Go off now after your wife, and if she beats you again, let you
go after the tinker girls is above running the hills, or down
among the sluts of the town, and you'll learn one day, maybe, the
way a man should speak with a well-reared, civil girl the like of
me. (She takes Timmy by the arm.) Come up now into the forge
till he'll be gone down a bit on the road, for it's near afeard I
am of the wild look he has come in his eyes.

[She goes into the forge. Timmy stops in the doorway.]

TIMMY. Let me not find you out here again, Martin Doul. (He
bares his arm.) It's well you know Timmy the smith has great
strength in his arm, and it's a power of things it has broken a
sight harder than the old bone of your skull.

[He goes into the forge and pulls the door after him.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [stands a moment with his hand to his eyes.] --
And that's the last thing I'm to set my sight on in the life of
the world -- the villainy of a woman and the bloody strength of a
man. Oh, God, pity a poor, blind fellow, the way I am this day
with no strength in me to do hurt to them at all. (He begins
groping about for a moment, then stops.) Yet if I've no strength
in me I've a voice left for my prayers, and may God blight them
this day, and my own soul the same hour with them, the way I'll
see them after, Molly Byrne and Timmy the smith, the two of them
on a high bed, and they screeching in hell. . . . It'll be a
grand thing that time to look on the two of them; and they
twisting and roaring out, and twisting and roaring again, one day
and the next day, and each day always and ever. It's not blind