It must have been hours later that he ceased to climb: it was evening and forest: monkeys crashed invisibly among the trees with an effect of clumsiness and recklessness, and what were probably snakes hissed away like match-flames through the grass. He wasn't afraid of them: they were a form of life, and he could feel life retreating from him all the time. It wasn't only people who were going: even the animals and the reptiles moved away: presently he would be left alone with nothing but his own breath. He began to recite to himself: O God, I have loved the beauty of Thy house, and the smell of soaked and rotting leaves and the hot night and the darkness made him believe that he was in a mine shaft, going down into the earth to bury himself. Presently he would find his grave.
When a man came towards him carrying a gun he did [149] nothing at all. The man approached cautiously: you didn't expect to find another person underground. He said: Who are you? with his gun ready.
The priest gave his name to a stranger for the first time in ten years: Father So-and-so, because he was tired and there seemed no object in going on living.
A priest? the man asked, with astonishment. Where have you come from?
The fever lifted again: a little reality seeped back: he said: It is all right. I will not bring you any trouble. I am going on. He screwed up all his remaining energy and walked on: a puzzled face penetrated his fever, and receded: there were going to be no more hostages, he assured himself aloud. Footsteps followed him, he was like a dangerous man you see safely off an estate before you go home. He repeated aloud: It is all right. I am not staying here. I want nothing.
Father ... the voice said, humbly and anxiously.
I will go right away. He tried to run and came suddenly out of the forest onto a long slope of grass. There were lights and huts, below, and up here at the edge of the forest a big whitewashed building-a barracks? were there soldiers? He said: If I have been seen I will give myself up. I assure you no one shall get into trouble because of me.
Father … He was racked with his headache; he stumbled and put his hand against the wall for support. He felt immeasurably tired. He asked: The barracks?
Father, the voice said, puzzled and worried, it is our church.
A church? The priest ran his hands incredulously over the wall like a blind man trying to recognize a particular house, but he was too tired to feel anything at all. He heard the man with the gun babbling out of sight: Such an honour, father. The bell must be rung ... and he sat down suddenly on the rain-drenched grass, and leaning his head against the white wall, he fell asleep, with home behind his shoulder-blades.
His dream was full of a jangle of cheerful noise.
PART III
Chapter One
THE middle-aged woman sat on the veranda darning socks: she wore pince-nez and she had kicked off her shoes for comfort. Mr. Lehr, her brother, read a New York magazine-it was three weeks old, but that didn't really matter. the whole scene was like peace.
Just help yourself to water, Miss Lehr said, when you want it.
A huge earthenware jar stood in a cool corner with a ladle and a tumbler. Don't you have to boil the water? the priest asked.
Oh, no, our water's fresh and clean, Miss Lehr said primly, as if she couldn't answer for anybody else's.
Best water in the state, her brother said. The shiny magazine leaves crackled as they turned, covered with photographs of big clean-shaven mastiff jowls-Senators and Congressmen. Pasture stretched away beyond the garden fence, undulating gently towards the next mountain range, and a tulipan tree blossomed and faded daily at the gate.
You certainly are looking better, father, Miss Lehr said. They both spoke rather guttural English with slight American accents-Mr. Lehr had left Germany when he was a boy to escape military service: he had a shrewd lined idealistic face. You needed to be shrewd in this country if you were going to retain any ideals at alclass="underline" he was cunning in the defence of the good life.
Oh, Mr. Lehr said. He only needed to rest up a few days. He was quite incurious about this man whom his foreman had brought in on a mule in a state of collapse three days before. All he knew the priest had told him: that was another thing this country taught you-never to ask questions or to look ahead.
Soon I can go on, the priest said.
[154] You don't have to hurry, Miss Lehr said, turning over her brother's sock, looking for holes.
It's so quiet here.
Oh, Mr. Lehr said, we've had our troubles. He turned a page and said: That Senator Huey Long-they ought to control him. It doesn't do any good insulting other countries.
Haven't they tried to take your land away?
The idealistic face turned his way: it wore a look of innocent craft. Oh, I gave them as much as they asked for-five hundred acres of barren land. I saved a lot on taxes. I never could get anything to grow there. He nodded towards the veranda posts. That was the last real trouble. See the bullet-holes. Villas men.
The priest got up again and drank more water: he wasn't very thirsty: he was satisfying a sense of luxury. He asked: How long will it take me to get to Las Casas?
You could do it in four days, Mr. Lehr said.
Not in his condition, Miss Lehr said. Six
It will seem so strange, the priest said. A city with churches, a university ...
Of course, Mr. Lehr said, my sister and I are Lutherans. We don't hold with your church, father. Too much luxury, it seems to me, while the people starve.
Miss Lehr said: Now, dear, it isn't the father's fault.
Luxury? the priest said: he stood by the earthenware jar, glass in hand, trying to collect his thoughts, staring out over the long and peaceful grassy slopes. You mean ...? Perhaps Mr. Lehr was right: he had lived very easily once, and here he was, already settling down to idleness again.
All the gold leaf in the churches.
It's often just paint, you know, the priest murmured conciliatingly. He thought: Yes, three days and I've done nothing. Nothing, and he looked down at his feet elegantly shod in a pair of Mr. Lehr's shoes, his legs in Mr. Lehr's spare trousers. Mr. Lehr said: He won't mind my speaking my mind. We're all Christians here.
Of course. I like to hear ...
It seems to me you people make a lot of fuss about inessentials.
Yes? You mean ...
[155] Fasting ... fish on Friday ...
Yes, he remembered like something in his childhood that there had been a time when he had observed these rules. He said: After all, Mr. Lehr, you're a German. A great military nation.
I was never a soldier. I disapprove ...
Yes, of course, but still you understand-discipline is necessary. Drills may be no good in battle, but they form the character. Otherwise you get-well, people like me. He looked down with sudden hatred at the shoes-they were like the badge of a deserter. People like me, he repeated with fury.
There was a good deal of embarrassment: Miss Lehr began to say something: Why, father ... but Mr. Lehr forestalled her, laying down the magazine and its load of well-shaved politicians. He said in his German-American voice, with its guttural precision: Well, I guess it's time for a bath now. Will you be coming, father? and the priest obediently followed him into their common bedroom. He took off Mr. Lehr's clothes and put on Mr. Lehr's mackintosh and followed Mr. Lehr barefoot across the veranda and the field beyond. The day before he had asked apprehensively: Are there no snakes? and Mr. Lehr had grunted contemptuously that if there were any snakes they'd pretty soon get out of the way. Mr. Lehr and his sister had combined to drive out savagery by simply ignoring anything that conflicted with an ordinary German-American homestead. It was, in its way, an admirable way of life.