The Well of the Saints HTML version

[The same Scene as in first Act, but gap in centre has been filled with briars, or branches
of some sort. Mary Doul, blind again, gropes her way in on left, and sits as before. She
has a few rushes with her. It is an early spring day.
MARY DOUL -- [mournfully.] -- Ah, God help me . . . God help me; the blackness
wasn't so black at all the other time as it is this time, and it's destroyed I'll be now, and
hard set to get my living working alone, when it's few are passing and the winds are cold.
(She begins shredding rushes.) I'm thinking short days will be long days to me from this
time, and I sitting here, not seeing a blink, or hearing a word, and no thought in my mind
but long prayers that Martin Doul'll get his reward in a short while for the villainy of his
heart. It's great jokes the people'll be making now, I'm thinking, and they pass me by,
pointing their fingers maybe, and asking what place is himself, the way it's no quiet or
decency I'll have from this day till I'm an old woman with long white hair and it twisting
from my brow. (She fumbles with her hair, and then seems to hear something. Listens for
a moment.) There's a queer, slouching step coming on the road. . . . God help me, he's
coming surely.
[She stays perfectly quiet. Martin Doul gropes in on right, blind also.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [gloomily.] -- The devil mend Mary Doul for putting lies on me, and
letting on she was grand. The devil mend the old Saint for letting me see it was lies. (He
sits down near her.) The devil mend Timmy the smith for killing me with hard work, and
keeping me with an empty, windy stomach in me, in the day and in the night. Ten
thousand devils mend the soul of Molly Byrne -- (Mary Doul nods her head with
approval.) -- and the bad, wicked souls is hidden in all the women of the world. (He rocks
himself, with his hand over his face.) It's lonesome I'll be from this day, and if living
people is a bad lot, yet Mary Doul, herself, and she a dirty, wrinkled-looking hag, was
better maybe to be sitting along with than no one at all. I'll be getting my death now, I'm
thinking, sitting alone in the cold air, hearing the night coming, and the blackbirds flying
round in the briars crying to themselves, the time you'll hear one cart getting off a long
way in the east, and another cart getting off a long way in the west, and a dog barking
maybe, and a little wind turning the sticks. (He listens and sighs heavily.) I'll be
destroyed sitting alone and losing my senses this time the way I'm after losing my sight,
for it'd make any person afeard to be sitting up hearing the sound of his breath -- (he
moves his feet on the stones) -- and the noise of his feet, when it's a power of queer
things do be stirring, little sticks breaking, and the grass moving -- (Mary Doul half sighs,
and he turns on her in horror) -- till you'd take your dying oath on sun and moon a thing
was breathing on the stones. (He listens towards her for a moment, then starts up
nervously, and gropes about for his stick.) I'll be going now, I'm thinking, but I'm not sure
what place my stick's in, and I'm destroyed with terror and dread. (He touches her face as
he is groping about and cries out.) There's a thing with a cold, living face on it sitting up
at my side. (He turns to run away, but misses his path and stumbles in against the wall.)