- Aug 2020
Even as he raised his large trembling hand to his nose little clouds of smoke dribbled through his fingers over the front of his coat. It may have been these constant showers of snuff which gave his ancient priestly garments their green faded look for the red handkerchief, blackened, as it always was, with the snuff-stains of a week, with which he tried to brush away the fallen grains, was quite inefficacious.
Also from wikipedia: Snuff is a smokeless tobacco made from ground or pulverised tobacco leaves. It is inhaled or "snuffed" into the nasal cavity, delivering a swift hit of nicotine and a lasting flavoured scent (especially if flavouring has been blended with the tobacco).
The scene of the room and the priest is unnerving, and it's contradictory in regard to what I think of a priest. But the garments are perhaps symbolic of that. Also he seems to be living poorly since he is so cold. Seems like the narrator is the only one taking care of him?