all that had happened in the barn had gone from him, and all of his
journey but the soreness of his feet and the stiffness in his bones.

It was a year after that, there were men of the village of
Cappaghtagle sitting by the fire in a house on the roadside, and Red
Hanrahan that was now very thin and worn and his hair very long and
wild, came to the half-door and asked leave to come in and rest
himself; and they bid him welcome because it was Samhain night. He
sat down with them, and they gave him a glass of whiskey out of a
quart bottle; and they saw the little inkpot hanging about his neck,
and knew he was a scholar, and asked for stories about the Greeks.

He took the Virgil out of the big pocket of his coat, but the cover
was very black and swollen with the wet, and the page when he opened
it was very yellow, but that was no great matter, for he looked at it
like a man that had never learned to read. Some young man that was
there began to laugh at him then, and to ask why did he carry so
heavy a book with him when he was not able to read it.

It vexed Hanrahan to hear that, and he put the Virgil back in his
pocket and asked if they had a pack of cards among them, for cards
were better than books. When they brought out the cards he took them
and began to shuffle them, and while he was shuffling them something
seemed to come into his mind, and he put his hand to his face like
one that is trying to remember, and he said: 'Was I ever here before,
or where was I on a night like this?' and then of a sudden he stood
up and let the cards fall to the floor, and he said, 'Who was it
brought me a message from Mary Lavelle?'

'We never saw you before now, and we never heard of Mary Lavelle,'