Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 6. CHAPTER SIX (continued)

Padre Roman sat dejectedly balancing himself, his feet just
touching the ground, his hands gripping the edge of the hammock.
With less confidence, but as ignorant as his flock, he asked the
major what did he think was going to happen now.

Don Pepe, bolt upright in the chair, folded his hands peacefully
on the hilt of his sword, standing perpendicular between his
thighs, and answered that he did not know. The mine could be
defended against any force likely to be sent to take possession.
On the other hand, from the arid character of the valley, when
the regular supplies from the Campo had been cut off, the
population of the three villages could be starved into
submission. Don Pepe exposed these contingencies with serenity
to Father Roman, who, as an old campaigner, was able to
understand the reasoning of a military man. They talked with
simplicity and directness. Father Roman was saddened at the idea
of his flock being scattered or else enslaved. He had no
illusions as to their fate, not from penetration, but from long
experience of political atrocities, which seemed to him fatal and
unavoidable in the life of a State. The working of the usual
public institutions presented itself to him most distinctly as a
series of calamities overtaking private individuals and flowing
logically from each other through hate, revenge, folly, and
rapacity, as though they had been part of a divine dispensation.
Father Roman's clear-sightedness was served by an uninformed
intelligence; but his heart, preserving its tenderness amongst
scenes of carnage, spoliation, and violence, abhorred these
calamities the more as his association with the victims was
closer. He entertained towards the Indians of the valley feelings
of paternal scorn. He had been marrying, baptizing, confessing,
absolving, and burying the workers of the San Tome mine with
dignity and unction for five years or more; and he believed in
the sacredness of these ministrations, which made them his own in
a spiritual sense. They were dear to his sacerdotal supremacy.
Mrs. Gould's earnest interest in the concerns of these people
enhanced their importance in the priest's eyes, because it really
augmented his own. When talking over with her the innumerable
Marias and Brigidas of the villages, he felt his own humanity
expand. Padre Roman was incapable of fanaticism to an almost
reprehensible degree. The English senora was evidently a
heretic; but at the same time she seemed to him wonderful and
angelic. Whenever that confused state of his feelings occurred
to him, while strolling, for instance, his breviary under his
arm, in the wide shade of the tamarind, he would stop short to
inhale with a strong snuffling noise a large quantity of snuff,
and shake his head profoundly. At the thought of what might
befall the illustrious senora presently, he became gradually
overcome with dismay. He voiced it in an agitated murmur. Even
Don Pepe lost his serenity for a moment. He leaned forward
stiffly.