking up at her.) And isn't it a poor thing to be starting again and I a
lonesome fellow will be looking out on women and girls the way the needy
fallen spirits do be looking on the Lord?
PEGEEN. What call have you to be that
lonesome when there's poor girls
walking Mayo in their thousands now?
CHRISTY -- [grimly.] It's well you know what call I have. It's well you know
it's a
lonesome thing to be passing small towns with the lights shining
sideways when the night is down, or going in strange places with a dog nosing
before you and a dog nosing behind, or drawn to the cities where you'd hear a
voice kissing and talking deep love in every shadow of the ditch, and you
passing on with an empty, hungry
stomach failing from your heart.
PEGEEN. I'm thinking you're an odd man, Christy Mahon. The oddest walking
fellow I ever set my eyes on to this hour to-day.
CHRISTY. What would any be but odd men and they living
lonesome in the world?
PEGEEN. I'm not odd, and I'm my whole life with my father only.
CHRISTY -- [with
infinite admiration.] -- How would a lovely handsome woman
the like of you be
lonesome when all men should be thronging around to hear
the
sweetness of your voice, and the little
infant children should be
pestering your steps I'm thinking, and you walking the roads.
PEGEEN. I'm hard set to know what way a coaxing fellow the like of yourself
should be
lonesome either.
CHRISTY. Coaxing?
PEGEEN. Would you have me think a man never talked with the girls would have
the words you've
spoken to-day? It's only letting on you are to be
lonesome,
the way you'd get around me now.
CHRISTY. I wish to God I was letting on; but I was
lonesome all times, and
born
lonesome, I'm thinking, as the moon of dawn. [Going to door.]
PEGEEN -- [puzzled by his talk.] -- Well, it's a story I'm not understanding
at all why you'd be worse than another, Christy Mahon, and you a fine lad with
the great savagery to destroy your da.
CHRISTY. It's little I'm understanding myself, saving only that my heart's
scalded this day, and I going off stretching out the earth between us, the way
I'll not be waking near you another dawn of the year till the two of us do
arise to hope or judgment with the saints of God, and now I'd best be going
with my wattle in my hand, for
hanging is a poor thing (turning to go), and
it's little
welcome only is left me in this house to-day.
PEGEEN -- [sharply.] Christy! (He turns round.) Come here to me. (He goes
towards her.) Lay down that
switch and throw some sods on the fire. You're
pot-boy in this place, and I'll not have you mitch off from us now.
CHRISTY. You were
saying I'd be hanged if I stay.
PEGEEN -- [quite kindly at last.] -- I'm after going down and
reading the
fearful crimes of Ireland for two weeks or three, and there wasn't a word of
your murder. (Getting up and going over to the
counter.) They've likely not
found the body. You're safe so with ourselves.
CHRISTY -- [astonished, slowly.] -- It's making game of me you were (following
her with
fearful joy), and I can stay so,
working at your side, and I not
lonesome from this
mortal day.
PEGEEN. What's to
hinder you from staying, except the widow woman or the
young girls would inveigle you off?
CHRISTY -- [with rapture.] -- And I'll have your words from this day filling
my ears, and that look is come upon you meeting my two eyes, and I watching
you loafing around in the warm sun, or rinsing your ankles when the night is
come.
PEGEEN -- [kindly, but a little embarrassed.] I'm thinking you'll be a loyal
young lad to have
working around, and if you vexed me a while since with your
leaguing with the girls, I wouldn't give a thraneen for a lad hadn't a
mightyspirit in him and a gamey heart. [Shawn Keogh runs in carrying a cleeve on his
back, followed by the WidowQuin.]
SHAWN -- [to Pegeen.] -- I was passing below, and I seen your mountainy sheep
eating cabbages in Jimmy's field. Run up or they'll be bursting surely.
PEGEEN. Oh, God mend them! [She puts a shawl over her head and runs out.]
CHRISTY -- [looking from one to the other. Still in high spirits.] -- I'd
best go to her aid maybe. I'm handy with ewes.
WIDOW QUIN -- [closing the door.] -- She can do that much, and there is
Shaneen has long speeches for to tell you now. [She sits down with an amused
smile.]
SHAWN -- [taking something from his pocket and
offering it to Christy.] -- Do
you see that,
mister?
CHRISTY -- [looking at it.] -- The half of a ticket to the Western States!
SHAWN -- [trembling with anxiety.] -- I'll give it to you and my new hat
(pulling it out of hamper); and my
breeches with the double seat (pulling it
off); and my new coat is woven from the blackest shearings for three miles
around (giving him the coat); I'll give you the whole of them, and my
blessing, and the
blessing of Father Reilly itself, maybe, if you'll quit from
this and leave us in the peace we had till last night at the fall of dark.
CHRISTY -- [with a new arrogance.] -- And for what is it you're
wanting to get
shut of me?
SHAWN -- [looking to the Widow for help.] -- I'm a poor
scholar with middling
faculties to coin a lie, so I'll tell you the truth, Christy Mahon. I'm
wedding with Pegeen beyond, and I don't think well of having a clever fearless
man the like of you
dwelling in her house.
CHRISTY -- [almost pugnaciously.] -- And you'd be using bribery for to banish
me?
SHAWN -- [in an imploring voice.] -- Let you not take it badly,
mister honey,
isn't beyond the best place for you where you'll have golden chains and shiny
coats and you riding upon hunters with the ladies of the land. [He makes an
eager sign to the Widow Quin to come to help him.]
WIDOW QUIN -- [coming over.] -- It's true for him, and you'd best quit off and
not have that poor girl
setting her mind on you, for there's Shaneen thinks
she wouldn't suit you though all is
saying that she'll wed you now.
[Christy beams with delight.]
SHAWN -- [in terrified earnest.] -- She wouldn't suit you, and she with the
divil's own
temper the way you'd be strangling one another in a score of days.
(He makes the
movement of strangling with his hands.) It's the like of me
only that she's fit for, a quiet simple fellow wouldn't raise a hand upon her
if she scratched itself.
WIDOW QUIN -- [putting Shawn's hat on Christy.] -- Fit them clothes on you
anyhow, young fellow, and he'd maybe loan them to you for the sports.
(Pushing him towards inner door.) Fit them on and you can give your answer
when you have them tried.
CHRISTY -- [beaming,
delighted with the clothes.] -- I will then. I'd like
herself to see me in them tweeds and hat. [He goes into room and shuts the
door.]
SHAWN -- [in great anxiety.] -- He'd like herself to see them. He'll not
leave us, Widow Quin. He's a score of divils in him the way it's well nigh
certain he will wed Pegeen.
WIDOW QUIN -- [jeeringly.] It's true all girls are fond of courage and do
hate the like of you.
SHAWN -- [walking about in desperation.] -- Oh, Widow Quin, what'll I be doing
now? I'd inform again him, but he'd burst from Kilmainham and he'd be sure and
certain to destroy me. If I wasn't so God-fearing, I'd near have courage to
come behind him and run a pike into his side. Oh, it's a hard case to be an
orphan and not to have your father that you're used to, and you'd easy kill
and make yourself a hero in the sight of all. (Coming up to her.) Oh, Widow
Quin, will you find me some
contrivance when I've promised you a ewe?
WIDOW QUIN. A ewe's a small thing, but what would you give me if I did wed
him and did save you so?
SHAWN -- [with astonishment.] You?
WIDOW QUIN. Aye. Would you give me the red cow you have and the mountainy
ram, and the right of way across your rye path, and a load of dung at
Michaelmas, and turbary upon the
western hill?
SHAWN -- [radiant with hope.] -- I would surely, and I'd give you the
wedding-ring I have, and the loan of a new suit, the way you'd have him
decenton the
wedding-day. I'd give you two kids for your dinner, and a
gallon of
poteen, and I'd call the piper on the long car to your
wedding from
Crossmolina or from Ballina. I'd give you . . .
WIDOW QUIN. That'll do so, and let you whisht, for he's coming now again.
[Christy comes in very natty in the new clothes. Widow Quin goes to him ad
miringly.]
WIDOW QUIN. If you seen yourself now, I'm thinking you'd be too proud to
speak to us at all, and it'd be a pity surely to have your like sailing from
Mayo to the Western World.
CHRISTY -- [as proud as a peacock.] -- I'm not going. If this is a poor place
itself, I'll make myself
contented to be
lodging here. [Widow Quin makes a
sign to Shawn to leave them.]
SHAWN. Well, I'm going measuring the race-course while the tide is low, so
I'll leave you the garments and my
blessing for the sports to-day. God bless
you! [He wriggles out.]
WIDOW QUIN -- [admiring Christy.] -- Well, you're
mightyspruce, young fellow.
Sit down now while you're quiet till you talk with me.
CHRISTY -- [swaggering.] I'm going
abroad on the
hillside for to seek Pegeen.
WIDOW QUIN. You'll have time and plenty for to seek Pegeen, and you heard me
saying at the fall of night the two of us should be great company.
CHRISTY. From this out I'll have no want of company when all sorts is
bringing me their food and clothing (he swaggers to the door, tightening his