The Green Pope by Miguel Angel Asturias

Author:Miguel Angel Asturias [Asturias, Miguel Angel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780224005876
Amazon: 0224005871
Publisher: Jonathan Cape Ltd
Published: 1971-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

12

The crowd went in groups to Semírames, the Lucero property located where Adelaido, the father, had built it as far back as the age of Lino and Juan, and in spite of the years, the same as when it was first built; but many changes and renovations had been made to keep it standing, to enlarge it a little, and to re­place the material, not because it was growing old, because on the coast nothing grew old, everything wore out rapidly, and went, just like the people, almost ageless, from young years into death.

Of the house that Adelaido Lucero had built in Semírames with his own hands, painting the walls pink and the foundation yellow, the way Rosalia de Leon had been dressed the day he met her—pink blouse, yellow skirt—all that remained was the location. It grew as the family grew. They made it taller and when they repaired the roof and the main beams they had to change everything, and “lasterly,” as Juancho said, they had to add two wings so that there was room for the two families, his and Lino’s-Rosalío Cándido was a bachelor and agreed to live with them—although all that, which was the same as tearing the house down, could only be done after their mother was dead, for she would weep every time there was talk of knock­ing down and raising the roofs, enlarging the rooms, the hall­ways, raising the kitchen ceiling …

In groups, after the reading of the will, the crowd set out for Semírames. Some lighted the way with flashlights, others with lanterns, and others with beautiful wild pine torches. The escort accompanied the heirs, headed by Lino Lucero, who disap­peared, as did his brothers and the rest, into knots of embraces as soon as they arrived at the door of the house, where the steps leading up were a cascade of people waiting for them.

“Those gringos don’t know how to do things right,” the com­mandant was telling Toyana, “that’s why I wouldn’t leave my office. They should have had some kind of ceremony for the reading of the will, but everything with them is ‘don’t give a damn.’ “

“My good commandant wanted some pomp …”

“Keep that ‘my’ for yourself, Toyana, because I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Well, the lord commandant ..,”

“Not that either. Keep that ‘lord’ business for yourself too, because the Lord is in heaven by the right hand of God the Father.”

“Well, the commandant …”

“That’s the way I like it. No ‘my’ or ‘lord.’ And I didn’t want pomp, just a ceremony. I would have had the reading at the Military Post. But you know. That little judge who kills himself to be on their good side must have put the idea into their heads to do it there. And not even the way it should have been done. They should have had a moment of silence for the people who left the inheritance …”

The commandant shook Lino Lucero’s hand while Toyana went over to Bastiancito, whom she had talked to at the Mili­tary Post about the little item she had pawned.

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