In Evil Hour by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Author:Gabriel Garcia Marquez [Marquez, Gabriel Garcia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The mayor went in. Sitting in a corner of the orchestra section, he smoked two cigarettes before the film began. His gum was completely normal, but his body still suffered from the memory of the past nights, and the wear and tear of the analgesics and cigarettes brought on nausea.

The movie house was a courtyard surrounded by a cement wall, covered with zinc plates halfway up in the orchestra, and with grass that seemed to revive every morning, fertilized with chewing gum and cigarette butts. For a moment, the mayor saw the benches of unplaned wood floating in the air over the iron grating that separated the orchestra seats from the balcony, and he noticed a vertiginous undulation in the space on the back wall that was painted white, where the film was projected.

He felt better when the lights went out. Then the strident music of the loudspeaker ceased but the vibration of the electric generator set up in a wooden shack next to the projector became more intense.

Before the movie there were some advertising slides. A trooping of muffled whispers, confused steps, and suppressed laughter moved the darkness for brief moments. Momentarily surprised, the mayor thought that that clandestine entry had the character of a subversive act against Father Angel's rigid norms.

Although it might only have been because of the wake of cologne, he recognized the manager of the movie when he passed by.

"You bandit," he whispered, grabbing him by the arm. "You'll have to pay a special tax."

Laughing between his teeth, the manager took the next seat.

"It's a good picture," he said.

"As far as I'm concerned," the mayor said, "I'd like them all to be bad. There's nothing more boring than a moral movie."

Years before, no one had taken that censorship of the bells very seriously. But every Sunday, at the main mass, Father Ángel would point out from the pulpit and drive from the church the women who had contravened his warning during the week.

"The back door has been my salvation," the manager said.

The mayor began to follow the ancient newsreel. He spoke, pausing every time there was an item of interest on the screen.

"It's the same with everything," he said. "The priest won't give communion to women in short sleeves and they keep on wearing short sleeves, but they put on fake long sleeves before going to mass."

After the newsreel, the coming attractions for the next week were shown. They watched them in silence. At the end, the manager leaned over toward the mayor.

"Lieutenant," he whispered. "Buy this mess from me."

The mayor didn't take his eyes off the screen.

"It's not a good business."

"Not for me," the manager said. "But on the other hand, it would be a gold mine for you. It's obvious: the priest wouldn't come to you with the business of his little bells."

The mayor reflected before answering.

"It sounds good to me," he said.

But he didn't say anything concrete. He put his feet on the bench in front and lost himself in the turns of a tangled drama which in the end, according to what he thought, didn't deserve even four bells.

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