Billy Malowney's Taste of Love and Glory Page #4

"Billy Malowney's Taste of Love and Glory" is a novella by Joseph Thomas Sheridan Le Fanu that explores themes of ambition, passion, and the quest for personal fulfillment. The narrative revolves around Billy Malowney, a young man who grapples with his dreams of success and the challenges posed by love and societal expectations. Set against the backdrop of 19th-century Ireland, the story delves into the tensions between personal desires and external pressures, ultimately illuminating the complexities of the human experience. Le Fanu's vivid storytelling and rich character development make this work a compelling exploration of love and ambition.

• Fiction

								

before all iv them got to their beds.

Well, Tim Donovan could not settle to sleep at all at all, an' so
he kep' discoorsin' the wife about the new cows he bought, an' the
stripphers he sould, an' so an for better than an hour, ontil from one
thing to another he kem to talk about the pigs, an' the poulthry; and
at last, having nothing betther to discoorse about, he begun at his
daughter Molly, an' all the heartscald she was to him be raison iv
refusin' the men. An' at last says he:

'I onderstand,' says he, 'very well how it is,' says he. 'It's how she
was in love,' says he, 'wid that bliggard, Billy Malowney,' says he,
'bad luck to him!' says he; for by this time he was coming to his
raison.

'Ah!' says the wife, says she, 'Tim darlint, don't be cursin' them
that's dead an' buried,' says she.

'An' why would not I,' says he, 'if they desarve it?' says he.

'Whisht,' says she, 'an' listen to that,' says she. 'In the name of the
Blessed Vargin,' says she, 'what IS it?' says she.

An' sure enough what was it but Bill Malowney that was dhroppin' asleep
in the closet, an' snorin' like a church organ.

'Is it a pig,' says he, 'or is it a Christian?'

'Arra! listen to the tune iv it,' says she; 'sure a pig never done the
like is that,' says she.

'Whatever it is,' says he, 'it's in the room wid us,' says he. 'The Lord
be marciful to us!' says he.

'I tould you not to be cursin',' says she; 'bad luck to you,' says she,
'for an ommadhaun!' for she was a very religious woman in herself.

'Sure, he's buried in Spain,' says he; 'an' it is not for one little
innocent expression,' says he, 'he'd be comin' all that a way to annoy
the house,' says he.

Well, while they war talkin', Bill turns in the way he was sleepin'
into an aisier imposture; and as soon as he stopped snorin' ould Tim
Donovan's courage riz agin, and says he:

'I'll go to the kitchen,' says he, 'an' light a rish,' says he.

An' with that away wid him, an' the wife kep' workin' the beads all the
time, an' before he kem back Bill was snorin' as loud as ever.

'Oh! bloody wars--I mane the blessed saints about us!--that deadly
sound,' says he; 'it's going on as lively as ever,' says he.

'I'm as wake as a rag,' says his wife, says she, 'wid the fair
anasiness,' says she. 'It's out iv the little closet it's comin,' says
she.

'Say your prayers,' says he, 'an' hould your tongue,' says he, 'while
I discoorse it,' says he. 'An' who are ye,' says he, 'in the name iv of
all the holy saints?' says he, givin' the door a dab iv a crusheen that
wakened Bill inside. 'I ax,' says he, 'who are you?' says he.

Well, Bill did not rightly remember where in the world he was, but he
pushed open the door, an' says he:

'Billy Malowney's my name,' says he, 'an' I'll thank ye to tell me a
betther,' says he.

Well, whin Tim Donovan heard that, an' actially seen that it was Bill
himself that was in it, he had not strength enough to let a bawl out iv
him, but he dhropt the candle out iv his hand, an' down wid himself on
his back in the dark.

Well, the wife let a screech you'd hear at the mill iv Killraghlin,
an'--

'Oh,' says she, 'the spirit has him, body an' bones!' says she. 'Oh,
holy St. Bridget--oh, Mother iv Marcy--oh, Father O'Flaherty!' says she,
screechin' murdher from out iv her bed.

Well, Bill Malowney was not a minute remimberin' himself, an' so out wid
him quite an' aisy, an' through the kitchen; bud in place iv the door
iv the house, it's what he kem to the door iv Father O'Flaherty's little
room, where he was jist wakenin' wid the noise iv the screechin' an'
battherin'; an' bedad, Bill makes no more about it, but he jumps, wid
one boult, clever an' clane into his raverance's bed.

'What do ye mane, you uncivilised bliggard?' says his raverance. 'Is
that a venerable way,' says he, 'to approach your clargy?' says he.

'Hould your tongue,' says Bill, 'an' I'll do ye no harum,' says he.

'Who are you, ye scoundhrel iv the world?' says his raverance.

'Whisht!' says he? 'I'm Billy Malowney,' says he.

'You lie!' says his raverance for he was frightened beyont all
bearin'--an' he makes but one jump out iv the bed at the wrong side,
where there was only jist a little place in the wall for a press,
an' his raverance could not as much as turn in it for the wealth iv
kingdoms. 'You lie,' says he; 'but for feared it's the truth you're
tellin',' says he, 'here's at ye in the name iv all the blessed saints
together!' says he.

An' wid that, my dear, he blazes away at him wid a Latin prayer iv the
strongest description, an', as he said himself afterwards, that was iv
a nature that id dhrive the divil himself up the chimley like a puff iv
tobacky smoke, wid his tail betune his legs.

'Arra, what are ye sthrivin' to say,' says Bill; says he, 'if ye don't
hould your tongue,' says he, 'wid your parly voo;' says he, 'it's what
I'll put my thumb on your windpipe,' says he, 'an' Billy Malowney never
wint back iv his word yet,' says he.

'Thundher-an-owns,' says his raverance, says he--seein' the Latin took
no infect on him, at all at all an' screechin' that you'd think he'd
rise the thatch up iv the house wid the fair fright--'and thundher and
blazes, boys, will none iv yes come here wid a candle, but lave your
clargy to be choked by a spirit in the dark?' says he.

Well, be this time the sarvint boys and the rest iv them wor up an' half
dressed, an' in they all run, one on top iv another, wid pitchforks and
spades, thinkin' it was only what his raverence slep' a dhrame iv the
like, by means of the punch he was afther takin' just before he rowl'd
himself into the bed. But, begorra, whin they seen it was raly Bill
Malowney himself that was in it, it was only who'd be foremost out
agin, tumblin' backways, one over another, and his raverence roarin' an'
cursin' them like mad for not waitin' for him.

Well, my dear, it was betther than half an hour before Billy Malowney
could explain to them all how it raly was himself, for begorra they were
all iv them persuadin' him that he was a spirit to that degree it's a
wondher he did not give in to it, if it was only to put a stop to the
argiment.

Well, his raverence tould the ould people then, there was no use in
sthrivin' agin the will iv Providence an' the vagaries iv love united;
an' whin they kem to undherstand to a sartinty how Billy had a shillin'
a day for the rest iv his days, begorra they took rather a likin'
to him, and considhered at wanst how he must have riz out of all his
nansinse entirely, or his gracious Majesty id never have condescinded
to show him his countenance that way every day of his life, on a silver
shillin'.

An' so, begorra, they never stopt till it was all settled--an' there was
not sich a weddin' as that in the counthry sinst. It's more than forty
years ago, an' though I was no more nor a gossoon myself, I remimber it
like yestherday. Molly never looked so purty before, an' Billy Malowney
was plisant beyont all hearin,' to that degree that half the girls in it
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