‘You talk like a priest.’ He came quickly awake, but under the tall dark trees he could see nothing. He said, ‘What nonsense you talk.’ ‘I am a very good Christian,’ the man said, stroking the priest’s foot. ‘I dare say. I wish I were.’ ‘Ah, you ought to be able to tell which people you can trust.’ He spat in a comradely way. ‘I have nothing to trust anyone with,’ the priest said. ‘Except these trousers—they are very torn. And this mule—it isn’t a good mule; you can see for yourself.’
