MOLLY BYRNE -- [defiantly.] -- Let you not be talking, Mat Simon,
for it's not yourself will be my man, though you'd be crowing and
singing fine songs if you'd that hope in you at all.

TIMMY -- [shocked, to Molly Byrne.] -- Let you not be raising
your voice when the Saint's above at his prayers.

BRIDE -- [crying out.] -- Whisht. . . . Whisht. . . . I'm
thinking he's cured.

MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out in the church.] -- Oh, glory be to
God. . . .

SAINT -- [solemnly.] Laus Patri sit et Filio cum Spiritu
Paraclito Qui Suae dono gratiae misertus est Hiberniae. . . .

MARTIN DOUL -- [ecstatically.] -- Oh, glory be to God, I see now
surely. . . . I see the walls of the church, and the green bits
of ferns in them, and yourself, holy father, and the great width
of the sky.

[He runs out half-foolish with joy, and comes past Mary Doul as
she scrambles to her feet, drawing a little away from her as he
goes by.]

TIMMY -- [to the others.] -- He doesn't know her at all.

[The Saint comes out behind Martin Doul, and leads Mary Doul into
the church. Martin Doul comes on to the People. The men are
between him and the Girls; he verifies his position with his