Page 226 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

‘Very well,’ he agreed with the slightly weary noncha-
lance of a man well used to these passages. ‘But is it perhaps
that you have not discovered yet what is the God of my wor-
ship? It was an easier task with our Barrios.’
The priest suppressed a gesture of discouragement. ‘You
believe neither in stick nor stone,’ he said.
‘Nor bottle,’ added Decoud without stirring. ‘Neither
does the other of your reverence’s confidants. I mean the
Capataz of the Cargadores. He does not drink. Your read-
ing of my character does honour to your perspicacity. But
why call me a heathen?’
‘True,’ retorted the priest. ‘You are ten times worse. A
miracle could not convert you.’
‘I certainly do not believe in miracles,’ said Decoud, qui-
etly. Father Corbelan shrugged his high, broad shoulders
doubtfully.
‘A sort of Frenchman—godless—a materialist,’ he pro-
nounced slowly, as if weighing the terms of a careful analysis.
‘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 re-
sumed 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 wor-
ship neglected to read the last number of the Porvenir? I
assure you it is just like the others. On the general policy it