Pete brought Father Gabriel his tea. “What’s this?” asked Father Gabriel.
“It’s your tea, Father.”
Father Gabriel slammed shut the thick book on his desk. A wisp of dust puffed up from it. “So,” he said, “now you’re in on it too!” He had begun using words like “it” and “they” with little sense of what the words referred to. “They’re poisoning the water,” said Father Gabriel. “I won’t drink it.”
“But Father, nobody can do without water.”
“I can do without anything.”
Sometimes “they” meant Hindus. Father Gabriel had become convinced that the Hindus were trying to make everyone else look bad. He professed this belief in his sermons. “They think they’re so all-fire holy,” he said with a sneer, “living on nothing but a few grains of rice and some orange seeds. And when they get old they go off with nothing but a begging bowl and sit by the side of the road until the cows come home. God wants us to do with little in this world, yes, but he does not ask us to be bums and hobos. But what do they know of God—they, who do not believe in one God? They think birds are gods. Imagine—birds! And what do you expect from people who think it makes them holy to go around without shoes? Their clothing consists of nothing but turbans and little swatches of fabric they throw over themselves that might slip off at any minute. That’s not being modest, it’s being pagan. What else would you call it—the gurus with their devil smiles, and the wild dances with the drums and the pipes and the snake-charmers. It’s pagan, I tell you.”
Father Gabriel’s behavior grew stranger by the day. His ill tempers gave way to bouts of joy, then shifted back again. During the happy periods, one would often find him trying to stand on his head. Whether dark or light of mood, he paced back and forth without stopping, even when he was presiding over services. He ran up and down the stairs to the steeple at odd hours and swung with glee on the ropes that rang the bells.
Pete found Brother James in the bakery. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” said Brother James. “These cakes bring in money. You might think they’re nothing, but if it weren’t for my cakes you would starve.”
“Father Gabriel thinks you’re putting something in the water,” said Pete. “I would like to tell him that is not true.”
“Thank you for your concern, Brother Peter. You may rest assured that matters are in hand.”
“I know you have all been meeting without me. What are you up to?”
“How dare you speak to me in this way. You will have to answer for it. Don’t think you won’t.”