and
her big eyes are a wonder, surely.

BRIDE -- [who has looked out left.] -- Here's the saint coming from the
selvage of the wood.... Strip the cloak from him, Molly, or he'll be
seeing it now.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [hastily to Bride.] -- Take the bell and put yourself by
the stones. (To Martin Doul.) Will you hold your head up till I loosen
the cloak? (She pulls off the cloak and throws it over her arm. Then she
pushes Martin Doul over and stands him beside Mary Doul.) Stand there
now, quiet, and let you not be saying a word.

[She and Bride stand a little on their left, demurely, with bell, etc.,
in their hands.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [nervously arranging his clothes.] -- Will he mind the
way we are, and not tidied or washed cleanly at all?

MOLLY BYRNE. He'll not see what way you are.... He'd walk by the finest
woman in Ireland, I'm thinking, and not trouble to raise his two eyes to
look upon her face.... Whisht!

[The Saint comes left, with crowd.]

SAINT. Are these the two poor people?

TIMMY -- [officiously.] -- They are, holy father; they do be always
sitting here at the crossing of the roads, asking a bit of copper from
them that do pass, or stripping rushes for lights, and they not mournful
at all, but talking out straight with a full voice, and making game with
them that likes it.

SAINT -- [to Martin Doul and Mary Doul.] -- It's a hard life you've had
not seeing sun or moon, or the holy priests itself praying to the Lord,
but it's the like of you who are brave in a bad time will make a fine
use of the gift of sight the Almighty God will bring to you today. (He
takes his cloak and puts it about him.) It's on a bare starving rock
that there's the grave of the four beauties of God, the way it's little
wonder, I'm thinking, if it's with bare starving people the water
should be used. (He takes the water and bell and slings them round his
shoulders.) So it's to the like of yourselves I do be going, who are
wrinkled and poor, a thing rich men would hardly look at at all, but
would throw a coin to or a crust of bread.

MARTIN DOUL -- [moving uneasily.] -- When they look on herself, who is a
fine woman.

TIMMY -- [shaking him.] -- Whisht now, and be listening to the Saint.

SAINT -- [looks at them a moment, continues.] -- If it's raggy and dirty
you are itself, I'm saying, the Almighty God isn't at all like the rich
men of Ireland; and, with the power of the water I'm after bringing in
a little curagh into Cash