SAINT. If it was a seeing man I heard talking to me the like of
that I'd put a black curse on him would weigh down his soul till
it'd be falling to hell; but you're a poor blind sinner, God
forgive you, and I don't mind you at all. (He raises his can.)
Go aside now till I give the blessing to your wife, and if you
won't go with your own will, there are those standing by will
make you, surely.
MARTIN DOUL -- [pulling Mary Doul.] -- Come along now, and don't
mind him at all.
SAINT -- [imperiously, to the People.] -- Let you take that man
and drive him down upon the road. [Some men seize Martin Doul.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [struggling and shouting.] -- Make them leave me
go, holy father! Make them leave me go, I'm saying, and you may
cure her this day, or do anything that you will.
SAINT -- [to People.] -- Let him be. . . . . Let him be if his
sense is come to him at all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [shakes himself loose, feels for Mary Doul,
sinking his voice to a plausible whine.] -- You may cure herself,
surely, holy father; I wouldn't stop you at all -- and it's great
joy she'll have looking on your face -- but let you cure myself
along with her, the way I'll see when it's lies she's telling,
and be looking out day and night upon the holy men of God.
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