one of them. "No," says he, "not a string will I touch while the
master of us is here." That's something like the spirit. _(Maire has
turned to him and is attentive)_ But there, I won't fill myself up
with false music telling you about it all.

_He turns to the room_.

MAIRE
Bring up your fiddle.

CONN
_(taking fiddle and going towards room again)_ It will be as
good as sound sleeping for me. I'll never forget it. Flynn will
never forget it. It will be the making of Flynn.

_Maire rises_.

MAIRE
You've only your fiddle; we shouldn't forget that.

_Conn goes up to the room. Maire turns to the fire. Anne comes down_.

ANNE
O Maire, what will become of us at all?

MAIRE
He is very pleased with himself. He has only his fiddle, we
shouldn't forget that.

ANNE