Page:In the Seven Woods, Yeats, 1903.djvu/70

 FINTAIN. Where would he be but for me? I must be always thinking, thinking to get food for the two of us, and when we've got it, if the moon's at the full or the tide on the turn, he'll leave the rabbit in its snare till it is full of maggots, or let the trout slip through his hands back into the water.

BARACH.

FINTAIN. Listen to him now! That's the sort of talk I have to put up with day out day in. (The fool is putting the feathers into his hair. Cuchullain takes a handful of feathers out of the heap and out of the fool's hair and begins to wipe the blood from his sword with them.)

BARACH. He has taken my feathers to wipe his sword. It is blood that he is wiping from his sword!

FINTAIN. Whose blood? Whose blood?

CUCHULLAIN. That young champion's.

FINTAIN. He that came out of Aoife's country? 58