The Well of the Saints

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 curragh into Cashla Bay, He’ll have pity on you, and put sight into your eyes. 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 halfway 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 someone 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