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TERESA

. Is it me you offer such a name to, you fou-mouthed, dirty-minded, lying, sloothering old sow, you? I wouldn’t soil my tongue by calling you in your right name and telling Sir Pearce what’s the common talk of the town about you. You and your O’Flahertys! setting yourself up agen the Driscolls that would never lower themselves to be seen in conversation with you at the fair. You can keep your ugly stingy lump of a son; for what is he but a common soldier? and God help the girl that gets him, say I! So the back of my hand to you, Mrs O’Flaherty; and that the cat may tear your ugly old face!

SIR PEARCE

. Silence. Tessie, did you hear me ordering you to go into the house? Mrs O’Flaherty! [Louder.] Mrs O’Flaherty!! Will you just listen to me one moment? Please. [Furiously.] Do you hear me speaking to you, woman? Are you human beings or are you wild beasts? Stop that noise immediately: do you hear? [Yelling.] Are you going to do what I order you, or are you not? Scandalous! Disgraceful! This comes of being too familiar with you. O’Flaherty, shove them into the house. Out with the whole damned pack of you.

O’FLAHERTY

[to the women]. Here now: none of that, none of that. Go easy, I tell you. Hold your whisht, mother, will you, or you’ll be sorry for it after. [To Teresa.] Is that the way for a decent young girl to speak? [Despairingly.] Oh, for the Lord’s sake, shut up, will yous? Have you no respect for yourselves or your betters? [Peremptorily.] Let me have no more of it, I tell you. Och! the divil’s in the whole crew of you. In with you into the house this very minute and tear one another’s eyes out in the kitchen if you like. In with you.

The two men seize the two women, and push them, still violently abusing one another, into the house. Sir Pearce slams the door upon them savagely. Immediately a heavenly silence falls on the summer afternoon. The two sit down out of breath: and for a long time nothing is said. Sir Pearce sits on an iron chair. O’Flaherty sits on the garden seat. The thrush begins to sing melodiously. O’Flaherty cocks his ears, and looks up at it. A smile spreads over his troubled features. Sir Pearce, with a long sigh, takes out his pipe and begins to fill it.

O’FLAHERTY

[idyllically]. What a discontented sort of an animal a man is, sir! Only a month ago, I was in the quiet of the country out at the front, with not a sound except the birds and the bellow of a cow in the distance as it might be, and the shrapnel making little clouds in the heavens, and the shells whistling, and maybe a yell or two when one of us was hit; and would you believe it, sir, I complained of the noise and wanted to have a peaceful hour at home. Well: them two has taught me a lesson. This morning, sir, when I was telling the boys here how I was longing to be back taking my part for king and country with the others, I was lying, as you well knew, sir. Now I can go and say it with a clear conscience. Some likes war’s alarums; and some likes home life. I’ve tried both, sir; and I’m for war’s alarums now. I always was a quiet lad by natural disposition.

SIR PEARCE

. Strictly between ourselves, O’Flaherty, and as one soldier to another [O’Flaherty salutes, but without stiffening], do you think we should have got an army without conscription if domestic life had been as happy as people say it is?

O’FLAHERTY

. Well, between you and me and the wall, Sir Pearce, I think the less we say about that until the war’s over, the better.

He winks at the General. The General strikes a match. The thrush sings. A jay laughs. The conversation drops.