The Pearl--Chapter 1--Costello

The roosters had been crowing for some time, and the early pigs were already beginning their ceaseless turning of twigs and bits of wood to see whether anything to eat had been overlooked.

His blanket was over his nose to protect him from the dank air.

Kino watched with the detachment of God while a dusty ant frantically tried to escape the sand trap an ant lion had dug for him.

In his mind a new song had come, the Song of Evil, the music of the enemy, of any foe of the family, a savage, secret, dangerous melody, and underneath, the Song of the Family cried plaintively.

She, who was obedient and respectful and cheerful and patient, she could arch her back in child pain with hardly a cry.

And Kino saw her determination and the music of the family sounded in his head with a steely tone.

They made a quick soft- footed procession into the center of the town, first Juana and Kino, and behind them Juan Tomas and Apolonia, her big stomach jiggling with the strenuous pace, then all the neighbors with the children trotting on the flanks.

They slept at their posts in the shadow of the church so that no one crept in for consolation without their knowledge.

They knew his ignorance, his cruelty, his avarice, his appetites, his sins.

They knew his ignorance, his cruelty, his avarice, his appetites, his sins.

And, since early Mass was over and business was slow, they followed the procession, these endless searchers after perfect knowledge of their fellow men, to see what the fat lazy doctor would do about an indigent baby with a scorpion bite.

The scurrying procession came at last to the big gate in the wall of the doctor's house.

Kino hesitated a moment.

The glaring sun threw the bunched shadows of the people blackly on the white wall.

On his lap was a silver tray with a silver chocolate pot and a tiny cup of eggshell china, so delicate that it looked silly when he lifted it with his big hand, lifted it with the tips of thumb and forefinger and spread the other three fingers wide to get them out of the way.

His eyes rested in puffy little hammocks of flesh and his mouth drooped with discontent.

He was growing very stout, and his voice was hoarse with the fat that pressed on his throat.

The doctor had once for a short time been a part of the great world and his whole subsequent life was memory and longing for France.

At the gate the servant opened the door a trifle and looked out at the waiting people.