Pádraig: We'll sit here on the bridge. look at the light from the moon reflecting off the water from the river.... a night in may... do you smell the fragrance in the air? the bright hawthorn, the woodbine in the hedge and the valuable money in the moon light. look how the leaves are at the top of the tree so bright. each and every leaf is glistening as money would under the light of the moon.
Máire: i love how you talk!
pádraig: i'm not the one who came up with that speech love, but a man better than me, a poet- a poet that existed long ago. if he wasn't there at that time he wouldn't be here now. if he was here now he'd write a poem of praise for the young girl whose reflection we see in the river. look! he'd compose a poem with broad bright clothes, mannerly and gentle like a nun would be. and he'd compose a poem about your small timid smile on your face and the wildness that is hidden between your two eyes... a night in may máire. a beautiful may's night. A night like this would make you sentimental. isn't it strange how life plays a game on you...if we could judge our lives between two hands and mold it for our own happiness.. your thinking of becoming a nun?
máire: that's what my mother says
pádraig: i once thought i'd go into the priesthood. i was in a religious order. i was thrown out of the college. the abbot caught me smoking in the garden and that sent me on my way.
máire: and you did nothing except smoke a cigarette?
pádraig: he was right. he was a sensible man. he knew that being a priest was not my calling. he did the right thing... i qualified as a teacher in the order. i got a job without any bother... i got married early after that.
máire: your married!
pádraig: oh yeah, as soon as i left college i was marched up the alter with a young girl.. i married nora three months after leaving college. i was twenty three and she was older. she was a beautiful girl. i thought there was something unusual about her.like you, máire.
máire: where is she tonight? why isn't she dancing?
pádraig: she wouldn't come. she can't dance...i had little knowledge... its clear that a germination of a disease appeared in her,,, a disease that wore her down... a disease without a cure, máire... she was never a proper wife to me.
máire: pádraig!
pádraig: your too young to understand these things... too young, too innocent... and your two eyes staring at me.. stars are lighting in both your eyes.. you should be enclosed in a convent... is it ant better to be listening to him? you are better off listening to my story on this fine night after dancing..
máire: i have to go home. my mother will be worried. she'll stay awake until i return... goodnight pádraig and thank you.
pádraig: goodnight. don't tell your mother anything.
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