"Of course, monsignor. If you will come this way."
"I wanted to see," the Mayor whispered as they followed, "if they would demand any papers."
Rather as though he were a deacon arranging the altar before Mass the assistant laid out on a counter a variety of purple socks. "These are nylon," he said. "These pure silk. And these are cotton. The best Sea Island cotton, of course."
"I usually wear wool," Father Quixote said.
"Oh well, of course we have wool, but we usually find nylon or silk preferred. It's a question of tone -- silk or nylon has a richer purple tone. Wool rather blurs the purple."
"For me it's a question of warmth," Father Quixote said.
"I agree with this gentleman, monsignor," the Mayor interrupted quickly. "We want a purple which strikes the eye, as it were, from a distance."
The assistant looked puzzled. "From a distance?" he asked. "I don't quite. . ."
"We don't want the purple to look accidental. We certainly don't want a non-ecclesiastical purple."
"No one has ever found fault with our purple. Even the woollen purple," the assistant added with reluctance.
"For our purpose," the Mayor said, giving a warning frown at Father Quixote, "the nylon is much the best. It certainly has a shimmer. . ." He added, "And then, of course, we shall want. . . what do you call that sort of bib monsignors wear?"
"I suppose you mean the pechera. I imagine you will need that in nylon too so as to match the socks."
"I have agreed about the socks," Father Quixote said, "but I absolutely refuse to wear a purple pechera."
"Only in emergency, monsignor," the Mayor argued.
The assistant looked at them with deepening suspicion.
"I can't see what emergency. . ."
"I've explained that to you -- the state of the roads these days. . ."
While the assistant did up the package, which he closed carefully with a scotch tape of the same ecclesiastical purple as the socks and the pechera, the Mayor, who had obviously taken a dislike to the man, began a needling conversation. "I suppose," he said, "you supply pretty well everything the Church needs -- in the way of decoration."
"If you mean vestments, well, yes."
"And hats -- birettas and the like?"
"Of course."
"And cardinals' hats? The monsignor has not reached that stage yet, of course. I'm just asking for interest. . . One must be prepared. . ."
"Cardinals' hats are always received from His Holiness."
Rocinante had one of her moods and took a little time to start. "I'm afraid I went too far," the Mayor said, "and aroused suspicion."
"What do you mean?"
"That man came to the door. I think he took the number of the car."
"I don't want to be unkind," Father Quixote said, "but he looked the kind of man who might belong to Opus Dei."
"They probably own the shop."
"Of course I'm sure they do a lot of good in their own way. Like the Generalissimo did."
"I would like to believe in Hell if only to put the members of Opus Dei there with the Generalissimo."
"He has my prayers," Father Quixote said and stiffened his fingers round the wheel of Rocinante.
"He'll need more than your prayers if there's a Hell."
"Since there is a Hell it will need only the prayers of one just man to save any of us. Like Sodom and Gomorrah," Father Quixote added, with some uncertainty whether he had got the statistics right.
It was a very hot evening. The Mayor suggested that they should have dinner at the Poncio Pilato, but Father Quixote was firm in his refusal. He said, "Pontius Pilate was an evil man. The world has almost canonized him because he was a neutral, but one cannot be neutral when it comes to choosing between good and evil."
"He was not neutral," the Mayor retorted. "He was nonaligned -- like Fidel Castro -- with a slant in the right direction."
"What do you mean by the right direction?"
"The Roman Empire."
"You -- a Communist -- support the Roman Empire?"
"Marx tells us that to arrive at the possibility of developing a revolutionary proletariat we have to pass through the stage of capitalism. The Roman Empire was developing into a capitalist society. The Jews were held back by their religion from ever becoming industrialists, so. . ."
The Mayor then suggested that they eat at the Homo de Santa Teresa: "I don't know about her oven, but she was a saint very much admired by your friend, the Generalissimo." Father Quixote could see no reason why food and religion had to be linked together, and he was irritated when the Mayor then proposed the San Antonio de la Florida, a saint of whom Father Quixote had no knowledge. He suspected the Mayor of teasing him. In the end they ate a rather bad meal at Los Porches where the open air made up a little for the deficiencies of the menu.
They killed one bottle of wine while they waited and a second with their meal, but when the Mayor suggested that they complete the Holy Trinity, Father Quixote refused. He said he was tired, the siesta had done him no good, but these were excuses -- it was really his dream that weighed on him. He longed to communicate it, though Sancho would never understand the distress it had caused him. If only he had been at home. . . and yet what difference would that have made? Teresa would have said, "It was only a dream, father," and Father Herrera. . . It was an odd thing, but he knew that he could never communicate with Father Herrera on anything which touched the religion they were supposed to share. Father Herrera was in favour of the new Mass, and one evening at the end of a rather silent dinner Father Quixote had been unwise enough to tell him how at the end of Mass he had the habit of silently speaking the words of St John's Gospel which had been removed from the Liturgy.
"Ah, poetry," Father Herrera had replied with a note of disapproval.
"You don't like St John?"
"The Gospel which goes by his name is not one of my favourites. I prefer St Matthew."
Father Quixote had found himself in a reckless mood that evening and he felt sure that an account of their conversation would be sent next day to the bishop. Alas! Too late. A monsignor can only be demoted by the Pope himself. He had answered, "I have always thought that the Gospel of St Matthew could be distinguished from the others as the Gospel of fear."
"Why? What an extraordinary idea, monsignor."
"In St Matthew there are fifteen references to Hell."
"What of it?"
"To govern by fear. . . surely God can leave that to Stalin or Hitler. I believe in the virtue of courage. I don't believe in the virtue of cowardice."
"A child has to be educated through discipline. And we are all children, monsignor."
"I don't think a loving parent would educate by fear."
"I hope this is not what you teach your parishioners."