Come over to me, Michael.

MICHAEL. Hush, father, listen to her.

OLD WOMAN. It is a hard service they take that help me. Many that are
red-cheeked now will be pale-cheeked; many that have been free to walk
the hills and the bogs and the rushes will be sent to walk hard streets
in far countries; many a good plan will be broken; many that have
gathered money will not stay to spend it; many a child will be born,
and there will be no father at its christening to give it a name. They
that had red cheeks will have pale cheeks for my sake; and for all
that, they will think they are well paid.

[_She goes out; her voice is heard outside singing._]

They shall be remembered for ever,
They shall be alive for ever,
They shall be speaking for ever,
The people shall hear them for ever.

BRIDGET [_to_ PETER]. Look at him, Peter; he has the look of a man
that has got the touch. [_Raising her voice._] Look here, Michael, at
the wedding-clothes. Such grand clothes as these are. You have a right
to fit them on now; it would be a pity to-morrow if they did not fit.
The boys would be laughing at you. Take them, Michael, and go into the
room and fit them on. [_She puts them on his arm._]

MICHAEL. What wedding are you talking of? What clothes will I be
wearing to-morrow?

BRIDGET. These are the clothes you are going to wear when you marry
Delia Cahel to-morrow.

MICHAEL. I had forgotten that.

[_He looks at the clothes and turns towards the inner room,
but stops at the sound of cheering outside._]

PETER. There is the shouting come to our own door. What is it has
happened?

[PATRICK _and_ DELIA _come in._]

PATRICK. There are ships in the Bay; the French are landing at Killala!

[PETER _takes his pipe from his mouth and his hat off, and
stands up. The clothes slip from_ MICHAEL's _arm._]

DELIA. Michael! [_He takes no notice._] Michael! [_He turns towards
her._] Why do you look at me like a stranger?

[_She drops his arm_. BRIDGET _goes over towards her._]

PATRICK. The boys are all hurrying down the hillsides to join the
French.

DELIA. Michael won't be going to join the French.

BRIDGET [_to_ PETER]. Tell him not to go, Peter.

PETER. It's no use. He doesn't hear a word we're saying.

BRIDGET. Try and coax him over to the fire.

DELIA. Michael! Michael! You won't leave me! You won't join the French,
and we going to be marrie