] -- If the mitred bishops seen you that time, they'd
be the like of the holy prophets, I'm thinking, do be straining the bars of
Paradise to lay eyes on the Lady Helen of Troy, and she abroad, pacing back
and forward, with a nosegay in her golden shawl.
PEGEEN -- [with real tenderness.] -- And what is it I have, Christy Mahon, to
make me fitting entertainment for the like of you, that has such poet's
talking, and such bravery of heart?
CHRISTY -- [in a low voice.] -- Isn't there the light of seven heavens in your
heart alone, the way you'll be an angel's lamp to me from this out, and I
abroad in the darkness, spearing salmons in the Owen, or the Carrowmore?
PEGEEN. If I was your wife, I'd be along with you those nights, Christy
Mahon, the way you'd see I was a great hand at coaxing bailiffs, or coining
funny nick-names for the stars of night.
CHRISTY. You, is it? Taking your death in the hailstones, or in the fogs of
dawn.
PEGEEN. Yourself and me would shelter easy in a narrow bush, (with a qualm of
dread) but we're only talking, maybe, for this would be a poor, thatched place
to hold a fine lad is the like of you.
CHRISTY -- [putting his arm round her.] -- If I wasn't a good Christian, it's
on my naked knees I'd be saying my prayers and paters to every jackstraw you
have roofing your head, and every stony pebble is paving the laneway to your
door.
PEGEEN -- [radiantly.] If that's the truth, I'll be burning candles from this
out to the miracles of God that have brought you from the south to-day, and I,
with my gowns bought ready, the way that I can wed you, and not wait at all.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77