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KING PELLINORE’S LITERARY MAGAZINE

coining funny nick-names for the we'll tell him, for he's peaceful then.
stars of night. (They separate.)
CHRISTY. You, is it? Taking MICHAEL -- (singing outside) --
your death in the hailstones, or in the The jailor and the turnkey They
fogs of dawn. quickly ran us down, And brought us
PEGEEN. Yourself and me would back as prisoners Once more to Cavan
shelter easy in a narrow bush, (with a town. (He comes in supported by
qualm of dread) but we're only talk- Shawn.) There we lay bewailing All
ing, maybe, for this would be a poor, in a prison bound.... (He sees Christy.
thatched place to hold a fine lad is Goes and shakes him drunkenly by
the like of you. the hand, while Pegeen and Shawn
CHRISTY -- (putting his arm talk on the left.)
round her.) -- If I wasn't a good MICHAEL -- (to Christy.) -- The
Christian, it's on my naked knees I'd blessing of God and the holy angels on
be saying my prayers and paters to your head, young fellow. I hear tell
every jackstraw you have roofing your you're after winning all in the sports
head, and every stony pebble is paving below; and wasn't it a shame I didn't
the laneway to your door. bear you along with me to Kate Cassi-
PEGEEN -- (radiantly.) If that's dy's wake, a fine, stout lad, the like of
the truth, I'll be burning candles you, for you'd never see the match of
from this out to the miracles of God it for flows of drink, the way when we
that have brought you from the south sunk her bones at noonday in her nar-
to-day, and I, with my gowns bought row grave, there were five men, aye,
ready, the way that I can wed you, and six men, stretched out retching
and not wait at all. speechless on the holy stones.
CHRISTY. It's miracles, and CHRISTY -- (uneasily, watching
that's the truth. Me there toiling a Pegeen.) -- Is that the truth?
long while, and walking a long while, MICHAEL. It is then, and aren't
not knowing at all I was drawing all you a louty schemer to go burying
times nearer to this holy day. your poor father unbeknownst when
PEGEEN. And myself, a girl, was you'd a right to throw him on the
tempted often to go sailing the seas crupper of a Kerry mule and drive
till I'd marry a Jew-man, with ten him westwards, like holy Joseph in
kegs of gold, and I not knowing at all the days gone by, the way we could
there was the like of you drawing have given him a decent burial, and
nearer, like the stars of God. not have him rotting beyond, and not
CHRISTY. And to think I'm long a Christian drinking a smart drop to
years hearing women talking that the glory of his soul?
talk, to all bloody fools, and this the CHRISTY -- (gruffly.) It's well
first time I've heard the like of your enough he's lying, for the likes of
voice talking sweetly for my own de- him.
light. MICHAEL -- (slapping him on
PEGEEN. And to think it's me is the back.) -- Well, aren't you a hard-
talking sweetly, Christy Mahon, and I ened slayer? It'll be a poor thing for
the fright of seven townlands for my the household man where you go
biting tongue. Well, the heart's a sniffing for a female wife; and
wonder; and, I'm thinking, there (pointing to Shawn) look beyond at
won't be our like in Mayo, for gallant that shy and decent Christian I have
lovers, from this hour, to-day. chosen for my daughter's hand, and I
(Drunken singing is heard outside.) after getting the gilded dispensation
There's my father coming from the this day for to wed them now.
wake, and when he's had his sleep

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