He separated his bony, knotted hands clasped behind his back, to shake
his finger at Martin.
Decoud had stepped into the room after Antonia. But he did not go far.
He had remained just within, against the curtain, with an expression of
not quite genuine gravity, like a grown-up person taking part in a game
of children. He gazed quietly at the threatening finger.
"I have watched your reverence converting General Barrios by a special
sermon on the Plaza," he said, without making the slightest movement.
"What miserable nonsense!" Father Corbelan's deep voice resounded all
over the room, making all the heads turn on the shoulders. "The man is a
drunkard. Senores, the God of your General is a bottle!"
His contemptuous, arbitrary voice caused an uneasy suspension of every
sound, as if the self-confidence of the gathering had been staggered by
a blow. But nobody took up Father Corbelan's declaration.
It was known that Father Corbelan had come out of the wilds to advocate
the sacred rights of the Church with the same fanatical fearlessness
with which he had gone preaching to bloodthirsty savages, devoid
of human compassion or worship of any kind.
Pages:
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301