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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Стр. 104/274
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"'
Do
you
know
,
'
I
cried
,
'
what
surrender
means
to
you
,
to
your
women
,
to
your
children
,
to
your
property
?
'
"
I
declaimed
for
five
minutes
without
drawing
breath
,
it
seems
to
me
,
harping
on
our
best
chances
,
on
the
ferocity
of
Montero
,
whom
I
made
out
to
be
as
great
a
beast
as
I
have
no
doubt
he
would
like
to
be
if
he
had
intelligence
enough
to
conceive
a
systematic
reign
of
terror
.
And
then
for
another
five
minutes
or
more
I
poured
out
an
impassioned
appeal
to
their
courage
and
manliness
,
with
all
the
passion
of
my
love
for
Antonia
.
For
if
ever
man
spoke
well
,
it
would
be
from
a
personal
feeling
,
denouncing
an
enemy
,
defending
himself
,
or
pleading
for
what
really
may
be
dearer
than
life
.
My
dear
girl
,
I
absolutely
thundered
at
them
.
It
seemed
as
if
my
voice
would
burst
the
walls
asunder
,
and
when
I
stopped
I
saw
all
their
scared
eyes
looking
at
me
dubiously
.
And
that
was
all
the
effect
I
had
produced
!
Only
Don
Jose
's
head
had
sunk
lower
and
lower
on
his
breast
.
I
bent
my
ear
to
his
withered
lips
,
and
made
out
his
whisper
,
something
like
,
'
In
God
's
name
,
then
,
Martin
,
my
son
!
'
I
do
n't
know
exactly
.
There
was
the
name
of
God
in
it
,
I
am
certain
.
It
seems
to
me
I
have
caught
his
last
breath
--
the
breath
of
his
departing
soul
on
his
lips
.
"
He
lives
yet
,
it
is
true
.
I
have
seen
him
since
;
but
it
was
only
a
senile
body
,
lying
on
its
back
,
covered
to
the
chin
,
with
open
eyes
,
and
so
still
that
you
might
have
said
it
was
breathing
no
longer
.
I
left
him
thus
,
with
Antonia
kneeling
by
the
side
of
the
bed
,
just
before
I
came
to
this
Italian
's
posada
,
where
the
ubiquitous
death
is
also
waiting
.
But
I
know
that
Don
Jose
has
really
died
there
,
in
the
Casa
Gould
,
with
that
whisper
urging
me
to
attempt
what
no
doubt
his
soul
,
wrapped
up
in
the
sanctity
of
diplomatic
treaties
and
solemn
declarations
,
must
have
abhorred
.
I
had
exclaimed
very
loud
,
'
There
is
never
any
God
in
a
country
where
men
will
not
help
themselves
.
'
"
Meanwhile
,
Don
Juste
had
begun
a
pondered
oration
whose
solemn
effect
was
spoiled
by
the
ridiculous
disaster
to
his
beard
.
I
did
not
wait
to
make
it
out
.
He
seemed
to
argue
that
Montero
's
(
he
called
him
The
General
)
intentions
were
probably
not
evil
,
though
,
he
went
on
,
'
that
distinguished
man
'
(
only
a
week
ago
we
used
to
call
him
a
gran
'
bestia
)
'
was
perhaps
mistaken
as
to
the
true
means
.
'
As
you
may
imagine
,
I
did
n't
stay
to
hear
the
rest
.
I
know
the
intentions
of
Montero
's
brother
,
Pedrito
,
the
guerrillero
,
whom
I
exposed
in
Paris
,
some
years
ago
,
in
a
cafe
frequented
by
South
American
students
,
where
he
tried
to
pass
himself
off
for
a
Secretary
of
Legation
.
He
used
to
come
in
and
talk
for
hours
,
twisting
his
felt
hat
in
his
hairy
paws
,
and
his
ambition
seemed
to
become
a
sort
of
Duc
de
Morny
to
a
sort
of
Napoleon
.
Already
,
then
,
he
used
to
talk
of
his
brother
in
inflated
terms
.
He
seemed
fairly
safe
from
being
found
out
,
because
the
students
,
all
of
the
Blanco
families
,
did
not
,
as
you
may
imagine
,
frequent
the
Legation
.
It
was
only
Decoud
,
a
man
without
faith
and
principles
,
as
they
used
to
say
,
that
went
in
there
sometimes
for
the
sake
of
the
fun
,
as
it
were
to
an
assembly
of
trained
monkeys
.
I
know
his
intentions
.
I
have
seen
him
change
the
plates
at
table
.
Whoever
is
allowed
to
live
on
in
terror
,
I
must
die
the
death
.
"
No
,
I
did
n't
stay
to
the
end
to
hear
Don
Juste
Lopez
trying
to
persuade
himself
in
a
grave
oration
of
the
clemency
and
justice
,
and
honesty
,
and
purity
of
the
brothers
Montero
.
I
went
out
abruptly
to
seek
Antonia
.
I
saw
her
in
the
gallery
.
As
I
opened
the
door
,
she
extended
to
me
her
clasped
hands
.
"'
What
are
they
doing
in
there
?
'
she
asked
.
"'
Talking
,
'
I
said
,
with
my
eyes
looking
into
hers
.
