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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Стр. 108/274
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After
setting
these
words
down
in
the
pocket-book
which
he
was
filling
up
for
the
benefit
of
his
sister
,
Decoud
lifted
his
head
to
listen
.
But
there
were
no
sounds
,
neither
in
the
room
nor
in
the
house
,
except
the
drip
of
the
water
from
the
filter
into
the
vast
earthenware
jar
under
the
wooden
stand
.
And
outside
the
house
there
was
a
great
silence
.
Decoud
lowered
his
head
again
over
the
pocket-book
.
"
I
am
not
running
away
,
you
understand
,
"
he
wrote
on
.
"
I
am
simply
going
away
with
that
great
treasure
of
silver
which
must
be
saved
at
all
costs
.
Pedro
Montero
from
the
Campo
and
the
revolted
garrison
of
Esmeralda
from
the
sea
are
converging
upon
it
.
That
it
is
there
lying
ready
for
them
is
only
an
accident
.
The
real
objective
is
the
San
Tome
mine
itself
,
as
you
may
well
imagine
;
otherwise
the
Occidental
Province
would
have
been
,
no
doubt
,
left
alone
for
many
weeks
,
to
be
gathered
at
leisure
into
the
arms
of
the
victorious
party
.
Don
Carlos
Gould
will
have
enough
to
do
to
save
his
mine
,
with
its
organization
and
its
people
;
this
'
Imperium
in
Imperio
,
'
this
wealth-producing
thing
,
to
which
his
sentimentalism
attaches
a
strange
idea
of
justice
.
He
holds
to
it
as
some
men
hold
to
the
idea
of
love
or
revenge
.
Unless
I
am
much
mistaken
in
the
man
,
it
must
remain
inviolate
or
perish
by
an
act
of
his
will
alone
.
A
passion
has
crept
into
his
cold
and
idealistic
life
.
A
passion
which
I
can
only
comprehend
intellectually
.
A
passion
that
is
not
like
the
passions
we
know
,
we
men
of
another
blood
.
But
it
is
as
dangerous
as
any
of
ours
.
"
His
wife
has
understood
it
,
too
.
That
is
why
she
is
such
a
good
ally
of
mine
.
She
seizes
upon
all
my
suggestions
with
a
sure
instinct
that
in
the
end
they
make
for
the
safety
of
the
Gould
Concession
.
And
he
defers
to
her
because
he
trusts
her
perhaps
,
but
I
fancy
rather
as
if
he
wished
to
make
up
for
some
subtle
wrong
,
for
that
sentimental
unfaithfulness
which
surrenders
her
happiness
,
her
life
,
to
the
seduction
of
an
idea
.
The
little
woman
has
discovered
that
he
lives
for
the
mine
rather
than
for
her
.
But
let
them
be
.
To
each
his
fate
,
shaped
by
passion
or
sentiment
.
The
principal
thing
is
that
she
has
backed
up
my
advice
to
get
the
silver
out
of
the
town
,
out
of
the
country
,
at
once
,
at
any
cost
,
at
any
risk
.
Don
Carlos
'
mission
is
to
preserve
unstained
the
fair
fame
of
his
mine
;
Mrs.
Gould
's
mission
is
to
save
him
from
the
effects
of
that
cold
and
overmastering
passion
,
which
she
dreads
more
than
if
it
were
an
infatuation
for
another
woman
.
Nostromo
's
mission
is
to
save
the
silver
.
The
plan
is
to
load
it
into
the
largest
of
the
Company
's
lighters
,
and
send
it
across
the
gulf
to
a
small
port
out
of
Costaguana
territory
just
on
the
other
side
the
Azuera
,
where
the
first
northbound
steamer
will
get
orders
to
pick
it
up
.
The
waters
here
are
calm
.
We
shall
slip
away
into
the
darkness
of
the
gulf
before
the
Esmeralda
rebels
arrive
;
and
by
the
time
the
day
breaks
over
the
ocean
we
shall
be
out
of
sight
,
invisible
,
hidden
by
Azuera
,
which
itself
looks
from
the
Sulaco
shore
like
a
faint
blue
cloud
on
the
horizon
.
"
The
incorruptible
Capataz
de
Cargadores
is
the
man
for
that
work
;
and
I
,
the
man
with
a
passion
,
but
without
a
mission
,
I
go
with
him
to
return
--
to
play
my
part
in
the
farce
to
the
end
,
and
,
if
successful
,
to
receive
my
reward
,
which
no
one
but
Antonia
can
give
me
.
"
I
shall
not
see
her
again
now
before
I
depart
.
I
left
her
,
as
I
have
said
,
by
Don
Jose
's
bedside
.
The
street
was
dark
,
the
houses
shut
up
,
and
I
walked
out
of
the
town
in
the
night
.
Not
a
single
street-lamp
had
been
lit
for
two
days
,
and
the
archway
of
the
gate
was
only
a
mass
of
darkness
in
the
vague
form
of
a
tower
,
in
which
I
heard
low
,
dismal
groans
,
that
seemed
to
answer
the
murmurs
of
a
man
's
voice
.
"
I
recognized
something
impassive
and
careless
in
its
tone
,
characteristic
of
that
Genoese
sailor
who
,
like
me
,
has
come
casually
here
to
be
drawn
into
the
events
for
which
his
scepticism
as
well
as
mine
seems
to
entertain
a
sort
of
passive
contempt
.
The
only
thing
he
seems
to
care
for
,
as
far
as
I
have
been
able
to
discover
,
is
to
be
well
spoken
of
.
An
ambition
fit
for
noble
souls
,
but
also
a
profitable
one
for
an
exceptionally
intelligent
scoundrel
.
Yes
.
His
very
words
,
'
To
be
well
spoken
of
.
Si
,
senor
.
'
He
does
not
seem
to
make
any
difference
between
speaking
and
thinking
.
Is
it
sheer
naiveness
or
the
practical
point
of
view
,
I
wonder
?
Exceptional
individualities
always
interest
me
,
because
they
are
true
to
the
general
formula
expressing
the
moral
state
of
humanity
.
"
He
joined
me
on
the
harbour
road
after
I
had
passed
them
under
the
dark
archway
without
stopping
.
It
was
a
woman
in
trouble
he
had
been
talking
to
.
Through
discretion
I
kept
silent
while
he
walked
by
my
side
.
After
a
time
he
began
to
talk
himself
.
It
was
not
what
I
expected
.
It
was
only
an
old
woman
,
an
old
lace-maker
,
in
search
of
her
son
,
one
of
the
street-sweepers
employed
by
the
municipality
.
Friends
had
come
the
day
before
at
daybreak
to
the
door
of
their
hovel
calling
him
out
.
He
had
gone
with
them
,
and
she
had
not
seen
him
since
;
so
she
had
left
the
food
she
had
been
preparing
half-cooked
on
the
extinct
embers
and
had
crawled
out
as
far
as
the
harbour
,
where
she
had
heard
that
some
town
mozos
had
been
killed
on
the
morning
of
the
riot
.
One
of
the
Cargadores
guarding
the
Custom
House
had
brought
out
a
lantern
,
and
had
helped
her
to
look
at
the
few
dead
left
lying
about
there
.
Now
she
was
creeping
back
,
having
failed
in
her
search
.
So
she
sat
down
on
the
stone
seat
under
the
arch
,
moaning
,
because
she
was
very
tired
.
The
Capataz
had
questioned
her
,
and
after
hearing
her
broken
and
groaning
tale
had
advised
her
to
go
and
look
amongst
the
wounded
in
the
patio
of
the
Casa
Gould
.
He
had
also
given
her
a
quarter
dollar
,
he
mentioned
carelessly
.
"
"'
Why
did
you
do
that
?
'
I
asked
.
'
Do
you
know
her
?
'
"'
No
,
senor
.
I
do
n't
suppose
I
have
ever
seen
her
before
.
How
should
I
?
She
has
not
probably
been
out
in
the
streets
for
years
.
She
is
one
of
those
old
women
that
you
find
in
this
country
at
the
back
of
huts
,
crouching
over
fireplaces
,
with
a
stick
on
the
ground
by
their
side
,
and
almost
too
feeble
to
drive
away
the
stray
dogs
from
their
cooking-pots
.
Caramba
!
I
could
tell
by
her
voice
that
death
had
forgotten
her
.
But
,
old
or
young
,
they
like
money
,
and
will
speak
well
of
the
man
who
gives
it
to
them
.
'
He
laughed
a
little
.
'
Senor
,
you
should
have
felt
the
clutch
of
her
paw
as
I
put
the
piece
in
her
palm
.
'
He
paused
.
'
My
last
,
too
,
'
he
added
.
