PEGEEN -- [backing away from him.] -- You've right daring to go ask me that,
when all knows you'll be starting to some girl in your own townland, when your
father's rotten in four months, or five.
CHRISTY -- [indignantly.] Starting from you, is it? (He follows her.) I
will not, then, and when the airs is warming in four months, or five, it's
then yourself and me should be pacing Neifin in the dews of night, the times
sweet smells do be rising, and you'd see a little shiny new moon, maybe,
sinking on the hills.
PEGEEN [looking at him playfully.] -- And it's that kind of a poacher's love
you'd make, Christy Mahon, on the sides of Neifin, when the night is down?
CHRISTY. It's little you'll think if my love's a poacher's, or an earl's
itself, when you'll feel my two hands stretched around you, and I squeezing
kisses on your puckered lips, till I'd feel a kind of pity for the Lord God is
all ages sitting lonesome in his golden chair.
PEGEEN. That'll be right fun, Christy Mahon, and any girl would walk her
heart out before she'd meet a young man was your like for eloquence, or talk,
at all.
CHRISTY -- [encouraged.] Let you wait, to hear me talking, till we're astray
in Erris, when Good Friday's by, drinking a sup from a well, and making mighty
kisses with our wetted mouths, or gaming in a gap or sunshine, with yourself
stretched back unto your necklace, in the flowers of the earth.
PEGEEN -- [in a lower voice, moved by his tone.] -- I'd be nice so, is it?
CHRISTY -- [with rapture.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76