wind is blowing on the waving reeds,
The wind is blowing on the heart of man.

[_She dances, swaying about like the reeds._

MAIRE (_to_ SHAWN BRUIN).

Just now when she came near I thought I heard
Other small steps beating upon the floor,
And a faint music blowing in the wind--
Invisible pipes giving her feet the time.

SHAWN BRUIN.

I heard no step but hers.

MAIRE BRUIN.

Look to the bolt!
Because the unholy powers are abroad.

MAURTEEN BRUIN (_to the_ CHILD).

Come over here, and if you promise me
Not to talk wickedly of holy things
I'll give you something.

THE CHILD.

Bring it me, old father!

[MAURTEEN BRUIN _goes into the next room._

FATHER HART.

I will have queen cakes when you come to me!

[MAURTEEN BRUIN _returns and lays a piece of money on the table. The_
CHILD _makes a gesture of refusal._

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

It will buy lots of toys; see how it glitters!

THE CHILD.

Come, tell me, do you love me?

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

I love you!

THE CHILD.

Ah! but you love this fireside!

FATHER HART.

I love you.

THE CHILD.

But you love Him above.

BRIDGET BRUIN.

She is blaspheming.

THE CHILD (_to_ MAIRE).

And do you likewise love me?

MAIRE BRUIN.

I don't know.

THE CHILD.

You love that great tall fellow over there:
Yet I could make you ride upon the winds,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame!

MAIRE BRUIN.

Queen of the Angels and kind Saints defend us!
Some dreadful fate has fallen: before she came
The wind cried out and took the primroses.
And I gave milk and fire, and when she came
She made you hide the blessed crucifix;
She wears, too, the green jacket and red cap
Of the unholy creatures of the Raths.

FATHER HART.

You fear because of her wild, pretty prates;
She knows no better.
(_To the_ CHILD) Child, how old are you?

THE CHILD.

My own dear people live a long, long time,
So I am young; but measure by your years
And I am older than the eagle cock
Who blinks and blinks on Ballydawley Hill,
And he's the oldest thing under the moon.
At times I merely care to dance and dance--
At times grow wiser than the eagle cock.

FATHER HART.

What are you?

THE CHILD.

I am of the faery people.
I sent my messengers for milk and fire,
And then I heard one call to me and came.

[_They all except_ MAIRE BRUIN _gather about the priest for
pro