"Neither the son of his own
country nor of any other," he continued, thoughtfully.
"Scarcely human, in fact," Decoud commented under his breath, his head
at rest against the wall, his eyes gazing up at the ceiling.
"The victim of this faithless age," Father Corbelan resumed in a deep
but subdued voice.
"But of some use as a journalist." Decoud changed his pose and spoke
in a more animated tone. "Has your worship neglected to read the last
number of the Porvenir? I assure you it is just like the others. On
the general policy it continues to call Montero a gran' bestia, and
stigmatize his brother, the guerrillero, for a combination of lackey
and spy. What could be more effective? In local affairs it urges the
Provincial Government to enlist bodily into the national army the band
of Hernandez the Robber--who is apparently the protege of the Church--or
at least of the Grand Vicar. Nothing could be more sound."
The priest nodded and turned on the heels of his square-toed shoes with
big steel buckles. Again, with his hands clasped behind his back, he
paced to and fro, planting his feet firmly.
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