The Power and the Glory

by Graham Greene

‘What will you charge, father?’ ‘Well—two pesos is the usual charge.’ He thought: I must hire two mules and a guide. It will cost me fifty pesos to reach Las Casas. Five pesos for the Mass—that left forty-five. ‘We are very poor here, father,’ she haggled gently. ‘I have four children myself. Eight pesos is a lot of money.’ ‘Four children are a lot of children—if the priest was here only three years ago.’ He could hear authority, the old parish intonation coming back into his voice, as if the last years had been a dream and he had never really been away from the Guilds, the Children of Mary, and the daily Mass. He asked sharply, ‘How many children are there here—unbaptized?’ ‘Perhaps a hundred, father.’ He made calculations: there was no need to arrive in Las Casas then as a beggar; he could buy a decent suit of clothes, find a respectable lodging, settle down … He said, ‘You must pay one peso fifty a head.’ ‘One peso, father. We are very poor.’ ‘One peso fifty.’ A voice from years back said firmly into his ear: they don’t value what they don’t pay for.