Ностромо
Chapter 5
Andonlythepriestcontinuedhispacing,flingingroundtheskirtofhissoutaneateachendofhisbeat.Decoudmurmuredtohimironically:“Thosegentlementalkabouttheirgods.”
FatherCorbelanstoppedshort,lookedatthejournalistofSulacofixedlyforamoment,shruggedhisshouldersslightly,andresumedhisploddingwalkofanobstinatetraveller.
AndnowtheEuropeansweredroppingofffromthegrouparoundCharlesGouldtilltheAdministradoroftheGreatSilverMinecouldbeseeninhiswholelanklength,fromheadtofoot,leftstrandedbytheebbingtideofhisguestsonthegreatsquareofcarpet,asitwereamulti-colouredshoalofflowersandarabesquesunderhisbrownboots.FatherCorbelanapproachedtherocking-chairofDonJoseAvellanos.
“Come,brother,”hesaid,withkindlybrusquenessandatouchofrelievedimpatienceamanmayfeelattheendofaperfectlyuselessceremony.“AlaCasa!AlaCasa!Thishasbeenalltalk.LetusnowgoandthinkandprayforguidancefromHeaven.”
Herolledhisblackeyesupwards.Bythesideofthefraildiplomatist—thelifeandsouloftheparty—heseemedgigantic,withagleamoffanaticismintheglance.Butthevoiceoftheparty,or,rather,itsmouthpiece,the“sonDecoud”fromParis,turnedjournalistforthesakeofAntonia’seyes,knewverywellthatitwasnotso,thathewasonlyastrenuouspriestwithoneidea,fearedbythewomenandexecratedbythemenofthepeople.
