[_Goes out right._ NAISI. — _looking round._ — It’s a strange place he’s put us camping and we come back as his friends. DEIRDRE. He’s likely making up a welcome for us, having curtains shaken out and rich rooms put in order; and it’s right he’d have great state to meet us, and you his sister’s son. NAISI. — _gloomily._ — It’s little we want with state or rich rooms or curtains, when we’re used to the ferns only and cold streams and they making a stir. DEIRDRE. — _roaming round room._ — We want what is our right in Emain (_looking at hangings_), and though he’s riches in store for us it’s a shabby, ragged place he’s put us waiting, with frayed rugs and skins are eaten by the moths. NAISI. — _a little impatiently._ — There are few would worry over skins and moths on this first night that we’ve come back to Emain. DEIRDRE. — _brightly._ — You should be well pleased it’s for that I’d worry all times, when it’s I have kept your tent these seven years as tidy as a bee-hive or a linnet’s nest. If Conchubor’d a queen like me in Emain he’d not have stretched these rags to meet us. (_She pulls hanging, and it opens._) There’s new earth on the ground and a trench dug. . . . It’s a grave, Naisi, that is wide and deep. NAISI. — _goes over and pulls back curtain showing grave._ — And that’ll be our home in Emain. . . . He’s dug it wisely at the butt of a hill, with fallen trees to hide it. He’ll want to have us killed and buried before Fergus comes. DEIRDRE. Take me away. . . . Take me to hide in the rocks, for the night is coming quickly. NAISI. — _pulling himself together._ — I will not leave my brothers. DEIRDRE. — _vehemently._ — It’s of us two he’s jealous. Come away to the places where we’re used to have our company. . . . Wouldn’t it be a good thing to lie hid in the high ferns together? (_She pulls him left._) I hear strange words in the trees. NAISI. It should be the strange fighters of Conchubor. I saw them passing as we came. DEIRDRE. — _pulling him towards the right._ — Come to this side. Listen, Naisi! NAISI. There are more of them. . . . We are shut in, and I have not Ainnle and Ardan to stand near me. Isn’t it a hard thing that we three who have conquered many may not die together? DEIRDRE. — _sinking down._ — And isn’t it a hard thing that you and I are in this place by our opened grave; though none have lived had happiness like ours those days in Alban that went by so quick. NAISI. It’s a hard thing, surely, we’ve lost those days for ever; and yet it’s a good thing, maybe, that all goes quick, for when I’m in that grave it’s soon a day’ll come you’ll be too wearied to be crying out, and that day’ll bring you ease. DEIRDRE. I’ll not be here to know if that is true. NAISI. It’s our three selves he’ll kill tonight, and then in two months or three you’ll see him walking down for courtship with yourself. DEIRDRE. I’ll not be here.