PART SECOND: THE ISABELS
5. CHAPTER FIVE
(continued)
The engineer-in-chief had not finished telling his amusing story.
The humours of railway building in South America appealed to his
keen appreciation of the absurd, and he told his instances of
ignorant prejudice and as ignorant cunning very well. Now, Mrs.
Gould gave him all her attention as he walked by her side
escorting the ladies out of the room. Finally all three passed
unnoticed through the glass doors in the gallery. Only a tall
priest stalking silently in the noise of the sala checked himself
to look after them. Father Corbelan, whom Decoud had seen from
the balcony turning into the gateway of the Casa Gould, had
addressed no one since coming in. The long, skimpy soutane
accentuated the tallness of his stature; he carried his powerful
torso thrown forward; and the straight, black bar of his joined
eyebrows, the pugnacious outline of the bony face, the white spot
of a scar on the bluish shaven cheeks (a testimonial to his
apostolic zeal from a party of unconverted Indians), suggested
something unlawful behind his priesthood, the idea of a chaplain
of bandits.
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.
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