his hands are trembling as if from ague and for all I know from Pascalian ache for the equation of the Absolute or maybe Pascal scared him and the other Jesuits with his bloody “Provincial Letters,”
BUT THE POOR LITTLE PRIEST, DARK, SHALL WE SAY swart, or swartz, and very small and thin, his hands are trembling as if from ague and for all I know from Pascalian ache for the equation of the Absolute or maybe Pascal scared him and the other Jesuits with his bloody “Provincial Letters,” but in any case I look into his dark brown eyes, I see his weird little parroty understanding of everything and of me too, and I pound my collarbone with my finger and say:
“I’m Catholic too.”
He nods.
“I wear the Sacred Queen and also St. Benedict.”
He nods.
He is such a little guy you could blow him away with one religious yell like “O Seigneur!” (Oh Lord!)
