All language subtitles for Touch Of The Poet 1974

God bless all here, even the barkeep.
Top of the morning.

Top of me head.

With a sense there's a blacksmith at
work.

Small wonder. You had that devil's own
robe when you left the two this morning.

Yeah, I must have. I don't remember
leaving.

You're taking it easy.

Well, let's now trade this time of the
day. It was a great temptation when I

saw no one in the bar to make off with a
bottle.

Here are the dogs, what I'm needing.

That devil appending the pantaloons.

I want to know how. Thank you, kind man.

Sure, the good Samaritan was a cruel
haven beside you. It's the same he was

drinking last night.

His private duke. He keeps it in there
for a margin fee. Leave it to Khan,

never to be caught dry.

Your health and inclinations.

If they're virtue.

Khan's not down yet for his morning's
morning. No, he won't be till later.

It's a miracle, me meeting him again.

I come to these parts looking for work.
Only by accident I heard tell of a Khan,

Melody. I come see what's at him.

Until that night, I not seen hiding or
hear of him since the war with the

French in Spain in 12.

I was corporal in the 7th Dragoons. He
was major.

I got this cut at Talavera.

Bad luck to it. Serving under him. He
was captain then. So you told me last

night.

Did I now?

Oh, yeah. I must have said more than me
prayers for the lashings of whiskey.

More than your prayers, it's the truth.

Take another taste.

Oh, I don't like sponging.

Sure, my credit ought to be good in
this, Shabine.

Ain't I his cousin? Ah, you're
forgetting what himself told you last

night as he went upstairs to beg.

He said you could have all the whiskey
you could pour down you, but not a

penny's worth of credit. This house, he
asks you to remember, only gives credit

to gentlemen.

Gentlemen. You get thinking about his
insults after he's gone out, getting

madder and madder.

God, but that's like him. He hasn't
changed much.

If I was mad at Con and me blind drunk,
I must have told you a power of lies.

Maybe they wasn't lies.

Tell me what I said. I'll tell you if it
was, Lord. You said... You said his

father wasn't of the quality of Galway,
like he makes out, but only a thieving

shebeen keeper who got rich by
moneylending and squeezing tenants in

every manner of trick.

And when he's enough, he married and
bought on his stage with a pack of

hounds and set up as one of the gentry.

He'd hardly got settled when his wife
died, give him birth to come. There's no

lie there.

You said none of the gentry would speak
to old Melody.

Yes, but he had a tough hide and he
didn't heed them. He made up his mind.

He'd bring Con up to be a true
gentleman's son.

And so he packed him off to Dublin to
school. And then to the college with

slews of money to prove himself the
equal of any gentleman's son. But Con

soon found that there was plenty to
drink on him and borrow money.

There was few didn't sneer behind his
back at his pretensions.

And that's the truth too. But Con soon
wiped the sneers off their mouths when

he called one of them out and put a
bullet in his hip.

That was his first duel.

And it gave his pride a taste for
revenge, so that after that, he was

always looking for an excuse to
challenge someone. He's done a power of

both and about it. I thought he was
lying. There's no lying in it.

It was that brought disgrace on him in
the end, right after he'd been promoted

to major.

He was caught by a Spanish noble making
love to his wife, and there was a duel

that killed him.

The scandal was hushed up, but...

Conan had to resign from the army.

If it wasn't for his fine record for
bravery in battle, they'd have court

-martialed him.

Well, then, I'm saying more and more of
my prayers again. There's no news about

his women.

You'd think to hear him when he's drunk,
there wasn't one who could resist him in

Portugal and Spain.

Oh, if you'd seen him then, you wouldn't
wonder.

He was strong as an ox.

On a thoroughbred horse in his fine
uniform, there wasn't a handsomer man in

the army.

And he had the chance he wanted in
Portugal and Spain, where a British

officer was welcome in the gentry's
houses. At home, the only women he'd

ever known was whores.

Except Nora, of course. Speaking of
Nora, death night, when he's madder

drunk than most, when he throws it in
her face, he had to marry her because...

Oh, now, mind you, I'm not saying
anything against poor Nora. No, a

sweeter woman never lived. But he tells
her that it was the priests.

tricked him into marrying her. He hates
priests.

He's a liar, Dan.

He may like to blame it on them, but his
little con Melody cared what they said.

He married Nora because he was in love
with her.

He was ashamed of her at the same time
in his pride because her folks was only

ignorant peasants on his estate.

It's poor, it's poor.

Oh, Nora, no. She was pretty a girl he
should meet in a year's travel.

And he'd grown bitter lonely with no
woman's company but the whores was

helping him ruin his estate.

Well, anyways.

He married her.

And then he went off to the war.

He left her alone in the castle to have
her child.

He never laid eyes on him again until he
was sent home from Spain.

And then he raised what little money he
was able and brought her and Sarah here

to America, where no one would know him.

Well, thank you for telling me.

And I take my oath. I never breathe a
word of it.

For Nora's sake, not his.

You better keep quiet for fear of him,
too.

He's half the man he was.

He could beat the lights out of both of
us.

Drink, Artie. Long life.

Oh, that's Sarah, isn't it?

I'd better be going.

She'd likely blame me for getting
Constable drunk last night.

I'll come back when Con is down.

I'd be damned if I'd run from her.

I'm sorry to interrupt you when you're
so busy, but have you your bar book

ready for me to look over? I have.

I left it on your desk.

Thank you.

If it's profit you're looking for, you
won't find them.

Not with all the drinks himself's been
treating to.

Well, you've your airs of a grand lady
this morning, I see.

There's no talking to you ever since you
betrayed your nursemaid, the young

Yankee, upstairs.

Well, you've had your cap set for him
ever since he come to live, by the way.

And how's your chance when he's here
sick and too weak to defend himself?

I warn you, Mickey, to mind your own
business or I'll tell my father of your

impudence. He'll teach you to keep your
place and God help you. Mara, don't try

to scare me. I know you've never carried
heads to him.

Well, can you take a bit of teasing,
Sarah?

Leave Simon out of your teasing. Oh,
he's Simon to you now, is he? Well,

well.

Maybe if you'd come down from your high
horse, I could tell you some news.

You're working an old woman for gossip.

I don't want to hear it. Well, you was
upstairs at the back taking him his

breakfast. There was a grand carriage
with a coachman stopped at the corner.

And the Yankee lady got out and come in
here.

I was there sweeping. Nora was scrubbing
in the kitchen.

She asked me... What road would take her
to the lake?

Hmm? So I told her, but she didn't go.

She kept looking around, said she'd like
a cup of tea. And where was the

waitress? I knew she must be connected
somehow with Harford, for why would she

want to go near the lake where nobody's
ever lived but him?

So she asked for the waitress, did she?

Well, I hope you told her I'm the
owner's daughter too.

I did.

I don't like Yankee Heirs any more than
you do. I was short with her. I said you

was out for a walk.

And the tavern wasn't open yet anyway,
so she went off and drove away.

What did she look like, Mickey?

Pretty.

If you like that sort, a pale, delicate
wisp of a thing with big eyes.

That fits what he said of his mother.

Maybe he ought to have told her he's
here sick to save her the drive and the

hot sun and the walk in the woods for
nothing. Why would I tell her when she

never mentioned him?

Yeah, it's her own fault.

But...

Well, there's no use bothering my head
about her anyway, whoever she was.

Ah, God bless you, Nora. You're the one
I've been waiting to see. Would you keep

an eye on the bar for me while I go to
the store for a bit of backing? Don't do

it, Mother.

Why wouldn't I?

Thank you, Nora.

And the back of me hand to you, young
ladyship.

I shouldn't encourage his laziness. Oh,
never mind, Tammy, the good lad.

That says to the rheumatism.

Has me destroyed, I'm sorry.

Told you a hundred times to see the
doctor.

We've no money for doctors.

What bad luck, anyway.

I bring death with them.

Your father will be down soon.

I got some fine fresh eggs for his
breakfast.

He won't want them.

You mean he'd have dropped too much
taking last night?

Last night? What night hasn't he?

Ah, don't beat so hard on him.

Uh, Neelan sent round a note to me about
his bill.

He says we're going to have to sit with
him by the end of the week or we'll get

no more groceries.

I can't blame him.

But how we'll manage, I don't know.

There's the interest and the mortgage do
the first. But that I've saved, God be

thanked. If only you'd let me take
charge of the money.

I won't. You and himself would beat each
other's trots from dawn till dark. It's

bad enough between yous, it is. Well,
why didn't you pay the bill last week?

You told me you had the money put aside.

Well, so I did, but... Dickinson was
tormenting your father

with his fee bill for the mayor.

I might have known. The mayor comes
first if she takes the bread out of our

mouths. Don't you be talking like that.
He has great love for you, even though

you don't be provoking him all the time.
Great love for me?

I'd have God pity you, Mother.

And don't you be putting on the brogue
now.

You know how he hates to hear you.

And so do I. There's no excuse for you
not to cure yourself.

But didn't he send you to school so you
could talk like a gentleman's daughter?

He did, and I wasn't there long.

It was you who insisted on leaving.

Because if he hadn't the pride and love
for you not to live on, you're slaving

your heart out. I had that pride and
love.

I know, Cush. I know.

We can't afford a waitress, but he can
afford to keep a thoroughbred mare to

prance around on and show himself off.
And he can afford a barkeep.

And if he had any decency, he'd do his
part and tend the bar himself.

Him? A gentleman?

Tend bar?

Gentleman?

Mother, it's all right for the two of
us, out of our own pride, to pretend to

the world that we believe that lie, but
it's crazy for you to pretend to me.

It's no lie.

He is the gentleman.

Mother, you can humor his craziness if
you want.

You'll never get me to pretend to him
that I don't know the truth.

Don't! Talk as if you hated him. You
ought to be ashamed.

I do hate him for the way he treats you.

I heard him again last night raking up
the past, blaming his ruin on his having

to marry you. That's right talking, not
him.

It's you ought to be ashamed for not
having more pride.

You keep slaving when it's that that's
made you old before your time.

Well, you can't do it much longer, I
tell you. He's getting worse. You'll

have to leave him.

I will not hold your pride.

You'd leave him today if you had any
pride.

I've pride in me love for him.

I've loved him since the first day I set
eyes on him, and I'll love him till the

day I die.

Little you know of love, and you never
will, for there's the same devil of

pride in you that's in him, and it'll
keep you from giving all of yourself,

and that's what love is. I could give
all of myself if I wanted to, but I...

If wanted to.

Fakes, that proves how little of love
you know when you prate about ifs and

wantos.

It's when you haven't a thought for all
the ifs and wantos in the world.

It's when if all the fires of hell was
burning between you, you'd go through

them gladly to be by his side.

And you'd sing with joy at your own
burning if only his kiss was on your

mouth.

That's love.

And I'm proud to have felt the great
sorrow and joy of it.

You're a strange woman, Mother.

And a grand one.

I love.

But I love where it'll gain me freedom
and not put me in slavery for life.

There's no slavery in it when you love.

Oh, for the love of God, Sarah, don't
take the pride of me love from me.

For without it, what am I at all but an
ugly woman, grown old and sick? Oh,

hush, Mother.

Don't mind me.

I have to go finish the bar book.

Mickey can't add two and two together
without making five.

I'm very devout, your father.

Father Flynn stopped me on the road
yesterday.

Told me I'd better warn him not to sneer
at the Irish around here and call them

scum or he's going to get himself into
trouble.

Most of them were in a rage at him
because he's come out against Andrew

Jackson and the Democrats and says he's
going to vote with the Yankees for

Quincy Adams.

At least they can't say a joke then.

It's a great joke to hear him shout
against mob rule like one of the Yankee

gentry. You know what he came from.

After the Yanks swindled him into
getting him to buy this place, telling

him a new coach line was going to stop
here.

Easiest fool ever came to America.

That I hold against him as much as
anything.

When he came here, the chance was before
him to make himself all his life

pretended to be.

He had education above most yanks and
money enough to start him.

This is a country where you can rise as
high as you like.

No one but the fools who envy you care
what you came from.

A bunch of the money and the power goes
with it.

Oh, if I was a man with the chance he
had, there wouldn't be a dream I'd not

make come true.

You're a fine one to talk to, Mother.

Wake up.

What's worrying you now?

Oh, Father Flynn told me again I was
going to be damned in hell for letting

your father make a heathen of me and
bring you up a heathen too.

Not to tell the good father we aren't
the ignorant shanty scum he's used to

dealing with.

There.

That's done.

Take a walk to the store and have a talk
with Neil and maybe I can blarney him

into giving us another month's credit.

Oh, you can.

Sure, you could charm a bird out of a
tree if you wanted to.

But I don't like you begging to a
Yankee. It's all right for me, but I

know how you hate it. Oh, I don't mind.

As long as it saves you a little of the
worry that's killing you.

I'll go change into my Sunday best to
make a good impression.

I'm thinking it's not on kneeling alone
you want to make an impression.

You changed your Sunday best of luck
lately.

Aren't you the sly one?

Well, maybe you're right. How was he
when you took him to breakfast?

Hungry. And that's a good sign.

He had no fever last night, all.

He's on the road to recovery.

It won't be long before he's back in his
cabin by the lake.

Look, I declare in my head what he's
been doing out there the past year,

living like a tramp or a tinker, and him
a rich gentleman's son. Oh, he's not

like his kind.

Or like anyone else, for that matter.
He's a born dreamer with a great raft of

dreams.

I told you before, he wanted to get away
from his father's business because he

didn't like being in trade.

Even if it is a great company that
trades with the whole world in its own

ship. That's the way a true gentleman
would feel. He wanted to prove his

independence by living alone in the wild
and build his own cabin and support

himself simply and live at one with
nature and think great thoughts about

what life means.

Write a book about how the world can be
changed so people will be able

to not be greedy and...

and live in peace together and freedom
and not want money.

I can't remember at all.

Seems crazy to me when I think what
people are like.

He hasn't written any of it anyway, only
the notes for it.

All he's written the last few months are
love poems.

Well, it's clear to me young Master
Harford has the touch of the poet in

him, same as your father.

Oh, Mother, God help you. Do you think
Father's a poet because he shows off

reciting Lord Byron?

No.

I'm safe to be down any moment.

But I can tell young Harford he's
falling in love with you.

Falling? He's falling head over heels.

But he's so timid he hasn't told me yet.
But I'll get him to soon.

And I know you're in love with him.

I am, Mother.

Not too much, though.

I won't let love make me any man's
slave.

I want to love him just enough to marry
him without cheating him, or myself.

For I'm going to marry him, Mother.

It's my chance to rise in the world, and
nothing will keep me from it. Moshe, but

you boastful talk.

What about his fine Yankee family? His
father likely cut him off without a

penny if he marries a girl who's poor
and Irish. He may at first, but...

Once I've proven what a good wife I'll
be.

Oh, he can't stop me from marrying
Simon, I know that.

It's only his mother I'm afraid of.

She's had great influence over him, I
can tell.

She must be a strange creature from all
he's told me. She never goes out at all,

but stays in her mansion reading books
all day, or in her garden.

Did you see a carriage stop here,
Mother, this morning? Oh, don't count

your chickens before they've hatched.

Young Harford seems a decent lad, but
maybe it's not marriage that he's up to.

Oh, well, I suppose you're bound to
suspect.

Forgive me, Mother, but it's wrong of
you to think badly of Simon.

Faith, if it came to seducing, it would
be me that would have to do it. Yeah.

It's only in his poems and in the diary
he keeps.

I had a peek at it one day when I was
over tidying up his cabin for him.

He's very ashamed of his sinful
inclination.

And of the insult they are to my purity.
Don't talk so bold.

I'm not sure it's good you to be in his
room so much. Even if he is sick.

There's a power of talk about the two of
you already.

Oh, let there be for all I care.

Or for all Simon cares either. When it
comes to not letting others rule him,

he's got a will of his own behind his
gentleness.

Just as behind his poetry and dreams.

I feel he has it in him to do anything
he wants.

So, even if his father cuts him off,
with me to help him, we'll get on in the

world, for I'm no fool either.

Glory be to God, you have a fine opinion
of yourself.

Haven't I, though?

Well, I'd need to have slaving as a
chambermaid and waitress so my father

can get drunk every night in the bar
like a gentleman.

Morning, Sarah.

Morning.

I'm going to get my dress on, Mother.

Good morning, Nora.

Good morning, Con.

I'll get you breakfast.

No.

I want nothing.

Thank you.

You look pale.

Come on,

sit down.

I'll wet a cloth with cold water. Put it
round your head. No, thank you. I want

nothing except a little piece in which
to read the news.

I'll leave him, Kate.

Oh, Kate, stop your tearing!

I was thinking maybe about who would
make you pick them. I told you once, I'm

not hungry.

Laura.

Well, maybe it's the hair of the dog
you're needing.

No, damn the liquor.

In my conscience, I've about made up my
mind I'll have no more of it.

Besides, it's a bit early in the day.
Well, it will give you an appetite.

To tell the truth, my stomach is out of
sorts. Perhaps the drop will become a

missile.

Oh, well, I know what you're thinking.
Why haven't you the courage to say it

for once?

For God, I'd have more respect for you.

I hate the damn meek of this earth.

At the Rock of Cashel, I sometimes
believe you've always deliberately

encouraged me to. It's the one point of
superiority you can lay claim to, isn't

it?

I don't. It's your comfort. I can't bear
it. Oh, forgive me, Nora. That was

unpardonable.

I confess I needed that as medicine.

I begin to feel more myself.

I'm by the immortal.

I may have sunk to keeping a tavern, but
at least I have a conscience in my

trade. I keep liquor a gentleman can
drink.

There shall he rot, ambition's
dishonored fool.

That was full of the latest swindling
lies of that idol of the riffraff,

Andrew Jackson.

Contemptible, drunken scoundrel.

But he'll be the next president, I
predict, for all we others can do to

prevent.

It's a cursed destiny in these decadent
times. Everywhere the cum rises to the

top.

The day of the 27th.

My God, I would have forgotten.

Forgot what?

The anniversary of Talavera.

Oh, ain't I stupid not to remember?

Oh, I would have forgotten myself.

And no wonder.

It's a far cry from this dunghill in
which I rot to that glorious day when

the Duke of Wellington, then Lord
Wellesley, did me the honor before all

the army to commend my bravery.

I'll cry indeed.

It would be better to forget.

No, no, you mustn't. You'll never miss
celebrating it, and you won't today.

I'll have a special dinner for you like
I've always had. Good, Nora.

I'll invite Jamie Cregan.

It's a stroke of fortune he's here. He
served under me at Talavera, as you

know. A brave soldier, if he isn't a
gentleman.

If I see him on my right hand, I will
have Pats Riley for music and Poudown

and Roche if they're rabble there, full
of droll humor at times.

But put them over there.

I tolerate their presence out of
charity, but I won't stoop to dining at

the same table with them. Get your
uniform out of the trunk and you'll wear

it tonight as you have each year. Yes.

I must confess I still welcome an excuse
to wear it.

Makes me feel at least the ghost of the
man I was then.

Sure, you were that handsome. No woman
could take her eyes off you and your

stare. I'm afraid you got blarney on
your tongue this morning, Nora.

But it's true in those days in Portugal
and Spain.

Ah.

You're the kindest heart in the world,
Nora.

And I... Oh, one can't, darling. When...
I'll go to the store. I'll get you

something tasty.

Oh, God, help me. Where's the money?

Money?

Since when has my credit not been good?
Don't you fret. I'll manage.

Work on the railroad is progressing at
Baltimore.

By the eternal, if I had not been a
credulous gull and let the thieving

Yankees swindle me of all I had when we
came here, that's how I would invest my

funds and we'd become rich.

This country with its immense territory
cannot depend solely on creeping canal

boats. We need railroads.

Then you'll see how quickly this country
will become rich and great.

Great enough to crush the English and
the next war between them, which I know

is inevitable.

I could live here and celebrate that
victory.

If I have one regret for the past, it is
that I shed my blood for a country that

thanked me with disgrace.

But I'll be avenged. This country, my
country now, will sweep the English from

the face of the earth. Glory be to God
for that, and we'll free Ireland.

Ireland.

What benefit would freedom be to her
that she could be freed from the Irish?

Oh, why do I bother to discuss such
things with you?

I know.

I'm ignorant.

And I tried my best to educate you after
we came to America.

But I thought it was hopeless.

Oh, you did surely, and I tried to. You
won't even cure yourself of that damn

peasant's brogue. And your daughter's
becoming as bad. Oh, if she only puts on

the brogue to please you, sure she can
talk as fine as any lady in the land

when she wants. Why, in God's name, do I
reproach anyone with anything?

Why don't you tell me to examine my own
conduct?

You know I never... No.

No, you would not, Nora.

I owe you an apology for what happened
last night. Oh, think about it. But you

understand it was the liquor talking if
I said anything to wound you. I know.

Ah, you're a sweet, kind woman, Nora.

Too kind.

Oh, come, darling.

What do I care what you say when the
black thoughts are on you?

Sure, don't you know I love you?

For God's sake, why don't you ever wash
your hair?

It turns my stomach with its stink of
onions and garlic.

Well, I do be washing it often to please
you.

But when you're standing over a stove
all day, you can't help it.

Forget what I said.

My nerves were on edge.

Maybe you'd better leave me alone.

Will you eat some breakfast now? Yes,
yes, in a while.

Fifteen minutes, say, but leave me alone
now.

still bear the unmistakable stamp of an
officer and a gentleman.

So I will remain to the end, spite of
all fate can do to crush my spirit.

I have not loved the world, nor the
world me.

I have not flattered its rank breath,
nor bowed to its idolatries a patient

knee, nor coined my cheek to smile, nor
cried aloud in worship of an echo.

In the crowd they could not deem me one
of such.

I stood among them, but not of them.

By the eternal, that expresses it. Thank
God for you, Lord Byron, poet and

nobleman, who made of your disdain
immortal music.

Oh,

it's you, my dear.

You going for a morning stroll?

I leave a beautiful day for it. It will
bring fresh roses to your cheeks.

Well, I don't know about your roses, but
it will bring a blush of shame to my

cheeks.

I have to beg Nealon for another month's
credit because you made poor mother pay

the feed bill for your fine,
thoroughbred mare.

I hope you see something in that mirror
you admire.

I suppose I must have looked a vain
peacock preening myself.

You can blame the bad light in my room.
One cannot make a decent toilet in that

dindry hole in the wall.

You have the best room in the house, the
one we ought to rent together.

I have no complaints. I was merely
explaining my seeming vanity.

Seeming?

Hey, Sarah.

Must have written the wrong side of the
bed this morning.

But it takes two to make a quarrel, and
I don't feel quarrelsome.

On the contrary, I was about to tell you
how exceedingly charming and pretty you

look. Oh, thank you, Your Honor.

Every day you resemble your mother more
as she looked when I first saw her. Oh,

Moshe, but it's you who have the blind
end. Oh, God, forgive you. Be quiet,

damn you. How dare you talk like a
common ignorant?

You're my daughter, damn you.

A fair hit.

You're a great tease, aren't you, sir?

and drink. Surely you're not ashamed
before me after all these years.

Ashamed? A gentleman drinks as he
pleases.

A gentleman?

I hesitated because I've made a good
resolve to be abstemious today.

But if you insist, my dear.

To your happiness.

Won't you do me the favor to sit down?

I wanted a quiet chat with you for some
time.

What is it you want?

Your happiness, my dear.

How is our patient, young Simon Harford,
this morning?

He's fine. Better. I'm delighted to hear
it.

Let's be frank.

Young Simon is in love with you. I can
see that with half an eye.

And of course you know it.

You return his love, I surmise?

Surmise whatever you please.

Meaning you do love him?

I'm glad, Sarah.

Requited love is the greatest blessing
life can bestow on us poor mortals.

And first love is the most blessed of
all.

As Lord Byron has it, sweeter than this
and these and all is first and

passionate love. It stands alone like...
Adam's recollection of his fall. I

wanted to listen to you recite Lord
Byron, but I... No, no, no, no, no. What

I was leading up to is that you have my
blessing.

If that means anything at all to you.

Young Simon is, I believe, estimable
youth.

It's been a privilege to converse with a
cultured gentleman again.

True, he's a bit on the sober side for
one so young, but by way of

compensation, there's a romantic touch
of the poet about him. Behind that

Yankee phlegm. It's fine you approve of
him.

In your interest, I have had some
inquiries made about his family.

Oh, have you indeed?

Oh, mushy, but that's cute of you.

Was it old Pat Riley the piper that made
them, or Dan Roche, or Paddy O'Dowd, or

some other drunken sponge?

I find his people will pass muster. Oh,
do you? That's nice. Apparently the

father is a gentleman.

That is by Yankee standards, insofar as
one in trade can lay claim to that

title. But if I had become an American
citizen myself, I suppose it would be

downright snobbery of me to hold to old
world standards.

Though it is difficult at times for my
pride to remember that I am no longer

the master of Melody Castle, an estate
of 3,000 acres of the finest pasture and

woodlands to be found in the whole of
the United Kingdom.

My stable of hunters. Well, you've a
beautiful thoroughbred mare now to prove

you're still a gentleman. Yes, I'm the
mare. And by God, I'll keep her if I

have to starve myself so she may eat.

But where was I?

Ah, yes, yes.

It's about young Simon's family.

The...

Father will pass muster, but I believe
it's through his mother that he comes by

his really good blood. My understanding
is that she springs from generations of

well-bred gentlefolk. Well, I'm sure it
would be a great pride to her to know

that you found her suitable.

I suppose I may expect the young man to
request an interview with me as soon as

he's up and about again?

To declare his honorable intention and
ask for my hand. Is that what you mean?

Yes, naturally. He's a man of honor.

There are certain financial arrangements
his father or his legal representative

will want to discuss with me. There's
the amount of your settlement.

My settlement?

Oh, famous father.

Oh, God help me. Yes, naturally, your
settlement.

You didn't think I hoped I would give
you away without a penny, like a poverty

-stricken peasant's daughter.

Please remember, I have my own position
to maintain.

Of course, it is a bit difficult at the
moment.

I thought perhaps mortgage on the inn.
It's mortgage to the hilt already, as

you very well know.

If nothing else, I can always give my
note at hand for whatever amount is

necessary. Sure, you can give it, but
who'll take it? Between gentlemen, these

things are always possible.

Oh, God help you.

Must be a wonderful thing to live in a
fairy tale where only dreams are real to

you.

You needn't waste your dreams worrying
about my affairs.

I'll thank you not to interfere. Attend
to your drinking and leave me alone.

Father, will you not let yourself wake
up, not even now when you're sober or

nearly?

Is it stark mad you've gone that you
don't know what's dead and a lie and

what's the living truth?

Sarah, be quiet, damn you. How dare you
talk to me that way?

I said it's Andy Jackson with you and
you're crazy.

And I'll just take your damn...

Good morning, Your Honor. How dare you
come in here in this manner?

You mistake this inn for the sort of
dirty chabine you were used to in the

old world with pigs running in and out
the door?

And you, Dan, didn't I forbid you ever
to mention that scoundrel Jackson's name

in my inn or I'd horsewhip the hide off
you? Perhaps you think I can't carry out

that... No, no, no, no, Major. I forgot.
I forgot.

Good morning, Miss. Good morning, Miss.

Where's your witch, Patch?

Did you hear it, Honor?

Sure, it's you. God bless you.

Looks like a fairy princess as beautiful
as a rose in the morning dew.

I'll raise a tune for you. I want none
of your tunes.

That's very sweet of you, Patch. I know
you'd raise a beautiful tune, but I have

to go out. Into the bar, all of you,
where I belong.

I told you not to come in here.

I suppose it's a free drink hereafter.

No one can say I ever turned away anyone
thirsty from my door, I knew.

Oh, I thank your honor.

Now, now, come on, then. Come along,
Patch.

Containers of your American estate.

Don't let me keep you from the
gentlemen.

Sarah. Have I kept you waiting?

The jibber was in the toast. The first
batch burned black as cake, so my back

was turned.

But the bacon's crisp, and the eggs not
too soft, just the way you like them.

Come sit down now.

Mickey won't believe you said we could
have a drink, Your Honor, unless you

come and tell him so.

I'm coming. Oh, come on. I'm coming.

Find I'm not in the least hungry, Nora.

I regret having caused you so much
trouble.

What are you talking about? For Christ's
sake!

Rolling up, rolling!

I used to be alone for a while, quiet
with my memories.

Corporal Began returns, Vicki. Send him
in to me. Right, Major.

He at least knows Talavera isn't the
name of a new brand of whiskey.

What is it, Father? Are you really sick?

Oh, I beg your pardon, my dear.

Didn't hear you come in.

Faith, I was far away in spirit.

Lost to memories of a glorious battle in
Spain 19 years ago today.

Oh, the anniversary of Talavera, is it?

Well, I know what that means. A great
day for the spongers and a bad day for

this inn.

I suppose you've given poor Mother
orders, as usual, to cook a grand feast

for you.

And you'll wear your beautiful uniform,
and I'll have the honor of waiting on

table.

Well, I'll do it just this once.

Or else Mother would have to, but it'll
be the last time.

You'll be pleased to know your daughter
had almost to beg on her knees before

Neelan, before he'd give us another
month's credit.

He let it be known that it was to Mother
he gave it, because he pities her for

the husband she's got.

Here's the milk the doctor ordered for
the young gentleman. It's time for it. I

knew you'd be going upstairs.

Thank you, Mother.

I've just been telling him. I begged
another month's credit from Nealon, so

he needn't worry. My dear, turn the feed
refuse.

Let me detain you, my dear. Take his
milk to our Yankee guests, as your

mother suggests.

The poor young devil hasn't a chance of
you two scheming peasants laying traps

to snare him. That's a lie, and leave
Mother out of your insult.

And if all other tricks fail, there's
always one last trick to get him through

his honour.

What trick do you mean? Hold your
freight now.

It's your fault for provoking him.

All right, Mother.

I'll leave him to look in the mirror
like he loves to and remember what he

said and be proud of himself.

I, uh... She may have dropped my
meaning.

It's as you say, she should... She goads
me into losing my temper and I say

things. I know what made you say it. You
think maybe she's like I was and you

can't help remembering my time with you.
No, no, no. I tell you she mistook my

meaning. And now you damn, you're
creating about your sin, your shame.

There was no shame in you then.

You were the prettiest girl in all
Ireland.

It was love and joy.

There's glory in you then, and you were
proud.

I'm proud still, and I will be till the
day I die.

Now, why do you bring up the past? I
don't want to discuss it.

Well, all the same, you shouldn't talk
to Sarah as if you thought she was up to

anything to catch young Harper. I didn't
say that.

She's my daughter. She is, surely, and
he's a decent lad.

Sure, from all she's told me.

He's that shy.

He hasn't dared even to kiss her hand.

I can well believe it.

When it comes to lovemaking, the Yankees
are clumsy, fish-blooded louts.

I was his age.

Not that I disapprove of young Hartford,
mind you. He's a gentleman. When he asks

me for Sarah's hand, I'll gladly give my
consent.

Provided his father and I can agree on
the terms of his settlement.

Oh, there's no need to think of that
yet.

Yes, she'll be happy because she loves
him dearly, a lot more than she'll

admit.

And it'll give her a chance to rise in
the world.

Oh, we'll live to see the day when
she'll live in a grand mansion, wearing

silks and satins and riding in a
carriage with a coachman on her foot. I

desire that as much as you do, Nora.

I'm done, finished.

No future but the past. But my daughter
has the...

Looks, the brains, ambition, youth.

She can go far.

You should just remember she's a
gentlewoman. Stop acting like a bog

-trotting peasant wench.

Ah,

I'm back.

The sight of me seems to irritate her.
I'll go in the bar for a while.

Let my fill of her insults for one
morning.

And say, went into the bar to be out of
reaching your tongue.

Aren't you ashamed you haven't fed him
enough not to torment him when you know

it's the anniversary?

All right, Mother.

Let him take whatever joy he can out of
the day.

I'll even help you get his uniform out
of the trunk and brush it and clean it

for you. Oh, God bless you.

That's the... Glory be, you've changed
all of a sudden.

What's come over you?

Simon kissed me. Oh, oh, oh.

But it was me who made him do it.

I was freshening up his pillows and
leaning over him and he couldn't help it

if he was human.

And then you'd have laughed to see him.

He began apologising as if I'd be so
insulted I'd never speak to him again.

And what did you do? I'll wade your
warts as bright as you pretend.

True, Mother.

He made me as bashful as he was.

What is that all?

Sure, kissing is easy.

Didn't he ask you if you'd marry?

No.

But it was my fault he didn't.

All he needed was a word of
encouragement. But I stood there, dumb

as a calf.

And the end was I ran from the room,
blushing as red as a beet.

Oh, Mother, ain't it crazy to be such a
fool? Well, when you're in love, that's

just it.

I'm too much in love, and I don't want
to be.

I won't let my heart rule my head, make
a slave of me.

Oh. Well, he loves me as much, I know
that, and more.

And the next time I'll keep my wits
about me.

You can consider it as good as done,
Mother.

I'm Mrs.

Simon Harford, at your pleasure. Ah,
none of your airs and graces with me.

Come on now, help me like you promised.

We'll get your father's uniform out of
the trunk.

Oh, won't break your back in the attic
like it does mine. All right, come along

then. I don't remember which trunk, and
you're going to have to help me find the

key.

Cursed, ignorant cattle.

I wish Jamie Cregan would come.

Driven pillars of post in my own home.

Everywhere ignorant, a corn of my own
daughter.

But by the eternal God, no power on
earth nor in hell itself will ever break

me.

I have not loved the world nor the world
me.

I have not flattered its rank breast nor
bowed to its idolatry, a patient knee.

nor coined my cheek to smile, nor cried
aloud in worship of an echo.

In a crowd they could not deem me one of
such. I stood among them, but not of

them.

I beg your pardon.

Good morning, mademoiselle.

If I may presume.

I find it comfortable away from the
glare of the street.

Thank you. Mademoiselle.

Pray forgive me, I see it is Madame.

Permit me to say again how great an
honour I shall esteem it to be of any

service.

I beg your pardon, Madame.

I'm afraid my manners have grown roughly
with diffuse, and it's not often a lady

comes here now.

This inn, like myself, has fallen upon
unlucky days.

You are, I presume, the innkeeper,
Melody. I am Major Cornelius Melody, one

time of His Majesty's Seventh Dragoons,
at your service.

Well, then it is I who owe you an
apology, Major Melody. Oh, no, no, no,

no, dear lady. The fault is mine. I
should not have taken offence.

I may as well confess that my besetting
weakness is that of all gentlemen who

have known better days.

I have a pride unduly sensitive to any
fancied slight.

Well, I assure you, sir, there was no
intention on my part to slight you.

You're as gracious as you are beautiful,
madame.

I'm a poor fool, madame.

I would be both wiser and happier if I
could reconcile myself to being a

proprietor of a tawdry tavern.

If I could abjure pride and forget the
past.

Today, of all days, it is difficult to
forget, for it is the anniversary of the

Battle of Talavera.

It was on that glorious day that I had
the honor to be commended for my bravery

by the great Duke of Wellington himself.

So I'm sure you can find it in your
heart to forgive one so.

Beautiful. Must understand the hearts of
men full well, since so many must have

given their hearts to you.

Ah, yes.

I'll wager my all against a penny that
even among the fish-blooded Yankees

there's not a man whose heart doesn't
catch flame from your beauty, as mine

does now.

You're drunk, sir.

You reek of whiskey.

You are both insolent and disgusting. I
don't wonder your inn enjoys such meagre

patronage if you regale all of your
guests with my sex with this absurd

performance.

God help us. What is it, Father?

What does the lady wish?

I've come here to see you, Miss Melody,
hoping you might have some information

about the whereabouts of my son.

Son, you are his mother? Madam, with
God's name, why didn't you say so? I've

been to the cabin to find the hermit
who's flown.

He's here, Mrs. Harford.

He's been sick.

Sick? Well, not seriously. Oh, he's over
it now, or almost.

It was only a spell of chills and fever
he caught from the damp of the lake.

I had him come here where there's a
doctor handy and someone to nurse him.

That someone being you, Miss Mallory?
Yes, me and my mother and I.

Well. I'm very grateful to you and to
your mother for your kindness. Oh, don't

you be thanking us, ma'am. Sure, your
son is a fine, decent lad, and we've all

great fondness for him. Oh, he'd be
welcome here if he hadn't paid a penny.

This is my mother, Mrs. Harford. Well,
how do you do?

Nora, for the love of God, stop it. I'm
sure Mrs. Harford is willing to be taken

to her son. Am I not right, mother? That
is true.

If you would be so kind, Miss Melody,
I've only time for a very short visit.

Please follow me, Mrs. Harford.

What a pleasant surprise for Simon.

He didn't pretend he was sick, only he
didn't want to worry you.

Damn fool of a woman.

But she didn't fool me with her insulted
airs. I've known too many women.

Absurd performance, was it? Goddamn her.
Don't be coarse in her and tormenting

yourself. Sure, she seems a kind lady.

She won't hurl it against you. Once she
stops to think, no, you didn't know who

she was. Be quiet.

Forget it now, do you?

For Sarah's sake.

Sure you wouldn't want anything to come
between her and the lad.

You can go on up to your room.

You'll find something to take your mind
off.

Sarah and I have your uniform brushed
and laid out on the... Put it back in

the trunk. I don't want it to remind me.

By the eternal I'll wager she believed
what I told her of Talavera and the

great duke honoring me was a drunken
liar's boast.

She never can. She couldn't.

Seeing would be believing, wouldn't it,
my fine lady?

Thank you for reminding me of my duties
to Sarah. You are right. I owe it to her

interest to forget my anger and make a
formal apology to Diamond's mother for

our little misunderstanding.

The lady should come back. Kindly keep
her here on some pretense till I come

back.

Oh, well.

That's all right.

He'd have been his best behaviour now.

And you'd feel proud to get in his
uniform.

What's the father doing?

Oh, we got him to go upstairs and try on
his uniform. It'll console him.

Console him?

It's me ought to be consoled for having
such a great fall for a father. Yes, no.

How could he know?

Yes.

Serves her right.

And she didn't act as insulted as she
might.

Maybe she liked it for all her
pretenses.

As crazy as he is, him and his drunken
lovemaking, well, he won't forget in a

hurry how she snubbed him and treated
him as if he was no better than dirt

under her feet. She did not.

She had the sense to see that he'd been
drinking and not to mind him.

Maybe.

But isn't that bad enough?

What woman would want her son to marry
the daughter of a man like... Oh,

Mother.

Why did she have to come today?

If she'd waited till tomorrow even, I'd
have got him to ask me to marry him.

Once he's done that, no power on earth
can stop him.

If he really loves you, no power on
earth can change him anyway.

Don't I know?

She's his mother, and she loves him.

And she'll want him to be happy, and
she'll see that he loves you.

What makes you think she'll try to
change him?

Because she hates me, Mother, for one
reason. She doesn't. She couldn't. She

does. Oh, she acted as nice as nice, but
she didn't fool me.

It isn't just to see Simon that she's
come here.

It's because Simon's father got a letter
from him. Someone telling him.

About us, and he showed it to her. Oh,
did a dirty trick like that.

It wasn't signed, she said.

I suppose someone around here who hates
father and who doesn't. I'd look to the

black art whoever it is.

She said Simon's father's wild with
anger and he's gone to his lawyer.

But that doesn't worry me.

It's only her influence that I'm afraid
of.

How do you know about the letter?

I sneaked back to the door and listened
outside.

Shame on you. You should have more
pride.

I was ashamed, Mother, after a moment or
two, and then I came away.

No, I'm not ashamed.

I wanted to learn what tricks she might
be up to, so I'll know how to fight

them.

Don't look for trouble before it comes.

Wait and see now. Maybe you'll find it.
I'll find what I said, Mother, that she

hates me.

Even if she'd come here with good
intentions.

She wouldn't have them now after our
great gentleman has insulted her.

Thank God he's putting on his uniform.

He'll be hours before the mirror and
she'll be gone before he can make a fool

of himself again.

But I'd like her to see him in his
uniform if he were sober.

She'll find she couldn't look down on
him.

I'm as crazy as he is.

As if she wouldn't have the brains to
see through him.

Leave him be for the love of God. Well,
let her try whatever game she likes.

She'll find I have brains too. Only,
like Simon says, I feel she's strange

and queer behind her ladylike airs. And
it'll be hard to know what she's really

up to.

That's her now.

She didn't waste much time.

Go into the kitchen, Mother.

I want to give her a chance to have it
out with me alone.

Didn't you hear me, Mother?

Hurry!

Well, I'm glad to see you again, Miss
Melody.

It gives me another opportunity to
express my gratitude.

For your kindness to my son.

Thank you, Mrs. Harford.

My mother and I have been only too happy
to do what we could.

We're very fond of Simon. Yes.

Yes, I believe you are.

And Simon's told me how fond he is of
you.

This is the first time I've seen Simon
since he left home to seek self

-emancipation at the breast of nature.

I find him not so greatly changed as his
letters have led me to believe.

I would have thought the discovery that
the poetry he hoped the freedom of

nature would inspire him to write is
after all but a bad imitation of Lord

Byron's would have more bitterly
depressed his spirit.

But it seems he found a new romantic
dream by way of recompense, as I might

have known he would.

Simon is an inveterate dreamer.

It's a quality he inherited from me, I'm
afraid.

Although the Harfords have been great
dreamers, too, in their way.

Even my husband has a dream.

Oh, it's a conservative material dream,
naturally.

I've just been reminding Simon that
his... father is rigidly unforgiving

when his dream is flouted.

And very practical in his methods of
defending it. I don't think Simon

imitates Lord Byron.

I hate Lord Byron's poetry.

And I think there's a true poet in
Simon.

Oh, in feeling, of course.

It's only natural that you should admire
that in him now.

But I warn you, it's a quality very
difficult for a woman to go on admiring

in a Harford, judging from what I know
of the family history.

Simon's grandfather had the same
quality, a fanatic in the cause of

freedom.

He went to France and became a rabid
Jacobin, a follower of Robespierre.

He would have liked to have gone to the
guillotine with his incorruptible

redeemer, but he was just too
unimportant.

They simply forgot to kill him.

I remember him very well.

A cruel, gentle, futile old idealist who
used to often dress in his old uniform

of the French Republican National Guard.

He died wearing it.

But the point is, you see, you have no
idea of the revengeful

hate this harford passion for freedom
has imposed upon the women who've shared

their lives.

Simon's great aunts, the sisters, as
everyone called them, were actually

driven to make a large fortune in the
slave trade.

It's a sort of triumphant climax, I
imagine, of their long battle to escape

the enslavement of freedom by enslaving
it themselves.

I'm sorry they're dead and can't know
you.

They would approve of you, I think.

They would see that you are young and
ambitious and determined to take

what you want.

They would have smiled like hungry
serpents and welcomed you into their

coils.

Evil old witches.

Quite detestable.

But I... I couldn't help admiring them.

Pitying them, too, in the end.

You see, we had a bond in common.

They idolized Napoleon.

And I used to dream that I was
Josephine.

Even after my marriage, I'm afraid.

I've always admired him, too.

It's one of the things I've held against
my father, that he fought against him

and not for him. Well, Miss Melody, it's
very tiresome of me to stand here giving

you a discourse on Harford family
history.

But no doubt Simon has told you I am a
little eccentric at times.

I really don't know what's inspired me,
except that I wish to be fair and warn

you.

Warn me about what, Mrs. Harford?

Why, that the Harfords never part with
their dreams, even when they deny them.

They cannot.

That's the family curse.

Well...

I began to resemble Cassandra with all
my warnings, and I continued to stand

here boring you with words.

Goodbye, Miss Melody.

Goodbye, Mrs. Harford.

Oh, Mrs. Harford, I... Yes, Miss Melody.

Isn't there some sort of cooling drink I
can get you?

You must be parched after your long walk
in the woods. No.

No, thank you.

Yes, I did find my walk in the woods a
strangely overpowering experience.

I shall never venture forth again to do
my duty.

A noble occupation, no doubt, for those
who can presume to know what their duty

to others is.

This time I really am going.

God forgive you, sir, for letting her
go.

Your father told me. Oh, she hates me.

I can feel it, but you can't tell.

She's crazy, I think.

She may be daft, but she's no fool.

Oh, no.

I know she never let Simon guess she'd
rather have him dead than married to me.

No, she'd... she'd say... she'd say he
ought to wait to prove he's sure,

anything to give her time.

I'm said to be down any moment.

I'm going out into the garden. Oh, come
along with me.

Give him a chance to get over his rage.
Leave me alone, Mother.

I have to plan the best way to act when
I see Simon.

I won't go to him again today.

You can take his meals and his milk to
him if you will, Mother.

I want him to be anxious and afraid that
maybe he's done something wrong.

If he once gets the idea that maybe he's
lost me, that ought to help, don't you

think, Mother?

Oh, God, help me.

happened to go to my room and I found
your mother and you had laid out my

uniform so invitingly I couldn't resist
the temptation to put it on at once

instead of waiting till tonight.

I see you did.

You look grand and handsome, Father.

It's very kind of you to say that, my
dear Sarah.

I flatter myself I don't look too unlike
the man I was when I wore this uniform

with honor.

Father, why can't you ever be the thing
you seem to be? The man you were.

I wish I knew that soldier.

I think he was the only man who wasn't
just a dream.

I don't understand you.

I suspect you're still holding against
me my unfortunate blunder with your

future mother-in-law.

I did put my foot into it, didn't I?

Devil of it is, I can never make up
these Yankee ladies.

Do them the honor of complimenting them
with a... Harmless bit of flattery, and

lo and behold, suddenly the lady behaves
as if I'd insulted her.

But what I wanted to tell you was, I'm
sorry it happened, Sarah, and I shall do

my best to make an honorable amends for
the sake of your interests.

I shall do the lady the honor of
tendering her my humble apologies when

she comes downstairs.

You'll get no chance to make bad worse
by trying to fascinate her with your

beautiful uniform.

She's gone.

You're lying, damn you. I'm not. She's
been gone ten minutes or more.

I told you, Mother.

Oh, that's why Mother was so frightened.

Well, I was the one who let her go, so
you needn't take your rage out on poor

Mother. Rage?

My dear Sarah, all I feel is relief.

Surely you can't believe that I could
have looked forward to humbling my

pride, even though it would have
furthered your interest.

Furthered my interest by giving her
another chance to laugh up her sleeve at

your pretenses?

Ara, God pity you.

Here's Cregan back to see you, Major.

Cregan?

Oh, Jamie.

My old comrade in arms.

By the powers, I'm glad to see you,
Jamie. Come on in. You'll join me in a

drink? I know.

Be gone, it's the old uniform, Norris.

And just look as fine a figure in it as
ever you did in Spain.

Hardly, Jamie.

Not a total ruin yet, I hope.

Put it on in honour of the day.

Shame you dog not to remember Talavera.

Talavera? Where I got my shaver cut, be
the mortal, I remember that.

And you have a cause to celebrate.

You was worth only ten men in the army
that day. You think I may say I did

acquit myself with honour?

So for that matter, did you?

To the day and your good health,
Corporal Cregan. To the day and

yourself. God bless you, Con.

I said to the day and your good health,
Corporal Cregan.

Oh, thank God.

As you can beat the world and never let
it change you.

To the day and yourself.

Major Melody.

Drink hearty, Corporal.

Now here, here is the river Tagus.

And here, Palavera.

This one, on the rise of ground with the
plane, between our lines and theirs.

And over here, in the little valley to
our left, is our brigade.

Do you remember it, your corporal?
Remember it? I see it as clear as

yesterday.

That's enough of your loud blathering.
We can't hear each other. Oh, quiet it

is, Major. Be quiet, Potch. Now, where
was I? Oh, yes, yes.

We were waiting in the valley, and we
heard a French trumpet. from behind the

line, and we saw them forming for the
attack.

Never forget the blast of death from the
French squares.

I'll have your plate of your plays,
Major, before your gallant dragoons

charge over it and break it.

Wet your lip, Corporal.

W-30, Talavera, as you remember.

It was that.

That's good wine, good wine, Corporal,
good wine. Thank God I still have wine

in my cellar fit for a gentleman.

Are you going to let me have your plate?
Oh, no, no, no. I have no need to

apologize for the wine or for the
dinner, for that matter. But I do owe

you an apology for the quality of the
service.

I'll try to teach the waitress not to
snap plates from the table as if she

were feeding dogs in a kennel, but she
cannot learn. There, now.

Let's see you take it properly.

It was where the French artillery opened
up on us, Major.

Yes.

We charged a column here that was
pushing back the guards.

I'll never forget the blast of death.

Never forget that blast of death from
the French guards.

You escaped with only a bullet through
your coat.

I have this token on me cheek to
remember a French sabre. Brave days,

corporal brave days. By the eternal then
one lived.

Then one forgot.

Little did I dream then the disgrace
that was to be my reward later on. Oh,

well, that's the bad luck of things.

You'd have been made colonel soon if
you'd left that Spanish woman alone and

not fought that duel.

You're presuming to judge my conduct in
that affair?

Sorry, I bet not. Don't mind me now.

Except what your apology go for.

He's a lunatic, though. I mean, standing
there in his red coat like a play actor

lying about his battles with the French.

He ought to be ashamed he ever wore the
bloody red of England. God's curse on

him, anyway. Don't wish him harm, for
it's thirsty we'd be without him.

Drink long life to him, and may he
always be the fool he is tonight.

I'll toast him on that.

A toast to you, Major.

To the finest gentleman that ever came
from the shores of Ireland.

Long life to you, Major.

For all.

Long life to your honour.

And to all that belong to you. Long life
to you, Major.

Thank you for your toast.

shock of men to hear to see to feel and
to possess

roam along the world's tired denizen of
none who bless us none whom we can

bless minions of splendor shrinking from
distress none

that with kindred consciousness endued
if we were not would seem to smile the

less of all that flattered, followed,
sought, and sued.

This is to be alone.

This, this is solitude.

Not that you don't understand me, lads.

Well, all the better for you.

So you may go on fooling yourselves that
I am fooling you.

Give us a hunting song, Pats. You've not
forgotten Motherina Roo, I'll be bound.

Does the duck forget water? I'll show
ye.

I hate Motherina Roo. Motherina Roo.

Boy.

Oh, the fox sat him down and looked
about.

Many were feared to follow.

Maybe I'm wrong to see, but I doubt that
you'll be as gay tomorrow.

For loud as you cry and high as you
ride, just a little yell will heal my

sorrow. I'll be free on the mountainside
when you lie low to me.

Mother in a row, mother in a row, mother
in a row, mother in a row, mother in a

row, mother in a row, mother in a row,
mother in a row, mother in a row, mother

in a row, mother in a row, mother in a
row, mother in a row, mother in a row,

mother in a row, mother in a row, mother
in a row, mother in a row, mother in a

row, mother in a row, mother in a row,
mother in a row,

and a true Irish hunter under me that
knows and loves me and would raise to a

jump over hell if I gave the word.

The hell with men, I say. Give me a
horse to love and I'll cry quits to men.

And then away with the hounds in full
cry and after them, off with devil a

care for your neck over ditches and
streams and stone walls and fences, the

fox doubling up the mountain sides of
the falls and the heather.

Well, what is it? What do you want? What
are you waiting for?

What would I be waiting for but for you
to finish your blather about loving

horses and give me a chance to get on
with my work?

Can you and the other gentleman finish
getting drunk in the bar and leave me to

clear the dishes?

No, Sarah, be easy.

I beg your pardon, my dear, if I have
interfered with your duties.

Into the bar, you louts.

Right. Come on. Come on.

Wake up. Go along, Copper Creek, and
I'll join you later.

I won't. I have no time for a mother
who's half dead in her feet.

I want to help her.

Won't fit the time, my dear.

You never dared face the truth about
yourself.

You'd hate and despise yourself.

All I pray to God is that one day when
you're admiring yourself in the mirror,

something will make you see what you
really are.

Sit down, my dear. I won't detain you
long.

I think you'll find what I have to tell
you a very great interest.

You better think well before you speak,
Father.

I know well the devil that's in you when
you're quiet like this and your brain

mad with drink.

And what you mean by that?

All I wish is to relate something that
happened this afternoon.

Oh, when you were out riding your
beautiful thoroughbred mare, sure.

Hope you didn't jump your proud beauty
over a fence into somebody's garden like

you've done before.

Damn Yankee yokels.

should feel flattered that she deigns to
set her dainty hooves in their paltry

gardens. She's a truer, born-well-bred
lady than any other airwomen, and the

one who paid us a visit this morning,
for example. Mrs. Harford was enough of

a lady to make a fool out of you and put
you in your place. You are very simple

-minded, my dear, to let yourself be
taken in by such an obvious bit of

clever acting.

Naturally, the lady was a bit
discomposed when she heard you and your

mother coming after she just allowed me
to kiss her.

So she had to pretend, of course. He let
you kiss her.

It's a lie.

But I don't doubt you've made yourself
believe it's the truth. I'm going.

Why are you so jealous of the mayor, I
wonder?

Is it because of his slender ankles and
dainty feet?

Keep your ugly, rich, filthy peasant
paws off the table in my presence, if

you please. They turn my stomach.

I advise you never to let Simon Harper
get a good look at them.

Oh, devil!

I knew you... Oh, God, I'm sorry, Sarah.
I didn't mean that. It was the whiskey

talking. I'm sorry.

Are you going, my dear? I was about to
tell you of the talk I had with young

Harford this afternoon.

It was after I returned for my ride.

I cantered the mare by the river, but
she pulled up lame, so I dismounted and

led her back.

No one noticed when I returned.

When I went upstairs, it occurred to me
I would not again find such an

opportunity to have a frank chat with
young Harford, free from interruption.

I didn't beat about the bush. I told
him.

He must appreciate it was my duty as a
gentleman and as your father to demand

that he lay his cards on the table.

He said he must realize that even before
you began nursing him here and going

alone to his bedroom, there was a deal
of gossip about your visits in his cabin

and your walks through the woods with
him.

I put it to him that such an intimacy
could not continue without gravely

compromising your reputation.

God help you.

What did he say?

What could he say? He's a man of honor.

He looked damn embarrassed and guilty
for a minute.

When he found his tongue, he admitted
that I was right most partly.

He said his mother had told him the same
thing.

Oh, did she?

Well, I suppose she did that to find out
by watching him how far he... Well,

naturally.

It was his mother. It was her duty as
his mother to discover all she could

about you.

She's the woman of the world. She was
bound to suspect you might be his

mistress. Oh, would she? Now, now,
that's beside the point.

The point is...

My bashful young gentleman finally
blurted out that he wanted to marry

you.

He told you that? Yes, yes.

He said he told his mother, too.

She had said all she wanted was his
happiness.

She felt in fairness to you and to
himself he should test his love by

letting a decent interval of time elapse
before the marriage she mentioned a

year, I believe.

Oh, didn't I think that would be her
trick?

Trick?

Mother, the reason she gave a sound,
they show a consideration for your good

name. She warned him a sudden wedding
would look damnably suspicious, start a

lot of evil-minded gossip.

She's clever, all right, but I'll beat
her.

I told him I agreed with his mother.

Tell me this.

Did she get him to promise her he'd
wait?

I told him I appreciated the honor he
did me by asking for your hand, but I

could not commit myself till I had
spoken to his father and was assured the

necessary financial arrangements could
be concluded to our mutual satisfaction

as the amount of your settlement to be
agreed upon, for example. Dream again.

I suppose it never occurred to you that
old Harford might not consider it an

honour to have his son marry your
daughter.

No, it has never occurred to me.

And if it had ever occurred to him, I'd
damn soon disabuse his mind. Who is he

but a money-grubbing trader?

I would remind him that I was born in a
castle. There was a time when I

possessed wealth and position and an
estate compared to which any Yankee

upstarts home in this country is a hovel
stuck up in a cabbage patch. I'd remind

him that you, my daughter, were born in
a castle.

Well, that's no more than the truth.

Yeah.

Oh, what crazy blather. I've had enough
of your... Wait a minute. Just a minute.

There was another reason why I told
Hofford I couldn't make a final

decision.

Well, I have been reflecting.

I've been watching you, examining your
conduct, without prejudice to you,

trying to be fair to you. Well, to be
brutally frank with you, my dear, all I

can see in you is a common, greedy,
scheming, cunning little peasant wench

who's only thought his money and who has
shamelessly thrown himself at a young

man's head because his family happens to
possess a little wealth and position.

It's a lie.

I have about made up my mind to decline
for you, Simon Hartford.

Request for your hand. Oh, you have,
have you?

As if I cared a damn what you... As a
gentleman, I feel I have a duty and

honor to Simon.

Such a marriage would be a tragic
misalliance for him, and God knows I

know the sordid tragedy of such a union.

It's Mother that's had the tragedy. The
man who would be the ideal husband for

you from the standpoint of conduct and
character would be Mickey Malloy, my

bartender, and I would be very happy to
give him my parental blessing. Let you

stop now, Father. You and he would be
congenial together. You can match

tongues, you and he.

He's a healthy animal. He'll give you a
raft of peasant brats to squeal and

fight with on the pigs and the dirty
hovel of the floor. It's the hut in

which your father was raised and born
you're remembering, isn't it? Of course.

If you trick Harper into getting you
with child, I couldn't refuse my

consent. Oh, my God, even then.

If I remember my own experience, I'll be
damned if I could advise you to... You

drunken devil!

Well, I want to thank you for your kind,
fatherly advice on how to trick Simon.

I don't think I'll need it, but if the
worst ever comes to the worst, I promise

you I'll remember that my... That's all
I care to say to you.

Excuse me, I will join Corporal Cregan.

Sarah, there are things I said which I
regret even now.

That's what you can overlook.

Your mother knows it's the liquor
talking, not...

I must confess that owing to celebrating
the anniversary, my brains are somewhat

addled.

To the bitter end.

No weakening, so help me, God.

I have not loved the world, nor the
world me.

I have not flattered its rank breath,
nor bowed to its idolatry as a patient

knee. Come in, dammit!

When I called, I thought it was one of
the damn rip-raps mistaking a bar and

bar. Pray be seated, sir.

Pardon again, sir.

We've been feasting late, which accounts
for the disarray. I will summon a

servant to apply your pleasure. Thank
you, but I want nothing, sir.

I came here to seek a private interview
with the proprietor of this tavern by

name Melody.

Are you by any chance he? No, I am not.

You wish to see Major Cornelius Melody,
one time of his majesty's seventh

dragoons, who served with honor under
the Duke of Wellington in Spain? I am

he. Very well, sir.

Major Melody. Who will I be honor of
addressing?

Pretty young woman.

Is he your daughter, sir? I seem to
detect a resemblance. No, do I look...

like the man who would permit his
daughter to work as a waitress.

I'm still waiting for you to inform me
who you are and why you should wish to

see me.

My card, sir.

Nicholas Gadsby.

Attorney, hmm?

I have small liking for your profession,
sir.

I cannot imagine what business you can
have with me. The damn thieves of the

law did their worst to me in Ireland
many years ago, so I really...

That is,

do you happen by any chance to represent
the father of young Simon Harford?

Then you were expecting.

That makes things easier. We need not
beat about the bush.

I do represent Mr. Henry Harford, sir.

Then accept my apologies, sir, for my
animadversions against your profession.

I'm afraid I may be prejudiced.

In the army, were you... We suffered
more casualties from your attacks at

home than the French ever inflicted.
Indeed, sir. But I must tell you, my

time is short.

With your permission, we will proceed at
once to the matter in hand.

I think I can hazard a guess as to what
that matter is. You've come about the

settlement. Exactly, sir. Mr. Harford
was of the opinion, and I agreed with

him, that a settlement would be foremost
in your mind. It does me honor, sir,

that Mr. Harford appreciates his dealing
with a gentleman, and he knows how these

matters can be properly arranged. He has
that kind of breeding.

I will be quite frank with you, sir. The
devil of it is, it comes at a very

difficult time for me.

Temporary, of course, but I cannot deny
that I'm pinched at the moment.

Definitely pinched.

No matter. But my only child's happiness
is at stake. I'm prepared to do every

possible, every possible step. I will
sign my note at hand, no matter how

ruinous the interest demanded by the
scoundrelly moneylender.

By the way, what amount does Mr. Harford
think proper? Anything in reason?

I do not know what you are talking
about, sir.

Unless you think to make a fool of me,
if this is what is known as Irish wit...

I care not, sir. What's your word?

Since I'm making a fool of you, sir, I
would be the fool if I attempted to

improve on God's handiwork. I wish no
quarrel with you, sir.

I cannot for the life of me see... I
fear we're dealing at gross purposes.

Will you tell me plainly what you mean
by your talk of settlement?

Obviously, I mean the settlement I'm
prepared to make on my daughter.

Isn't your purpose in coming here to
arrange on Mr. Harford's behalf for the

marriage of his son with my daughter?

Marriage? Good God, no, nothing of the
kind.

Well, what have you come for, then? To
inform you, sir, that Mr. Henry Harford

is unalterably opposed to any further
relationship between his son and your

daughter, whatever the nature of that
relationship in the past.

If you dare to insinuate... I insinuate
nothing, sir.

I am here on Mr. Harford's behalf to
make you an offer.

Mr. Harford is prepared to pay you the
sum of $3,000, provided, mark you,

that you and your daughter sign an
agreement which specifies that you

relinquish all further claims of
whatever nature.

And provided also that you agree to
leave this part of the country at once

with your family, Mr. Harford suggests
that it would be advisable that you go

west to Ohio, say?

So, Henry Harford.

It does me the honor to suggest that,
does it? Well, Charlie, you could not

have spoken seriously when you talked of
marriage.

There's such a different sensation.

But the idea's preposterous. If you knew
Mr. Hoffman, you would realize that he

would never... Know him by the immortal.
I'll know him soon, and he'll know me.

But first, you Yankee. What?

No! Just give me a bank card!

You're surprised that you're dirty or
not?

You're right, sir. You're right.

It would be beneath me to soil my hands
on this vile lickspittle.

But you won't get away scot-free here,
Roshan. Get over here.

Here, you stunkard scoundrel. Take your
hands off me. You may tell the swindling

traitor Harford who employs you that he
will hear from me. Throw this thing out.

down the street. It's with his master I
have to deal and by the powers I'll deal

with him. You come with me, Jamie. I
want you for a witness.

He'll apologize to me.

More than that, he will come back here
this very minute and publicly apologize

to my daughter or he will meet me in the
morning. By God, I'll face him at

ten paces or across a handkerchief.

I'll put a bullet through his head. Shut
up, woman.

I didn't say that, Father.

But you're not in Ireland now.

You'll never be let see him. Old Harford
will never fight. Oh, he won't, won't

he? Well, by God, I'll make him.

I'll take a whip and drag him out of his
house. I'll lash him down the street for

all his neighbors to see. He'll
apologize or he'll fight.

Father, you'll never be let see him. His
servants will keep you out.

He'll have the police arrest you and
it'll be in the paper about another

drunken mick causing a crazy row. Tell
him. Tell him I'm telling the truth,

Jamie. Well, maybe Sarah is right,
Major.

Of course, if you become such a coward,
you're afraid to go.

Coward, is it?

I'll go be damned to you. Jamie, you
fool.

Oh, it's like talking to two crazy men.

Father, for the love of God, don't do
it. Have I ever asked you for anything

before? Well, you can ask me now. I'll
beg you on my knees. Anything you want.

Why, you've paid that lawyer for...

Please, why can't you please? You talk
like a scheming peasant.

It's a question of my honour.

No, it's a question of my happiness.

And I won't have your marriage
appearing.

Listen, father.

If you'll keep out of this, I'll show
you how I'll make a fool of old

Hartford.

Simon won't let anything his father does
keep him from marrying me. It's only his

mother who might have the influence over
him to come between us.

He's just waiting for an excuse to
turn... Simon against marrying me.

Can't you see what an excuse, what a
chance that will give me if you go

making a public row?

Insolent, insolent Yankee bitch. She's
all the more reason.

Marrying, you say. You dare think that
there can be any question now of

marrying the son of a man who has
insulted my honor and yours? Yes, I dare

to think it.

I love Simon and I'm going to marry him.
I say you're not.

I forbid you ever to see him again.

If you, if you defy me. Yes. For the
sake of that dirty money.

I defy you. Or anyone who tries to come
between us. You filthy peasant slut, you

whore. I'll kill you first.

I've got to kill you. I've got to kill
you.

We're going after Harford, Major. We'd
better go.

That thief and the lawyer will warn him.

Yes.

Let's go, Jamie. Let's go.

We'll start a cup and we'll be off.

If the mayor wasn't lame, I'd ride
alone.

We can pick up a rigger that's stable.

Don't let me forget to stop at the barn
for a whip.

Father, you'll force me to go to Simon
and do what you said.

The army is back, Major, with the foe
flying in retreat.

Works himself.

I'll let her be. He'll be in the back.
Come on.

You should have seen the Yankee. The
coachman had to help him up into the rig

at the corner. And Roach gave the
coachman a clout on the head for good

measure.

Sarah?

Is Sarah worth himself?

I couldn't stop him.

Oh, it's like the old times come again.

in the chloro.

Even in them days before I'd done more
than speak a word to him or made

him a bow as he'd ride by in his hunter.

I used to lie awake at night and pray
for him when I'd hear he was fighting a

jolt in the morning.

I was in love with him even then.

But I'll not worry this time, and let
you not either.

There wasn't a man in gangway with
Ezekiel with a pistol.

And what chance did this old stick of a
Yankee have with him?

That's him! Leave him! Go on! Die!
Don't!

What's that, God?

No good.

Well, let him go his way and I'll go
mine.

I won't let his madness destroy my life,
not after the dreams I've dreamed,

plans I've made.

I'll show him I can play at the game of
gentleman's honor, too.

I'm going upstairs to bed, Mother.

To bed, it is.

I didn't say sleep, but I can try and
rest. I'm dead tired, Mother.

Oh, you must be, Darren.

It's been the devil's own day for you,
though.

Oh, forgive me, Darren. I was forgetting
about you and young Hartford.

Oh, God, help us.

Never mind.

If it's true love between you, you'll
not let a duel or anything else keep you

from each other, whatever the cost.

Don't I know?

You'll stay down here and wait up,
Mother?

I'd be destroyed with worry lying down
in the dark.

The noise of them in the bar keeps
something spiraling away.

Yes.

You'd better wait down here.

Good night, Mother.

Good night, John.

Sure a bit.

Oh, don't be worrying now.

Sure, it's not so late yet.

I come in to see how you are, and bring
a taste to put heart in you.

Oh, I know, I know you don't indulge,
but I've known you once in a while, and

you need it this night.

Now, come now, don't be stubborn.

I'm the doctor, and I highly recommend a
drop to drive out black thoughts and

rheumatism.

A taste only.

That's the talk.

Now drink, Artie.

Oh, I've no taste for anything.

But I thank you for the thought.

You're a good lad, Mickey.

Here's news to cheer you.

The word got round among the boy. And
they've all come in to wait for Craig

and himself.

There'll be more money taken over the
bar than any night since this has been

started.

Ah, if they do hate Conmelody, he's
Irish.

And I hate the Yanks worse.

They're all hoping he's paid the living
lights of the Harford. So they have, I

know. Ah, that's the thought.

I'm glad to see you roused from your
worrying.

Well, I... I'd better get back.

I left O'Dowd to ten bar.

And I'll wager he's three drinks stolen
already.

Sarah's not been down?

No. Well, you'd think she'd have more
talk for you than leave you to sit up

alone. I made her go to bed.

She was destroyed with tiredness and
sick with worry.

She must have fallen asleep like the
young calf. And none of your talk

against Sarah now. The devil take her.

There's no baiting you, Nora.

Sure, it'd be the joy of me life to have
a mother like you to fight for me.

Or better still.

A wife like you.

Oh, thank you, darling, for the young
girl. The devil take the young girls.

You're worth a hundred of them. Get
along with you.

Oh, darling, it's you.

Proud of me of coming last there.

Sick of worry I got to the point where I
can't stand waiting alone.

Just under drugs, dancing, celebrating.

It's cruel, it is.

There's no heart or thought for himself
and devil or one of them. And don't tell

me not to worry.

You're as bad as Mickey.

I think he didn't apologise. Your
father'd have been back here long since.

It's a duel for certain.

He must have taken a room in the city to
be near the ground. I hope he'll sleep.

But I'm afraid he'll stay up drinking
and at dawn he'll have had too much to

shoot his best maybe.

Will you let go of me?

You've hardened yourself not to care.

I'd rather stay alone.

Oh, no, no, excuse me.

Sit down, darling.

Oh, if he didn't, Betty, why hasn't he
sent Jamie Craig or someone back with

word from me?

He knows well I'd be tormented with
waiting.

Oh, don't talk like a loon.

I'm going to say I've required for
anyone but himself and his pride.

He never stopped to think of me. The
grand gentleman and his red livery of

bloody England.

His pride indeed.

What is it? But a lie.

What's in his veins? God pity him. But
the blood of thieving old Ned Melody who

kept a dirty shebane.

Oh no.

I won't say it. I'll never.

Break his heart if he heard me.

All the same, I won't stay here,
worrying me heart out about a man who...

Oh, it isn't only fear over the jewel.

It's because I'm afraid of God's
punishment and

all the sorrow and trouble that's come
on us.

I got the black torment in me mind.

And it's the fault of my mortal sin I
did with him unmarried.

And the promise he made me make to leave
the church, it's kept me from ever

confessing to the priest.

Go to a doctor, you say, to cure
rheumatism.

It's the pain of guilt in me soul.

Can a doctor's medicine cure that?

No.

Only a priest to God Almighty.

Joseph Conrad, if I took a chance now,
broke my promise and woke the priest to

hear my confession, hopefully I had the
courage.

I'll do it.

No, I wouldn't.

I'll call the police, then.

Well, why don't you go, Mother?

Ain't I gone?

God forgive me, I can't.

What's the use of pretending?

No use.

I've learned about that.

He'd feel I'd betrayed him, and my word
and my love for him.

He knows well, for all his scorn, that
my love is all he has in the world to

comfort him.

And it's my honour, too. It's not for
his sake, it's all.

Devourment him.

You always preach as if he had all the
honour there is.

But I've mine too, as proud as his.

Yes.

The honor of her love to a woman.

I've learned about that too, Mother.

Oh, you've found your tongue, have you?

Thank God.

The cold comfort of sitting here silent
like a statue and me talking to myself.

Moshe, but it's pleased and pretty you
look.

If you hadn't a care in the world for
your poor father... Oh, Mother, I know

it's no use telling you that there won't
be any duel, but maybe you'll take

Simon's word for it if you won't take
mine.

He said his father would be paralysed
with indignation at the thought he'd

fight a duel. It's against the law.

Well, if the young lad said that, maybe
it's true.

Of course it's true, Mother.

Your father'd be satisfied with half his
apology and that's ended.

And you think what's kept him out is he
and Jamie had a pour of drinks to

celebrate? Oh, well, they'd drink for
sure, whatever happened.

All that doesn't matter now, Mother.

Gee, what a queer way of talking, as if
you'd been asleep and were still having

a dream.

It's a dream that's true, Mother, and
always will be till the end of life, and

I'll never wake from it. Sure, what's
come over you, Tor?

Joy.

That's what's come over me. I'm happy.

I'm happy because I know now Simon is
mine and no one can take him from me.

Oh, God, I'm afraid.

The great sorrow tormenting me that the
steward would come between us. I was a

great fool to think that Simon's mother
could turn him against me.

Have you had a talk with her?

I have.

That's where I've been.

But then there's rumor that she went
home.

Almost.

Took me a little while to get up my
courage after I got upstairs.

Time the dead a night.

And it's nice, don't I? I have a right.

Oh, excuse me.

Were you the way you are? You're only
your nightgown and wrapper. I was.

And Simon likes my costume, if you
don't.

Although he got as red as a beet when I
came in. Small wonder he did.

Shame on you.

He was trying to read a book of poetry
and he couldn't.

He was that worried.

Hoping I'd come to say goodnight and
being afraid I wouldn't. Oh, Mother, it

was the cutest thing I've ever done.

Not to see him since his mother left.

He kept worrying and hoping I'd come.
And when I didn't, he got scared to

death that his kissing me this morning
had made me angry.

So he was wild with joy to see me. In
your bare legs with only your nightgown

and wrapper to cover your nakedness.
Where's your modesty?

I had it with me.

Although I tried hard to leave it
behind, I got as red as he was.

Isn't that a great joke on me, Mother?
Here I've gone to his room with my mind

made up to be as bold as any street
woman and tempt him because I knew his

honour would make him marry me right
away if... And all I could do was stand

and gape at him and blush.

Oh, well, I'm glad you had the decency
to push.

Simon spoke first.

And once he'd started, everything he'd
been holding back came out.

The waiting for me and the fear made him
forget his shyness.

And he said he loved me.

And he asked me to marry him as soon as
I could.

Without knowing how it happened there, I
was with my arms around

him and his around me and my lips on
his.

And it was heaven, Mother.

Then I was crying, telling him how
scared I was his mother hated me.

And the father's madness with the duel
would give her a chance to come between

us. And he said no one could ever come
between us.

And that I was foolish to think his
mother wouldn't be anything but amused.

That it would be a great joke on his
father after he'd been so sure he could

buy us off.

If he had to call the police to save
him. The police?

Yes, sir. The dirty coward.

I've gone melody curse for police and
I'm in a rage.

And Simon told me how scared he'd been.

That I didn't love him.

And that I wouldn't marry him and that
he was a failure because he... He

couldn't be what he wanted to be, a
poet.

So I kissed him, and I said he was to a
poet, and that he always would be, and

it was what I loved most about him. Just
let one of them put his dirty on and con

melody. He'll knock him senseless with
one blow.

And Simon told me how poor he was, and
that he'd never accept a penny from his

father, even if he offered it, and I
told him, never mind.

But if we had to live in a hut, or sleep
in the grass of a field without a roof

to our head, and work our fingers to the
bone...

or starve itself, I'd be in heaven and
sing with the joy of our love. And I

meant it, Mother. I meant every word of
it from the bottom of my heart.

Torshita, darling, isn't that a great
joke on me?

All my crazy dreams of riches and a
grand estate.

You were right, Mother.

I know nothing of love and the pride a
woman can take in giving everything.

Pride in her own love.

Oh, I'm sure you do, darling.

You just let the police try it.

We'll whoop them back to their kennels,
that dirty curse.

And then we put out the light.

And Simon forgot whatever shyness he had
left in the dark.

And he said he meant all the bold things
he'd written in the poems I'd read.

I confessed to him that I was up to
every scheme to get him.

And all the time we were kissing each
other, wild with happiness, and then...

I know, Jordan.

You know, Mother?

I know what?

What are you saying?

Look up at me.

I can see.

You let him. You let him. There was no
letting about it. Only love making

the two of us. Ain't you ashamed to
boast?

No. Well, you know I'm not.

Ashamed? There was no shame in it.
Haven't you told me of the pride you had

in your love? Were you ashamed?

I was. I was dead ashamed. You were not.
You were proud like me. I'm a mortal.

And God will punish you. Oh, let him.

If he were to say to me, for every time
you kiss Simon, you'll spend a thousand

years in hell, I wouldn't care. I'd wear
out my lips kissing him. But no, he may

hear you. Wouldn't you have said the
same?

Oh, don't be, don't, don't make me with
your simple questions. I won't answer.

Oh, all right. All right, Mother. All
right.

All right.

Forgive me.

who was guilty and repentant.

If he'd had his way, we'd be up out of
bed now, and the two of us walking

around in the dead of night trying to
wake up someone who could marry us.

But I was so mad with love, I'd lost all
care or thought of marriage.

It got to the point where all you know
or think about is that you belong to

love.

You were right, Mother.

I always knew you were the sweetest
woman in the world.

But I never suspected you were a wise
woman, too, until I knew the truth of

what you said tonight.

That a woman can forgive whatever the
man she loves could do and love him

still.

Because it's through him she found the
love in herself.

It's love, slaves, we are.

Not men's.

Wouldn't it shame their boasting and
vanity?

We let them know our secret.

I'm glad Simon can't hear me.

I can even understand now, a little
anyway, how you can still love father

and be proud of it. Gosh. Oh,

for the love of God, Sarah, where is he?

Why doesn't he come? What's happened to
him? Mother, don't be a fool. Nothing's

happened to him.

Except he's made a mass of himself for
Simon's mother to sneer at. Oh, he'll

come home as drunk as two lords,
boasting of his glorious victory over

old Tarthas, no matter what the truth
is.

Jamie!

Please be to the sense you're back.

Jamie,

where's your sense?

I got him in a rig outside.

I had to make sure no one was here. I'll
bring him in.

Did you see Jamie's face?

They've been fighting terribly.

Oh, sir, I'm afraid.

Afraid of what? Well, I told you, a
crazy row, and now he's paralysed. Oh,

come on, darling.

Are you hurt or sad?

Come on, don't you know me?

Oh, God help us!

Look at his head! Mama, be quiet. Do you
want them in the bar to know he's come

home this way? Oh, that's it, Sarah.
We've got to rouse him first.

His pride will never forgive us if we
let them see him.

Dead beat like this. He's drunk. That's
all it is, isn't it, Jamie? No, he is

not. He's not taken a drop since we left
here.

It's them clouts on the head he got.
That's what ails him.

Taste of the whiskey would bring him
back if only he'd take it, but he won't.

He won't? Yeah, try and wake him.

Yeah.

Here now, Major, drink this.

You'll be right as rain.

He won't, see?

That's the way he's been all the way
back when I tried to persuade him.

Well, if he won't, I will by your leave.
I'm needing it bad.

It's the devil's own rampage we have.

From your looks, it must have been.
You're taking it cool enough. And you've

seen the marks of the beating we got.

If we're marked, there's others is
marked worse.

And some of them is the police. God be
praised, the dirty coward. Be quiet.

Tell us what happened, Jamie.

Fakes what didn't happen.

We're the Rocket Castle.

I've never engaged in a livelier shimmy.

We had no trouble finding where Harford
lived. That's a grand mansion with a big

walled garden behind.

And we went to the front door.

Flunky and livery answered.

With two others behind. Big black nigger
was one.

That pig of a lawyer.

He must have warned Harford to expect
us.

Anyway, calm.

We spoke with the ears of a lord.

Kindly inform your master, says he, that
Major Cornelius Melody, late of His

Majesty's Seventh Dragoons, respectfully
requests a word with him.

The flunky. He puts an insolent sneer on
him.

Mr. Harford won't see you, says he.

I could see Con's rage rising, but he
kept polite.

You tell him, says he, if he knows
what's good for him. You see me.

If he don't... I'll come in and see him.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Oh, you will, says the flunky.

I'll have you know, Mr.

Harford don't allow drunken mix to come
around here disturbing him. Anyway, says

he, the police has been informed. If
there's any trouble, you'll be arrested.

And anyway, says he, you've come to the
wrong door. The place for the likes of

you... It's the servants' entrance. You
let old Harford's servants insult you.

Well, I warned you. Let them be down.
You keep your mouth shut now and let me

tell it. You'll see if we let them.

Now, when he says that, Flunky, he tried
to slam the door in our face, but Con

was too quick. He pushed it back on him,
leapt into the hall, roaring mad, and

hit that Flunky, cut with his whip
across his ugly mouth, sent him

screaming like a stuck pig. God for you,
Condor. Mother, hush.

The famous duelist in a drunken brawl
with butlers and coachmen.

Now, shut your mouth, Sarah, and don't
be trying to plague him. And don't you

be putting on fine airs about fighting.
And use the whole cause of it. That's a

lie. I... Wait till you hear, Nora.

The nigger, he took me a clout, had me
head dizzy. He had me down on a con.

Broke the butt of his whip across his
black skull, sent him to his knees.

The third man...

He punches Con. I give him a kick where
I do him the least good. He goes rolling

on the floor, grabbing his guts. Be the
saints.

We had the three of them licked, and
we'd have dragged old Harford from his

den and tanned his Yankee hide if the
police hadn't caught him. Out of the

dirty cowards. I was hiding against the
rich, with the rich shags against the

poor Irish. Can't you be still, Mother?
Four of them, with clubs, come behind

us. And before we knew it, they grabbed
us and dragged us in the street.

Khan broke away, hit the one that held
him. I gave another a knee in the belly,

and then, big glory, there was a fight.

Oh, it would have done your heart good
to see himself.

He was worth any two men, letting out
left and right, roaring with rage,

cursing like a trooper. Bravely done,
Major Melody. A commander of the forces

commends your exceptional gallantry.

Like the field of Talavera, like the
charge on the French square.

Cursing like a drunken foul-mouthed son
of a thieving

Shabine keeper.

I sprang from the filth of a peasant
hubble with pigs on the floor.

That pale Yankee bitch watching from a
window.

Sneering of disgust.

Can't preserve us. It's crazy as... He's
not crazed, Mother. He's come to his

senses at last.

So, she was sneering, was she? Well, I'm
glad you've been taught a lesson.

Shut your gap, sir.

Leave him be. Take no heed.

That's the same crazy blather he's
talked every once in a while since we

brought him to. About that Harford
woman.

And talking of his father and pigs one
minute and his honour and pride and his

mayor the next.

Well, anyways, that was too much for us.
Four of them with clubs.

But be the mortal, we went down fighting
to the last for the glory of all

Ireland. Like a rum-soaked trooper
brawling before a brothel on a Saturday

night puking in the gutter.

We wasn't in condition if we had been.

But they knocked us senseless and they
rode us to the station and locked us up.

And we'd have been there yet if old
Harford hadn't made them turn us loose.

He's rich and has influence.

Small thanks to him. He was afraid the
row would get in the papers and put

shame on him.

How are you going?

Don't cross him out, Nora. He don't know
you.

Sure, he's only going upstairs to bed.

You know what's best for you, don't you,
Major?

Jamie's right, Mother.

The best thing will be if he falls
asleep.

Oh, my God.

What if he takes revenge on Simon?

No, he's... He's gone into a throma.

I'm a fool. He'd never hurt a sick man.
I've never heard him talk like that in

all the years.

That crazy dead look in his eyes.

Oh, my third.

Leave me be. I want to make sure he's
gone to bed.

Stay where you are unless you're a fool,
Sarah.

He might come to all of a sudden and
give you a hell of a thrashing.

Troth, you deserve one. Ain't you to
blame for what happened? Wasn't he

fighting to revenge insults on you?

Oh, thank you to mind your own business,
Jamie Cregan.

Just because you're a relation... Off to
hell with your heirs.

I can revenge my own insults, and I
have.

He's only made a fool of himself.

For Simon's mother to sneer at.

And I've beaten her.

And I'll sneer last.

Oh, merciful God, what a... What a way
to think of... I

must be crazy, too.

Oh, don't be.

Didn't the two of us lick them all? And
Khan's all right. He's all right, I'm

saying. Just the club on the head, he
took the hasn't queer a while.

All the same, it's no fun listening to
his mad blather about the pale bitches,

he calls her.

Like she was some ghost haunting and
scorning him. And his mad gab about his

mare is madder still.

What a grand, beautiful lady she is with
her slender ankles and dainty feet and

sobbing, begging her forgiveness.

Talking of dishonour and death.

To hell with this night.

He's come down.

He's come down.

He's gone out to the barn.

Go after him.

Go after him. I will not. He's all
right. Leave him alone. He's only gone

to call on his sweetheart. Will you shut
up? I told you.

I heard him open the closet in his room.

where he keeps his set of old Jordan
pistols, and he was carrying that box

when he come down. Oh, the lunatic. He's
going to ride that mare over to

Hanford's and going to murder somebody
for the love of God, Jim. Hey, Christ,

I'll stop him for you, Nora.

Pistols are no pistols.

And he must be... Oh, God.

As if he hadn't done enough to destroy
my... Oh, the mad fool I was. He was...

I didn't mean it, Mother.

I didn't mean it.

Mother, you know I didn't mean it.

No, no, not Jamie.

Oh, I can't bear waiting.

I'm afraid to know.

I'm afraid to know.

I found him in the stable with that
pistol in his hand and made to it on the

floor beside the mayor.

He's mad. He's grown entirely.

Now, you take care of him now, wife and
daughter. I've had enough. I'm no damn

keeper of lunatics.

Jamie, Jamie, we heard a shot. What was
it?

You ask him, not me.

It killed the poor mayor, the mad fool.

I found him on the floor with her head
in his lap and her dead and he's sobbing

like a soul in hell.

Let me get out of the sight of him.

To where there's men in their right
senses laughing and singing. And don't

be afeard, Sarah, that I'll tell the
boys a word of this. It's our fight in

the city I'll talk of only. That's all I
want to remember.

since time began.

You call killing the mayor a joke?

Look at the dead face on him. He's like
a corpse. Come, darling, don't. I should

not worry, Alana, sure.

I'm no corpse. And with a few drinks in
me, I'll soon be lively enough to

torture.

This is true.

Put him on the boat of torment. He no
heed.

He's playing.

acting to amuse himself. No, no, no.
It's from the blow he got on her head.

Let her blow me. My foot. Blather.

That Jamie Cregan blather. Sure, it'll
take more than a few clubs on the head

to darken my witch's slug.

Me brains, if I have any, is clear as a
bell.

And I'm not putting on broke to torment
you, my darling.

Play Acton, Sarah. That was the Major's
game.

Sure. It's queer, surely, for the two of
you to object when I talk in me natural

tongue and yours and not be putting on
airs like the late lamented old liar and

lunatic Major Cornelius Melody of his
majesty's seven dragoons used to do. Oh,

God help us, pal, our little... You've
fought his death now, and his last

prison line's pride is murdered and
taken.

So let you be easy, darling. He'll never
again hurt you with his...

and his pretending he's a gentleman
blathering about pride and honor and

boasting of jewels in the days thus gone
and showing off before the Yankees and

them laughing at him, prancing around
drunk on his beautiful thoroughbred

mare.

But she's dead now.

Poor beast.

Why? Why did you kill her?

Well, it's a major, you mean.

Right. I thought if you can't see that,
wasn't she the living reminder, so to

speak, of all his lying boasts and
dreams?

He meant to kill her first with one
pistol and then himself with the other.

But, fake, he thought the shot that
killed her had finished him too.

There wasn't much pride left in the old
lunatic anyway, and seeing her die made

an end of him.

So he didn't bother shooting himself
because that would be a mad thing to

waste a good bullet on a corpse. Don't,
Father.

I tell you, there was a great joke in
it. Well, that's the joke.

Sweet Christ.

The look in her eyes by the lantern
light.

The life ebbing out of them, wondering
and sad.

Still trustful, not reproaching me with
no fear in me.

Proud, understanding, pride.

She saw I was dying with her. She
understood. She forgave me.

He can't live. That wasn't the bad
major. Go speak to him.

But be damned to him.

He'll not haunt me long if I know it.

I intend to live at my ease for the rest
of me life and not let the dead bother

me, but enjoy life in me proper station
as old Nick Melody's son.

I'll bury his nature's temperate livery
of bloody England

deep in the ground, and he can haunt its
grave if he likes.

boasted the lonely knight of Talavera
and the ladies of Spain and fight in the

French. I think the boys is right when
they say he stole the uniform and he

never fought under Wellington at all. He
was a terrible liar and I remember him.

Oh, darling, don't be crazy. I'm about
to marry you. Shall you come get him?

Mother has fathered. When you stop this
mad game you're playing. A game? Is

that? Oh, you'll find us no game.

As the Major played a game all his life,
the crazy old loon, and cheated only

himself, but I'll be content to stay
meself in me proper station as old Nick

Melody's son for the rest of my life.

And it's meself that feels it's my duty
to give you a bit of fatherly

advice. Well, my mind is on it, Sarah,
darling. I know you have great ambition,

so remember it to hell with honour if
you want to rise in this world.

Remember the blood in your veins and be
your grandfather's true descendant.

There was an able man for you. But
Jesus, he never felt anything beneath

him that could gain him something.

And for lying tricks and swindling the
bloody fools of Gentry, there wasn't his

match in Ireland. And he ended up with a
grand estate and a castle and a pile of

gold in the bank. I hate you.

I know that he'd advise that to give you
a first step up, darling, you know what

I mean.

He'd tell you to have the young Yankee
gentleman in your bed. Make him have

you, see? And after he's had you, weep
great tears and appeal to his honour to

marry you and save yours.

Oh, shut...

He'll never resist that. I know him for
his young fool.

He's full of decency and dreams and
loony, too, with a touch of the poet in

the war. It'll be easy for you, darling.
I'll make you stop your dirty brogue and

your play-acting.

Thank you kindly for your wise advice,
Father, but I've already made him have

me in his bed while you were out drunk
fighting with the police. Hold your

brazen tongue!

Now, God bless you.

I might have known you'd not take any
chance. The old fool of a major going

out to revenge an insult to you would
spoil your schemes.

Be the living God, it's me you should be
proud this night.

One of the Yankee gentry has hoped to be
seduced by mine.

Slut of a daughter.

Oh, for the love of God, Conn, will you
be mother and son?

Mother and son, is it?

Is it that?

All I want to do is congratulate her.

Oh, it's all right, Conn. It's all
right. The young lad wants to marry her

as soon as he can. She told me that, and
he did before.

Oh, worship this kind of a...

Be sure to be proud of our daughter,
Nora.

Leave it to her to get what she wants by
hook or crook.

Oh, we'll be proud of her, watching her
rise in the world like a grand lady. Oh,

yes, surely.

Father. She'll have to root out his
dreams, though. She'll have some trouble

doing that.

He's set in his proud noble ways, you
know.

But she'll find the way. She'll find it.

Me God, what am I doing with a major's
pistol?

I don't need pistols. Me fists are a
club of his hand ain't enough.

And me and Jamie lick a whole regiment
of police this night. You're dead

enough. There haven't been so many of
them.

That's the talk.

Ah, so there's devil a more loyal wife
in this whole world.

I love you.

Go on. I wanted to tell you that so
often.

Only the Major, damn him, had me under
his proud thumb.

Oh, they cut my hair. It is, it is. Why
wouldn't I be?

You have beautiful hair. God bless you.

And don't you be remembering anything
the Major told you.

A gentleman sneers that he put on his
buried with him.

I'll be a real husband to you now.

And I'll help you run the Chabin.

And I'll fire Mickey Malloy and tend the
bar, mister, like my father's son ought

to do. I'll never. I'll not let you.

But I offered, remember, as you refused.

Jeez.

Maybe you're right not to trust me too
near the whiskey, eh?

Jesus, that reminds me.

I've not had a taste for hours. I'm
dying at first.

I'll get you. No, you won't do that.

I want company.

I want singing and dancing and that.
I'll join the boys in the bar and help

Cousin Jamie celebrate the wonderful
Sydney with the police. You ought to go

to Bad Con, darling, with your head
hurt. I'm fresh as a man newborn.

I'll see you goodnight, darling.

You go to bed too, Sarah.

You deserve a long, dreamless sleep
after all you've accomplished this day.

Father, please.

Won't you be yourself again?

You keep your mouth closed, you slut.

And not talk like you was ashamed of me,
your father.

Jesus, I'm not the major. It was too
much of a gentleman to lay a hand on

your face. I'll give you such a box on
the nose.

I'll teach you to raise the dead.

Father, don't go in with those drunken
scum.

Jamie will come here.

He'll keep you company. He'll laugh and
sing and help you celebrate Taliban.

Help with Taliban!

Oh, be Jesus, if it ain't them there,
the old rule who's always admiring is

mogging while he's spouting by and
pretending himself was a great lord with

a touch for the poet.

I have not loved the world, nor the
world me.

I have not flappered at, shrank,
pressed, nor bowed to at idolatries,

a patient me, nor coined me cheek to
smiles, nor cried aloud in worship of an

echo. In the crowd they could not deem
me one of such. I stood among them, but

not of them.

Oh, be Christ.

He was the joke of the world, the major.
He should have been a clown in a circus.

God rest his soul in the flames of
torment.

That's the hell with the dead.

Be God, I'm alive.

And I am one of the crowd.

Be God, I'll be among them and of them
too.

I'll make up for the lonely dog's life,
the major. Let me... Father, please

don't put this final shame on yourself.

You're not drunk now. You have no
excuse. You'll be as dead to yourself

after as if you were shot yourself along
with the mayor.

Listen to the little one reproaching me
because I'm not drunk. Oh, that's a

condition soon mended.

Leave him alone, Sarge.

Oh, I'm missing a lot of fun out there.

God, I've a bit of news to tell the boys
that'll make them roar the house down.

The Major's passing to his eternal rest
has set me free to join the Democrats.

And I vote for Andy Jackson, the friend
of the common man, like me.

God bless him. No,

I won't let you. It's my pride, too.

Listen, Father, forgive me. I know it's
my fault.

For always sneering at you and insulting
you. But it was only the lies I meant.

The truth.

Talavera. The buke praising your
bravery.

Even the ladies in Spain. Deep down,
that was my pride, too. That I was your

daughter.

Please forgive me.

I'll do anything you want. I'll even
tell Simon that after his father's

insult to you...

I'm too proud to marry the son of a
Yankee coward.

Sarah, let me go. For the love of God,
stop and let me go.

Leave your poor father alone at best.

Why couldn't you be still? Why can't
you, you mean?

I warned you what you'd get if you kept
on interfering and trying to raise the

dirt.

Pity you, Con. Will you be heading for
Sarah now?

I tell you, I'll put up with enough. Are
you shut up, darling?

I won't have to again.

I'll teach you, me proud Sarah.

I know you won't try to raise in the
dead anymore.

And let me hear no more gabber to you
about not marrying the young lad

upstairs. But Jesus, haven't you any
honor, any shame?

You seduce him and you'll make an honest
gentleman of him if I have to march you

both by the scruff of the neck to the
nearest church.

Forgive me.

Both?

I'll join my good friends in the bar.

Don't mind his giving you a slap.

He's still corning his head.

But he'll drink and sing and laugh and
have a power of whiskey and sleep

sound after. And pimp himself again
tomorrow.

Maybe.

He's beaten.

And he wants to stay beaten.

Well, I did my best.

Though why, I don't know.

I must have a crazy pride in me.

I mean the late Major Mulledy's pride.

I mean... I did.

Now it's dead.

Thank God.

And I'll make a better wife to Simon for
her. This is the next president, Andy

Jackson. Hello, Paul.

Hi,

Peter Codd.

June, for Andy Jackson. Did you hear
him, sir?

I heard someone.

But with no one I know or want to know.

Well, that's good.

They won't all be hating him now.

And did you hear him?

Telling me he loved me.

Did you see him kiss me on the mouth?

And then he kissed my hair.

Sure, he must have gone mad, don't you
think?

No.

He meant it, Mother.

And he'll go on meaning it. He's free to
go.

Oh, if he wants to go on.

Making games with everyone, putting on
the brogue and acting like he's one of

them in there.

Why shouldn't he if it brings him peace
and company in his loneliness?

I'd pity him.

He's had to live his whole life alone in
the hell of pride.

He can play any game he likes and I'll
give him love in it.

Sure haven't I, August?

There's no pride at all except that.

You're a strange, noble woman, Mother.

I'll try to be like you.

Regis Simon never heard the shot or
anything.

He was sleeping like a baby when I left
him.

A cannon wouldn't wake him.

That's right, you don't know it, but
he's playing a requiem for the dead.

May the hero of Tenevara rest in peace.

Why do I cry, mother?

Why should I mourn for him? Come on,
darling.

You're destroyed with tiredness, that's
all.

Come on, I've fucked that.

I'll help you undress.

I'm not talking.

Shame on you.

when you have to laugh?

What would the young laugh think of me?