SAINT. _to Martin Doul and Mary Doul._ — It’s a hard life you’ve had not seeing sun or moon, or the holy priests itself praying to the Lord, but it’s the like of you who are brave in a bad time will make a fine use of the gift of sight the Almighty God will bring to you today. (_He takes his cloak and puts it about him._) It’s on a bare starving rock that there’s the grave of the four beauties of God, the way it’s little wonder, I’m thinking, if it’s with bare starving people the water should be used. (_He takes the water and bell and slings them round his shoulders._) So it’s to the like of yourselves I do be going, who are wrinkled and poor, a thing rich men would hardly look at at all, but would throw a coin to or a crust of bread. MARTIN DOUL. _moving uneasily._ — When they look on herself, who is a fine woman. TIMMY. _shaking him._ — Whisht now, and be listening to the Saint. SAINT. _looks at them a moment, continues._ — If it’s raggy and dirty you are itself, I’m saying, the Almighty God isn’t at all like the rich men of Ireland; and, with the power of the water I’m after bringing in a little curagh into Cashla Bay, He’ll have pity on you, and put sight into your eyes. MARTIN DOUL. _taking off his hat._ — I’m ready now, holy father. SAINT. _taking him by the hand._ — I’ll cure you first, and then I’ll come for your wife. We’ll go up now into the church, for I must say a prayer to the Lord. (_To Mary Doul, as he moves off._) And let you be making your mind still and saying praises in your heart, for it’s a great wonderful thing when the power of the Lord of the world is brought down upon your like. PEOPLE. _pressing after him._ — Come now till we watch. BRIDE. Come, Timmy. SAINT. _waving them back._ — Stay back where you are, for I’m not wanting a big crowd making whispers in the church. Stay back there, I’m saying, and you’d do well to be thinking on the way sin has brought blindness to the world, and to be saying a prayer for your own sakes against false prophets and heathens, and the words of women and smiths, and all knowledge that would soil the soul or the body of a man. [_People shrink back. He goes into church. Mary Doul gropes half-way towards the door and kneels near path. People form a group at right._] TIMMY. Isn’t it a fine, beautiful voice he has, and he a fine, brave man if it wasn’t for the fasting? BRIDE. Did you watch him moving his hands? MOLLY BYRNE. It’d be a fine thing if some one in this place could pray the like of him, for I’m thinking the water from our own blessed well would do rightly if a man knew the way to be saying prayers, and then there’d be no call to be bringing water from that wild place, where, I’m told, there are no decent houses, or fine-looking people at all. BRIDE. _who is looking in at door from right._ — Look at the great trembling Martin has shaking him, and he on his knees.