“But if you ask me for that personal God invented
by religions, in the likeness of a man, who brought
the world out of nothing, who directs our actions,
who classifies souls according to their merits, and
commissions Sons to descend into the world to redeem
it, I say seek for Him in that immensity, see where
He hides His littleness. But even if you were
immortal you might spend millions of years passing
from one star to another without ever finding the
corner where He hides His deposed despotic majesty.
This vindictive and capricious God arose in men’s
brains, and the brain is a human being’s most
recent organ, the last to develop itself. When
man invented God the world had existed millions of
years.”
On the morning of Corpus the first person Gabriel
saw on leaving the cloister was Don Antolin, who was
looking over his tickets, placing them in line in
front of him on the stone balustrade.
“This is a great day,” said Luna, wishing
to smooth down Silver Stick. “You are preparing
for a great crowd; no doubt many strangers will come.”
Don Antolin looked intently at Gabriel, evidently
doubting his sincerity; but seeing that he was not
laughing, he answered with a certain satisfaction.
“The feast is not beginning badly; there are
a great many who wish to see our treasures. Ay,
son! indeed we want it badly. You who rejoice
in our troubles may be satisfied. We live in horrible
straits. Our feast of Corpus is worth very little
compared with former times; but all the same, what
economies we have had to make in the Obreria, to provide
the four ochavos[1] that the extra festivity will cost!”
[Footnote 1: Ochavo—small Spanish
brass coin, value two maravedis.]
Don Antolin remained silent for some time, still looking
intently at Luna, as though some extraordinary idea
had just occurred to him. At first he frowned
as though he were rejecting it, but little by little
his face lit up with a malicious smile.
“By the way, Gabriel,” he said in a honeyed
tone which contained something very aggressive, “I
remember at the time of the monument in Holy Week
you spoke to me of your wish to earn some money for
your brother. Now you have an opportunity.
It will not be much; still it will be something.
Would you care to be one of those who carry the platform
of the Sacrament?”
Guessing the wish of the malicious priest to annoy
him, Gabriel was on the point of answering haughtily,
but suddenly he was tempted by the wish to foil Silver
Stick by accepting his proposal; he wished to astound
him by acceding to his absurd idea; besides, he thought
that this would be a sacrifice worthy of the generosity
with which his brother treated him. Even though
he could not assist with much money, he could show
his wish to work, and the scruples of his self-love
vanished before the hope of carrying home a couple
of pesetas.
