Under the Volcano - Malcolm Lowry [188]
"And the off of man here what there will be let the Lord be with us all the time," bellowed the sailor, "there's my religion spoke in those few words. Mozart was the man that writ the Bible. Mozart wrote the old testimony. Stay by that and you'll be all right. Mozart was a lawyer."
--"Without you I am cast out, severed. I am an outcast from myself, a shadow"--
"Weber's my name. They captured me in Flanders. You would doubt me more or less. But if they captured me now!--When Alabama came through, we came through with heels flying. We ask nobody no questions because down there. We don't run. Christ, if you want lem go ahead and take 'em. But if you want Alabama, that bunch." The Consul looked up; the man, Weber, was singing. "I'm just a country b-hoy. I don't know a damn thing." He saluted his reflection in the mirror. "Soldat de la Légion Étrangère."
--"There I met some people I must tell you about, for perhaps the thought of these people held before us like a prayer for absolution may strengthen us once more to nourish the flame which can never go out, but burns now so fearfully low."
--"Yes sir. Mozart was a lawyer. And don't dispute me no more. Here to the off of God. I would dispute my incomprehensible stuff !"
"--de la Légion Étrangère. Vous n'avez pas de nation, ha France est votre mère. Thirty miles out of Tangier, banging in pretty well. Captain Dupont's orderly... He was a son of a bitch from Texas. Never will tell his name. It was Fort Adamant."
"--¡Mar Cantábrico!--"
--"You are one born to walk in the light. Plunging your head out of the white sky you flounder in an alien element. You think you are lost, but it is not so, for the spirits of light will help you and bear you up in spite of yourself and beyond all opposition you may offer. Do I sound mad? I sometimes think I am. Seize the immense potential strength you fight, which is within your body and ever so much more strongly within your soul, restore to me the sanity that left when you forgot me, when you sent me away, when you turned your footsteps towards a different path, a stranger route which you have trod apart..."
"He turreted out this underground place here. Fifth squadron of the French Foreign Legion. They give 'em the spreadeagle. Soldat de la Légion Étrangère." Weber saluted himself in the mirror again and clicked his heels. "The sun parches the lips and they crack. Oh Christ, it's a shame: the horses all go away kicking in the dust. I wouldn't have it. They plugged 'em too."
--"I am perhaps God's loneliest mortal. I do not have the companionship in drink you find, however unsatisfactory. My wretchedness is locked up within me. You used to cry to me to help you. The plea I send to you is far more desperate. Help me, yes, save me, from all that is enveloping, threatening, trembling, and ready to pour over my head."
"--man what wrote the Bible. You got to study deep down to know that Mozart writ the Bible. But I'll tell you, you can't think with me. I've got an awful mind," the sailor was telling the Consul. "And I hope you the same. I hope you will have good. Only to hell on me," he added, and suddenly despairing, this sailor rose and reeled out.
"American no good for me no. American no good for Mexican. These donkey, these man," the pimp said contemplatively, staring after him, and then at the legionnaire, who was examining a pistol that lay in his palm like a bright jewel. "All my, Mexican man. All tine England man, my friend Mexican." He summoned A Few Fleas and, ordering more drinks, indicated the Consul would pay. "I don't care son of a bitch American no-good for you, or for me. My Mexican, all tine, all tine, all tine: eh?" he declared.
"¿Quiere usted