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"Good evening," she said. "See how great God is to have made the world so beautiful."
"They're going to take me away," she told herself, "but I will leave them with all the world's guilt to carry on their shoulders."
"Think, then, how beautiful paradise must be," the priest said, but Berta could see her arrow had struck home, and that now he was struggling to remain calm.
"I'm not sure about that, I'm not even sure it exists. Have you been there yourself, Father?"
"Not yet. But I've been in hell and I know how terrible that is, however attractive it might appear from the outside."
Berta understood him to mean Viscos.
"You're mistaken, Father. You were in paradise, but you didn't recognize it. It's the same with most people in this world; they seek suffering in the most joyous of places because they think they are unworthy of happiness."
"It appears that all your years spent sitting out here have brought you some wisdom."
"It's been a long time since anyone bothered to come and chat with me, and now, oddly enough, everyone has discovered that I still exist. Just imagine, Father, last night, the hotel landlady and the mayor's wife honored me with a visit; and now here's the parish priest doing the same--have I suddenly become such an important person?"
"Very much so," the priest replied. "The most important person in the village."
"Have I come into money or something?"
"Ten gold bars. Future generations of men, women and children will give thanks to you. It's even possible they'll put up a statue in your honor."
"I'd prefer a fountain, because as well as being decorative, it quenches people's thirst and soothes those who are worried."
"A fountain it will be then. You have my word on it."
Berta thought it was time to put an end to this farce and come straight to the point.
"I know everything, Father. You are condemning an innocent woman who cannot fight for her life. Damn you, sir, and damn this village and all who live in it."
"Damned indeed," the priest said. "For more than twenty years, I've tried to bless this village, but no one heard my calls. For the same twenty years, I've tried to inculcate Good into men's hearts, until I finally realized that God had chosen me to be his left arm, and to show the evil of which men are capable. Perhaps in this way they will become afraid and accept the faith."
Berta felt like crying, but controlled the impulse.
"Fine words, Father, but empty. They're just an excuse for cruelty and injustice."
"Unlike all the others, I'm not doing this for the money. I know that the gold is cursed, like this whole place, and that it won't bring happiness to anyone. I am simply doing as God has asked me. Or rather, as he commanded me, in answer to my prayers."
"There's no point arguing further," Berta thought, as the priest put his hand in his pocket and brought out some pills.
"You won't feel a thing," he said. "Let's go inside."
"Neither you nor anyone else in this village will set foot in my house while I'm still alive. Perhaps later tonight the door will stand wide open, but not now."
The priest gestured to one of the men, who approached carrying a plastic
bottle.
"Take these pills. You'll soon fall asleep, and when you wake up, you'll be in heaven, with your husband."
"I've always been with my husband, and despite suffering from insomnia, I never take pills to get to sleep."
"So much the better; they'll take effect at once."
The sun had disappeared, and darkness was beginning to fall on the valley, the church, and on the entire village.
"And what if I don't want to take them?"
