Stories of Red HanrahanYeats, W. B. (William Butler)
General
Stories of Red Hanrahan
Yeats, W. B. (William Butler)
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
There was a cold wind creeping among the rushes, and Hanrahan began to
shiver, and he rose up to go to some house where there would be a fire
on the hearth. But instead of turning down the hill as he was used, he
went on up the hill, along the little track that was maybe a road and
maybe the dry bed of a stream. It was the same way Winny had gone, and
it led to the little cabin where she stopped when she stopped in any
place at all. He walked very slowly up the hill as if he had a great
load on his back, and at last he saw a light a little to the left, and
he thought it likely it was from Winny's house it was shining, and he
turned from the path to go to it. But clouds had come over the sky, and
he could not well see his way, and after he had gone a few steps his
foot slipped and he fell into a bog drain, and though he dragged himself
out of it, holding on to the roots of the heather, the fall had given
him a great shake, and he felt better fit to lie down than to go
travelling. But he had always great courage, and he made his way on,
step by step, till at last he came to Winny's cabin, that had no window,
but the light was shining from the door. He thought to go into it and
to rest for a while, but when he came to the door he did not see Winny
inside it, but what he saw was four old grey-haired women playing cards,
but Winny herself was not among them. Hanrahan sat down on a heap of
turf beside the door, for he was tired out and out, and had no wish for
talking or for card-playing, and his bones and his joints aching the
way they were. He could hear the four women talking as they played, and
calling out their hands. And it seemed to him that they were saying,
like the strange man in the barn long ago: 'Spades and Diamonds, Courage
and Power. Clubs and Hearts, Knowledge and Pleasure.' And he went on
saying those words over and over to himself; and whether or not he was
in his dreams, the pain that was in his shoulder never left him. And
after a while the four women in the cabin began to quarrel, and each one
to say the other had not played fair, and their voices grew from loud to
louder, and their screams and their curses, till at last the whole
air was filled with the noise of them around and above the house, and
Hanrahan, hearing it between sleep and waking, said: 'That is the sound
of the fighting between the friends and the ill-wishers of a man that is
near his death. And I wonder,' he said, 'who is the man in this lonely
place that is near his death.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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