I'll be going now, Murtagh.
MURTAGH COSGAR
Stop! _(clutching him)_ You know about Matt. What woman is he
thinking of?
MARTIN DOURAS
_(frightened)_ We'll talk about it again, Murtagh. I said I'd be back.
MURTAGH COSGAR
We'll talk about it now. Who is she? What name has she?
MARTIN DOURAS
_(breaking from him and speaking with sudden dignity)_ It's a good
name, Murtagh Cosgar; it's my own name.
MURTAGH COSGAR
Your daughter! Ellen! You're--
MARTIN DOURAS
Ay, a good name, and a good girl.
MURTAGH COSGAR
And do you think a son of mine would marry a daughter of yours?
MARTIN DOURAS
What great difference is between us, after all?
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(fiercely)_ The daughter of a man who'd be sitting over his fire
reading his paper, and the clouds above his potatoes, and the cows
trampling his oats. _(Martin is beaten down)_ Do you know me at all,
Martin Douras? I came out of a little house by the roadway and built
my house on a hill. I had many children. Coming home in the long
evenings, or kneeling still when the prayers would be over, I'd have
my dreams. A son in Aughnalee, a son in Ballybrian, a son in Dunmore,
a son of mine with a shop, a son of mine saying Mass in Killnalee.
And I have a living name--a name in flesh and blood.
MARTIN DOURAS
God help you, Murtagh Cosgar.
MURTAGH COSGAR
But I've a son still. It's not your daughter he'll be marrying.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80