(She hustles him out and bolts the door.) That lad would wear the spirits
from the saints of peace. (Bustles about, then takes off her apron and pins
it up in the window as a blind. Christy watching her timidly. Then she comes
to him and speaks with bland good-humour.) Let you stretch out now by the
fire, young fellow. You should be destroyed travelling.

CHRISTY -- [shyly again, drawing off his boots.) I'm tired, surely, walking
wild eleven days, and waking fearful in the night. [He holds up one of his
feet, feeling his blisters, and looking at them with compassion.]

PEGEEN -- [standing beside him, watching him with delight.] -- You should have
had great people in your family, I'm thinking, with the little, small feet you
have, and you with a kind of a quality name, the like of what you'd find on
the great powers and potentates of France and Spain.

CHRISTY -- [with pride.] -- We were great surely, with wide and windy acres of
rich Munster land.

PEGEEN. Wasn't I telling you, and you a fine, handsome young fellow with a
noble brow?

CHRISTY -- [with a flash of delighted surprise.] Is it me?

PEGEEN. Aye. Did you never hear that from the young girls where you come
from in the west or south?

CHRISTY -- [with venom.] -- I did not then. Oh, they're bloody liars in the
naked parish where I grew a man.

PEGEEN. If they are itself, you've heard it these days, I'm thinking, and you