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قراءة كتاب The Turn of the Road A Play in Two Scenes and an Epilogue
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
The Turn of the Road A Play in Two Scenes and an Epilogue
want no tramps in here upsettin' my house and makin' it the talk of the neighbours. Out you go at once.
I thrust my company on no man or woman uninvited.
Out you go. I want no excuses. Put him out of this Samuel James.
Samuel James eludes his mother's eye and beckons the tramp to stay on.
The drunken wretch comin' in here. A nice place you'd have it William Granahan with your fine company.
I brought him home here as a tarr'ble and awful warnin' to Robbie John what this sort of an occupation brings a man till. Yon see him Robbie John. There's you're great fiddlin' for you. Be warned in time.
The tramp moves to the door. Robbie John rises and goes across to him and taps him on the shoulder.
Here.
God bless you poor wanderin' soul and God forbid any Granahan should ever be treated as you have been.
Sir, I thank you.
Perhaps I could yet please your ears with a romanza which I composed myself—
Away with you out of this. We want none of your music here.
Why don't you give up playin' that fiddle of yours and turn your hand to honest work?
Desert my fiddle. The fiddle presented to me at Vienna by my orchestra! A genuine old Cremona 200 years old! Rather would I wander in Hades for ever. Never! Though cruel words stab and wound me.
Farewell.
All remain quiet. The strains of a melancholy air like a serenade come from outside. It slowly dies away in the distance. Robbie John moves forward as if to go out.
Robbie John. Where are you going? Don't dare to leave the house. My son going out to keep company with the likes of that dirty rapscallion.
Ah mother pity the poor wretch. Every word you said to him cut and wounded me to the quick. Did you not see the tears in his eyes for all his fine talk. I should like to know more about him.
If you went to the sergeant at the barrack, I warrant ye he could tell you more about him.
He bends down as if to catch the sound of the fiddling which grows very faint.
Listen!
Where are you going?
Listen.
He holds his hand for silence. Then quickly goes out.
Well Mary the foal's sould at last.
I've a crow to pluck wi' you over that same foal, William Granahan. I suppose they did you as usual.
Nine and thirty year ha'e I gone till market and no man, woman, child, dog or divil ever got the better of me in a bargain yet and right well you know it.
I soul' the foal for thirty poun' not a ha'penny less.