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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Стр. 164/274
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Monygham
could
by
no
manner
of
means
forget
the
zeal
of
Father
Beron
,
or
his
face
,
or
the
pitiless
,
monotonous
voice
in
which
he
pronounced
the
words
,
"
Will
you
confess
now
?
"
This
memory
did
not
make
him
shudder
,
but
it
had
made
of
him
what
he
was
in
the
eyes
of
respectable
people
,
a
man
careless
of
common
decencies
,
something
between
a
clever
vagabond
and
a
disreputable
doctor
.
But
not
all
respectable
people
would
have
had
the
necessary
delicacy
of
sentiment
to
understand
with
what
trouble
of
mind
and
accuracy
of
vision
Dr.
Monygham
,
medical
officer
of
the
San
Tome
mine
,
remembered
Father
Beron
,
army
chaplain
,
and
once
a
secretary
of
a
military
commission
.
After
all
these
years
Dr.
Monygham
,
in
his
rooms
at
the
end
of
the
hospital
building
in
the
San
Tome
gorge
,
remembered
Father
Beron
as
distinctly
as
ever
.
He
remembered
that
priest
at
night
,
sometimes
,
in
his
sleep
.
On
such
nights
the
doctor
waited
for
daylight
with
a
candle
lighted
,
and
walking
the
whole
length
of
his
rooms
to
and
fro
,
staring
down
at
his
bare
feet
,
his
arms
hugging
his
sides
tightly
.
He
would
dream
of
Father
Beron
sitting
at
the
end
of
a
long
black
table
,
behind
which
,
in
a
row
,
appeared
the
heads
,
shoulders
,
and
epaulettes
of
the
military
members
,
nibbling
the
feather
of
a
quill
pen
,
and
listening
with
weary
and
impatient
scorn
to
the
protestations
of
some
prisoner
calling
heaven
to
witness
of
his
innocence
,
till
he
burst
out
,
"
What
's
the
use
of
wasting
time
over
that
miserable
nonsense
!
Let
me
take
him
outside
for
a
while
.
"
And
Father
Beron
would
go
outside
after
the
clanking
prisoner
,
led
away
between
two
soldiers
.
Such
interludes
happened
on
many
days
,
many
times
,
with
many
prisoners
.
When
the
prisoner
returned
he
was
ready
to
make
a
full
confession
,
Father
Beron
would
declare
,
leaning
forward
with
that
dull
,
surfeited
look
which
can
be
seen
in
the
eyes
of
gluttonous
persons
after
a
heavy
meal
.
The
priest
's
inquisitorial
instincts
suffered
but
little
from
the
want
of
classical
apparatus
of
the
Inquisition
At
no
time
of
the
world
's
history
have
men
been
at
a
loss
how
to
inflict
mental
and
bodily
anguish
upon
their
fellow-creatures
.
This
aptitude
came
to
them
in
the
growing
complexity
of
their
passions
and
the
early
refinement
of
their
ingenuity
.
But
it
may
safely
be
said
that
primeval
man
did
not
go
to
the
trouble
of
inventing
tortures
.
He
was
indolent
and
pure
of
heart
.
He
brained
his
neighbour
ferociously
with
a
stone
axe
from
necessity
and
without
malice
.
The
stupidest
mind
may
invent
a
rankling
phrase
or
brand
the
innocent
with
a
cruel
aspersion
.
A
piece
of
string
and
a
ramrod
;
a
few
muskets
in
combination
with
a
length
of
hide
rope
;
or
even
a
simple
mallet
of
heavy
,
hard
wood
applied
with
a
swing
to
human
fingers
or
to
the
joints
of
a
human
body
is
enough
for
the
infliction
of
the
most
exquisite
torture
.
The
doctor
had
been
a
very
stubborn
prisoner
,
and
,
as
a
natural
consequence
of
that
"
bad
disposition
"
(
so
Father
Beron
called
it
)
,
his
subjugation
had
been
very
crushing
and
very
complete
.
That
is
why
the
limp
in
his
walk
,
the
twist
of
his
shoulders
,
the
scars
on
his
cheeks
were
so
pronounced
.
His
confessions
,
when
they
came
at
last
,
were
very
complete
,
too
.
Sometimes
on
the
nights
when
he
walked
the
floor
,
he
wondered
,
grinding
his
teeth
with
shame
and
rage
,
at
the
fertility
of
his
imagination
when
stimulated
by
a
sort
of
pain
which
makes
truth
,
honour
,
selfrespect
,
and
life
itself
matters
of
little
moment
.
And
he
could
not
forget
Father
Beron
with
his
monotonous
phrase
,
"
Will
you
confess
now
?
"
reaching
him
in
an
awful
iteration
and
lucidity
of
meaning
through
the
delirious
incoherence
of
unbearable
pain
.
He
could
not
forget
.
But
that
was
not
the
worst
.
Had
he
met
Father
Beron
in
the
street
after
all
these
years
Dr.
Monygham
was
sure
he
would
have
quailed
before
him
.
This
contingency
was
not
to
be
feared
now
.
Father
Beron
was
dead
;
but
the
sickening
certitude
prevented
Dr.
Monygham
from
looking
anybody
in
the
face
.
Dr.
Monygham
.
had
become
,
in
a
manner
,
the
slave
of
a
ghost
.
It
was
obviously
impossible
to
take
his
knowledge
of
Father
Beron
home
to
Europe
.
When
making
his
extorted
confessions
to
the
Military
Board
,
Dr.
Monygham
was
not
seeking
to
avoid
death
.
He
longed
for
it
.
Sitting
half-naked
for
hours
on
the
wet
earth
of
his
prison
,
and
so
motionless
that
the
spiders
,
his
companions
,
attached
their
webs
to
his
matted
hair
,
he
consoled
the
misery
of
his
soul
with
acute
reasonings
that
he
had
confessed
to
crimes
enough
for
a
sentence
of
death
--
that
they
had
gone
too
far
with
him
to
let
him
live
to
tell
the
tale
.
But
,
as
if
by
a
refinement
of
cruelty
,
Dr.
Monygham
was
left
for
months
to
decay
slowly
in
the
darkness
of
his
grave-like
prison
.
It
was
no
doubt
hoped
that
it
would
finish
him
off
without
the
trouble
of
an
execution
;
but
Dr.
Monygham
had
an
iron
constitution
.
It
was
Guzman
Bento
who
died
,
not
by
the
knife
thrust
of
a
conspirator
,
but
from
a
stroke
of
apoplexy
,
and
Dr.
Monygham
was
liberated
hastily
.
His
fetters
were
struck
off
by
the
light
of
a
candle
,
which
,
after
months
of
gloom
,
hurt
his
eyes
so
much
that
he
had
to
cover
his
face
with
his
hands
.
He
was
raised
up
.
His
heart
was
beating
violently
with
the
fear
of
this
liberty
.
When
he
tried
to
walk
the
extraordinary
lightness
of
his
feet
made
him
giddy
,
and
he
fell
down
.
Two
sticks
were
thrust
into
his
hands
,
and
he
was
pushed
out
of
the
passage
.
It
was
dusk
;
candles
glimmered
already
in
the
windows
of
the
officers
'
quarters
round
the
courtyard
;
but
the
twilight
sky
dazed
him
by
its
enormous
and
overwhelming
brilliance
.
A
thin
poncho
hung
over
his
naked
,
bony
shoulders
;
the
rags
of
his
trousers
came
down
no
lower
than
his
knees
;
an
eighteen
months
'
growth
of
hair
fell
in
dirty
grey
locks
on
each
side
of
his
sharp
cheek-bones
.
As
he
dragged
himself
past
the
guard-room
door
,
one
of
the
soldiers
,
lolling
outside
,
moved
by
some
obscure
impulse
,
leaped
forward
with
a
strange
laugh
and
rammed
a
broken
old
straw
hat
on
his
head
.
And
Dr.
Monygham
,
after
having
tottered
,
continued
on
his
way
.
He
advanced
one
stick
,
then
one
maimed
foot
,
then
the
other
stick
;
the
other
foot
followed
only
a
very
short
distance
along
the
ground
,
toilfully
,
as
though
it
were
almost
too
heavy
to
be
moved
at
all
;
and
yet
his
legs
under
the
hanging
angles
of
the
poncho
appeared
no
thicker
than
the
two
sticks
in
his
hands
.
A
ceaseless
trembling
agitated
his
bent
body
,
all
his
wasted
limbs
,
his
bony
head
,
the
conical
,
ragged
crown
of
the
sombrero
,
whose
ample
flat
rim
rested
on
his
shoulders
.
In
such
conditions
of
manner
and
attire
did
Dr.
Monygham
go
forth
to
take
possession
of
his
liberty
.
And
these
conditions
seemed
to
bind
him
indissolubly
to
the
land
of
Costaguana
like
an
awful
procedure
of
naturalization
,
involving
him
deep
in
the
national
life
,
far
deeper
than
any
amount
of
success
and
honour
could
have
done
.
They
did
away
with
his
Europeanism
;
for
Dr.
Monygham
had
made
himself
an
ideal
conception
of
his
disgrace
.
It
was
a
conception
eminently
fit
and
proper
for
an
officer
and
a
gentleman
.
Dr.
Monygham
,
before
he
went
out
to
Costaguana
,
had
been
surgeon
in
one
of
Her
Majesty
's
regiments
of
foot
.
It
was
a
conception
which
took
no
account
of
physiological
facts
or
reasonable
arguments
;
but
it
was
not
stupid
for
all
that
.
It
was
simple
.
A
rule
of
conduct
resting
mainly
on
severe
rejections
is
necessarily
simple
.
Dr.
Monygham
's
view
of
what
it
behoved
him
to
do
was
severe
;
it
was
an
ideal
view
,
in
so
much
that
it
was
the
imaginative
exaggeration
of
a
correct
feeling
.
It
was
also
,
in
its
force
,
influence
,
and
persistency
,
the
view
of
an
eminently
loyal
nature
.
