章节正文
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?
BRIDE. Did you watch him moving his hands?
MOLLY BYRNE. It'd be a fine thing if some one in this place
could pray the like of him, for I'm thinking the water from our
own blessed well would do rightly if a man knew the way to be
saying prayers, and then there'd be no call to be bringing water
from that wild place, where, I'm told, there are no decent
houses, or fine-looking people at all.
BRIDE -- [who is looking in at door from right.] -- Look at the
great trembling Martin has shaking him, and he on his knees.
TIMMY -- [anxiously.] -- God help him. . . What will he be doing
when he sees his wife this day? I'm thinking it was bad work we
did when we let on she was fine-looking, and not a wrinkled,
wizened hag the way she is.
MAT SIMON. Why would he be vexed, and we after giving him great
joy and pride, the time he was dark?
MOLLY BYRNE -- [sitting down in Mary Doul's seat and tidying her
hair.] -- If it's vexed he is itself, he'll have other things now
to think on as well as his wife; and what does any man care for a
wife, when it's two weeks or three, he is looking on her face?
MAT SIMON. That's the truth now, Molly, and it's more joy dark
Martin got from the lies we told of that hag is kneeling by the
path than your own man will get from you, day or night, and he
living at your side.
MOLLY BYRNE -- [defiantly.] -- Let you not be talking, Mat Simon,
for it's not yourself will be my man, though you'd be crowing and
singing fine songs if you'd that hope in you at all.
TIMMY -- [shocked, to Molly Byrne.] -- Let you not be raising
your voice when the Saint's above at his prayers.
BRIDE -- [crying out.] -- Whisht. . . . Whisht. . . . I'm
thinking he's cured.
MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out in the church.] -- Oh, glory be to
God. . . .
SAINT -- [solemnly.] Laus Patri sit et Filio cum Spiritu
Paraclito Qui Suae dono gratiae misertus est Hiberniae. . . .
MARTIN DOUL -- [ecstatically.] -- Oh, glory be to God, I see now
surely. . . . I see the walls of the church, and the green bits
of ferns in them, and yourself, holy father, and the great width
of the sky.
[He runs out half-foolish with joy, and comes past Mary Doul as
she scrambles to her feet, drawing a little away from her as he
goes by.]
TIMMY -- [to the others.] -- He doesn't know her at all.
[The Saint comes out behind Martin Doul, and leads Mary Doul into
the church. Martin Doul comes on to the People. The men are
between him and the Girls; he verifies his position with his
stick.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out joyfully.] -- That's Timmy, I know
Timmy by the black of his head. . . . That's Mat Simon, I know
Mat by the length of his legs. . . . That should be Patch Ruadh,
with the gamey eyes in him, and the fiery hair. (He sees Molly
Byrne on Mary Doul's seat, and his voice changes completely.)
Oh, it was no lie they told me, Mary Doul. Oh, glory to God and
the seven saints I didn't die and not see you at all. The
blessing of God on the water, and the feet carried it round
through the land. The blessing of God on this day, and them that
brought me the Saint, for it's grand hair you have (she lowers
her head a little confused), and soft skin, and eyes would make
the saints, if they were dark awhile and seeing again, fall down
out of the sky. (He goes nearer to her.) Hold up your head,
Mary, the way I'll see it's richer I am than the great kings of
the east. Hold up your head, I'm saying, for it's soon you'll be
seeing me, and I not a bad one at all. [He touches her and she
starts up.]
MOLLY BYRNE. Let you keep away from me, and not be soiling my
chin. [People laugh heartily.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [bewildered.] -- It's Molly's voice you have.
MOLLY BYRNE. Why wouldn't I have my own voice? Do you think I'm
a ghost?
MARTIN DOUL. Which of you all is herself? (He goes up to
Bride.) Is it you is Mary Doul? I'm thinking you're more the
like of what they said (peering at her.) For you've yellow hair,
and white skin, and it's the smell of my own turf is rising from
your shawl. [He catches her shawl.]
BRIDE -- [pulling away her shawl.] -- I'm not your wife, and let
you get out of my way. [The People laugh again.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [with misgiving, to another Girl.] -- Is it
yourself it is? You're not so fine-looking, but I'm thinking
you'd do, with the grand nose you have, and your nice hands and
your feet.
GIRL -- [scornfully.] -- I never seen any person that took me for
blind, and a seeing woman, I'm thinking, would never wed the like
of you.
[She turns away, and the People laugh once more, drawing back a
little and leaving him on their left.]
PEOPLE -- [jeeringly.] -- Try again, Martin, try again, and
you'll be finding her yet.
MARTIN DOUL -- [passionately.] -- Where is it you have her hidden
away? Isn't it a black shame for a drove of pitiful beasts the
like of you to be making game of me, and putting a fool's head on
me the grand day of my life? Ah, you're thinking you're a fine
lot, with your giggling, weeping eyes, a fine lot to be making
game of myself and the woman I've heard called the great wonder
of the west.
[During this speech, which he gives with his back towards the
church, Mary Doul has come out with her sight cured, and come
down towards the right with a silly simpering smile, till she is
a little behind Martin Doul.]
MARY DOUL -- [when he pauses.] -- Which of you is Martin Doul?
MARTIN DOUL -- [wheeling round.] -- It's her voice surely. [They
stare at each other blankly.]
MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Martin Doul.] -- Go up now and take her under
the chin and be speaking the way you spoke to myself.
MARTIN DOUL -- [in a low voice, with intensity.] -- If I speak
now, I'll speak hard to the two of you.
MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Mary Doul.] -- You're not saying a word, Mary.
What is it you think of himself, with the fat legs on him, and
the little neck like a ram?
MARY DOUL. I'm thinking it's a poor thing when the Lord God
gives you sight and puts the like of that man in your way.
MARTIN DOUL. It's on your two knees you should be thanking the
Lord God you're not looking on yourself, for if it was yourself
you seen you'd be running round in a short while like the old
screeching mad-woman is running round in the glen.
MARY DOUL -- [beginning to realize herself.] -- If I'm not so
fine as some of them said, I have my hair, and big eyes, and my
white skin.
MARTIN DOUL -- [breaking out into a passionate cry.] -- Your
hair, and your big eyes, is it? . . . I'm telling you there
isn't a wisp on any gray mare on the ridge of the world isn't
finer than the dirty twist on your head. There isn't two eyes in
any starving sow isn't finer than the eyes you were calling blue
like the sea.
MARY DOUL -- [interrupting him.] -- It's the devil cured you this
day with your talking of sows; it's the devil cured you this day,
I'm saying, and drove you crazy with lies.
MARTIN DOUL. Isn't it yourself is after playing lies on me, ten
years, in the day and in the night; but what is that to you now
the Lord God has given eyes to me, the way I see you an old
wizendy hag, was never fit to rear a child to me itself.
MARY DOUL. I wouldn't rear a crumpled whelp the like of you.
It's many a woman is married with finer than yourself should be
praising God if she's no child, and isn't loading the earth with
things would make the heavens lonesome above, and they scaring
the larks, and the crows, and the angels passing in the sky.
MARTIN DOUL. Go on now to be seeking a lonesome place where the
earth can hide you away; go on now, I'm saying, or you'll be
having men and women with their knees bled, and they screaming to
God for a holy water would darken their sight, for there's no man
but would liefer be blind a hundred years, or a thousand itself,
than to be looking on your like.
MARY DOUL -- [raising her stick.] -- Maybe if I hit you a strong
blow you'd be blind again, and having what you want.
[The Saint is seen in the church door with his head bent in
prayer.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [raising his stick and driving Mary Doul back
towards left.] -- Let you keep off from me now if you wouldn't
have me strike out the little handful of brains you have about on
the road.
[He is going to strike her, but Timmy catches him by the arm.]
TIMMY. Have you no shame to be making a great row, and the Saint
above saying his prayers?
MARTIN DOUL. What is it I care for the like of him? (Struggling
to free himself). Let me hit her one good one, for the love of
the Almighty God, and I'll be quiet after till I die.
TIMMY -- [shaking him.] -- Will you whisht, I'm saying.
SAINT -- [coming forward, centre.] -- Are their minds troubled
with joy, or is their sight uncertain, the way it does often be
the day a person is restored?
TIMMY. It's too certain their sight is, holy father; and they're
after making a great fight, because they're a pair of pitiful
shows.
SAINT -- [coming between them.] -- May the Lord who has given you
sight send a little sense into your heads, the way it won't be on
your two selves you'll be looking -- on two pitiful sinners of
the earth -- but on the splendour of the Spirit of God, you'll
see an odd time shining out through the big hills, and steep
streams falling to the sea. For if it's on the like of that you
do be thinking, you'll not be minding the faces of men, but
you'll be saying prayers and great praises, till you'll be living
the way the great saints do be living, with little but old sacks,
and skin covering their bones. (To Timmy.) Leave him go now,
you're seeing he's quiet again. (He frees Martin Doul.) And let
you (he turns to Mary Doul) not be raising your voice, a bad
thing in a woman; but let the lot of you, who have seen the power
of the Lord, be thinking on it in the dark night, and be saying
to yourselves it's great pity and love He has for the poor,
starving people of Ireland. (He gathers his cloak about him.)
And now the Lord send blessing to you all, for I am going on to
Annagolan, where there is a deaf woman, and to Laragh, where
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?
BRIDE. Did you watch him moving his hands?
MOLLY BYRNE. It'd be a fine thing if some one in this place
could pray the like of him, for I'm thinking the water from our
own blessed well would do rightly if a man knew the way to be
saying prayers, and then there'd be no call to be bringing water
from that wild place, where, I'm told, there are no decent
houses, or fine-looking people at all.
BRIDE -- [who is looking in at door from right.] -- Look at the
great trembling Martin has shaking him, and he on his knees.
TIMMY -- [anxiously.] -- God help him. . . What will he be doing
when he sees his wife this day? I'm thinking it was bad work we
did when we let on she was fine-looking, and not a wrinkled,
wizened hag the way she is.
MAT SIMON. Why would he be vexed, and we after giving him great
joy and pride, the time he was dark?
MOLLY BYRNE -- [sitting down in Mary Doul's seat and tidying her
hair.] -- If it's vexed he is itself, he'll have other things now
to think on as well as his wife; and what does any man care for a
wife, when it's two weeks or three, he is looking on her face?
MAT SIMON. That's the truth now, Molly, and it's more joy dark
Martin got from the lies we told of that hag is kneeling by the
path than your own man will get from you, day or night, and he
living at your side.
MOLLY BYRNE -- [defiantly.] -- Let you not be talking, Mat Simon,
for it's not yourself will be my man, though you'd be crowing and
singing fine songs if you'd that hope in you at all.
TIMMY -- [shocked, to Molly Byrne.] -- Let you not be raising
your voice when the Saint's above at his prayers.
BRIDE -- [crying out.] -- Whisht. . . . Whisht. . . . I'm
thinking he's cured.
MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out in the church.] -- Oh, glory be to
God. . . .
SAINT -- [solemnly.] Laus Patri sit et Filio cum Spiritu
Paraclito Qui Suae dono gratiae misertus est Hiberniae. . . .
MARTIN DOUL -- [ecstatically.] -- Oh, glory be to God, I see now
surely. . . . I see the walls of the church, and the green bits
of ferns in them, and yourself, holy father, and the great width
of the sky.
[He runs out half-foolish with joy, and comes past Mary Doul as
she scrambles to her feet, drawing a little away from her as he
goes by.]
TIMMY -- [to the others.] -- He doesn't know her at all.
[The Saint comes out behind Martin Doul, and leads Mary Doul into
the church. Martin Doul comes on to the People. The men are
between him and the Girls; he verifies his position with his
stick.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out joyfully.] -- That's Timmy, I know
Timmy by the black of his head. . . . That's Mat Simon, I know
Mat by the length of his legs. . . . That should be Patch Ruadh,
with the gamey eyes in him, and the fiery hair. (He sees Molly
Byrne on Mary Doul's seat, and his voice changes completely.)
Oh, it was no lie they told me, Mary Doul. Oh, glory to God and
the seven saints I didn't die and not see you at all. The
blessing of God on the water, and the feet carried it round
through the land. The blessing of God on this day, and them that
brought me the Saint, for it's grand hair you have (she lowers
her head a little confused), and soft skin, and eyes would make
the saints, if they were dark awhile and seeing again, fall down
out of the sky. (He goes nearer to her.) Hold up your head,
Mary, the way I'll see it's richer I am than the great kings of
the east. Hold up your head, I'm saying, for it's soon you'll be
seeing me, and I not a bad one at all. [He touches her and she
starts up.]
MOLLY BYRNE. Let you keep away from me, and not be soiling my
chin. [People laugh heartily.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [bewildered.] -- It's Molly's voice you have.
MOLLY BYRNE. Why wouldn't I have my own voice? Do you think I'm
a ghost?
MARTIN DOUL. Which of you all is herself? (He goes up to
Bride.) Is it you is Mary Doul? I'm thinking you're more the
like of what they said (peering at her.) For you've yellow hair,
and white skin, and it's the smell of my own turf is rising from
your shawl. [He catches her shawl.]
BRIDE -- [pulling away her shawl.] -- I'm not your wife, and let
you get out of my way. [The People laugh again.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [with misgiving, to another Girl.] -- Is it
yourself it is? You're not so fine-looking, but I'm thinking
you'd do, with the grand nose you have, and your nice hands and
your feet.
GIRL -- [scornfully.] -- I never seen any person that took me for
blind, and a seeing woman, I'm thinking, would never wed the like
of you.
[She turns away, and the People laugh once more, drawing back a
little and leaving him on their left.]
PEOPLE -- [jeeringly.] -- Try again, Martin, try again, and
you'll be finding her yet.
MARTIN DOUL -- [passionately.] -- Where is it you have her hidden
away? Isn't it a black shame for a drove of pitiful beasts the
like of you to be making game of me, and putting a fool's head on
me the grand day of my life? Ah, you're thinking you're a fine
lot, with your giggling, weeping eyes, a fine lot to be making
game of myself and the woman I've heard called the great wonder
of the west.
[During this speech, which he gives with his back towards the
church, Mary Doul has come out with her sight cured, and come
down towards the right with a silly simpering smile, till she is
a little behind Martin Doul.]
MARY DOUL -- [when he pauses.] -- Which of you is Martin Doul?
MARTIN DOUL -- [wheeling round.] -- It's her voice surely. [They
stare at each other blankly.]
MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Martin Doul.] -- Go up now and take her under
the chin and be speaking the way you spoke to myself.
MARTIN DOUL -- [in a low voice, with intensity.] -- If I speak
now, I'll speak hard to the two of you.
MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Mary Doul.] -- You're not saying a word, Mary.
What is it you think of himself, with the fat legs on him, and
the little neck like a ram?
MARY DOUL. I'm thinking it's a poor thing when the Lord God
gives you sight and puts the like of that man in your way.
MARTIN DOUL. It's on your two knees you should be thanking the
Lord God you're not looking on yourself, for if it was yourself
you seen you'd be running round in a short while like the old
screeching mad-woman is running round in the glen.
MARY DOUL -- [beginning to realize herself.] -- If I'm not so
fine as some of them said, I have my hair, and big eyes, and my
white skin.
MARTIN DOUL -- [breaking out into a passionate cry.] -- Your
hair, and your big eyes, is it? . . . I'm telling you there
isn't a wisp on any gray mare on the ridge of the world isn't
finer than the dirty twist on your head. There isn't two eyes in
any starving sow isn't finer than the eyes you were calling blue
like the sea.
MARY DOUL -- [interrupting him.] -- It's the devil cured you this
day with your talking of sows; it's the devil cured you this day,
I'm saying, and drove you crazy with lies.
MARTIN DOUL. Isn't it yourself is after playing lies on me, ten
years, in the day and in the night; but what is that to you now
the Lord God has given eyes to me, the way I see you an old
wizendy hag, was never fit to rear a child to me itself.
MARY DOUL. I wouldn't rear a crumpled whelp the like of you.
It's many a woman is married with finer than yourself should be
praising God if she's no child, and isn't loading the earth with
things would make the heavens lonesome above, and they scaring
the larks, and the crows, and the angels passing in the sky.
MARTIN DOUL. Go on now to be seeking a lonesome place where the
earth can hide you away; go on now, I'm saying, or you'll be
having men and women with their knees bled, and they screaming to
God for a holy water would darken their sight, for there's no man
but would liefer be blind a hundred years, or a thousand itself,
than to be looking on your like.
MARY DOUL -- [raising her stick.] -- Maybe if I hit you a strong
blow you'd be blind again, and having what you want.
[The Saint is seen in the church door with his head bent in
prayer.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [raising his stick and driving Mary Doul back
towards left.] -- Let you keep off from me now if you wouldn't
have me strike out the little handful of brains you have about on
the road.
[He is going to strike her, but Timmy catches him by the arm.]
TIMMY. Have you no shame to be making a great row, and the Saint
above saying his prayers?
MARTIN DOUL. What is it I care for the like of him? (Struggling
to free himself). Let me hit her one good one, for the love of
the Almighty God, and I'll be quiet after till I die.
TIMMY -- [shaking him.] -- Will you whisht, I'm saying.
SAINT -- [coming forward, centre.] -- Are their minds troubled
with joy, or is their sight uncertain, the way it does often be
the day a person is restored?
TIMMY. It's too certain their sight is, holy father; and they're
after making a great fight, because they're a pair of pitiful
shows.
SAINT -- [coming between them.] -- May the Lord who has given you
sight send a little sense into your heads, the way it won't be on
your two selves you'll be looking -- on two pitiful sinners of
the earth -- but on the splendour of the Spirit of God, you'll
see an odd time shining out through the big hills, and steep
streams falling to the sea. For if it's on the like of that you
do be thinking, you'll not be minding the faces of men, but
you'll be saying prayers and great praises, till you'll be living
the way the great saints do be living, with little but old sacks,
and skin covering their bones. (To Timmy.) Leave him go now,
you're seeing he's quiet again. (He frees Martin Doul.) And let
you (he turns to Mary Doul) not be raising your voice, a bad
thing in a woman; but let the lot of you, who have seen the power
of the Lord, be thinking on it in the dark night, and be saying
to yourselves it's great pity and love He has for the poor,
starving people of Ireland. (He gathers his cloak about him.)
And now the Lord send blessing to you all, for I am going on to
Annagolan, where there is a deaf woman, and to Laragh, where
- blessing [´blesiŋ]
n.祝福 (初中英语单词) - awhile [ə´wail] ad.少顷；片刻 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- uncertain [ʌn´sə:tn] a.不定的；不可靠的 (初中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- shrink [ʃriŋk] v.收缩；退缩；畏缩 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- pitiful [´pitifəl] a.可怜的；慈悲的 (高中英语单词)
- passionate [´pæʃənit] a.易动情的；易怒的 (高中英语单词)
- lonesome [´ləunsəm] a.孤独的；冷清清的 (高中英语单词)
- darken [´dɑ:kən] v.变黑，转暗 (高中英语单词)
- handful [hændful] n.一把，少数，一小撮 (高中英语单词)
- ireland [´aiələnd] n.爱尔兰 (高中英语单词)
- blindness [´blaindnis] n.失明；愚味，文盲 (英语四级单词)
- blessed [´blesid] a.享福的；神圣的 (英语四级单词)
- rightly [´raitli] ad.正义地；正确地 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- almighty [ɔ:l´maiti] a.万能的；全能的 (英语四级单词)
- wanting [´wɔntiŋ, wɑ:n-] a.短缺的；不足的 (英语六级单词)
- misgiving [mis´giviŋ] n.疑虑，忧虑 (英语六级单词)
- weeping [´wi:piŋ] a.&n.哭泣(的) (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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