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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Ностромо
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- Стр. 170/274
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They
yelled
"
Viva
Montero
!
Viva
Pedrito
!
"
In
order
to
make
them
still
more
enthusiastic
,
and
from
the
natural
pleasure
he
had
in
dissembling
,
he
dropped
the
reins
on
his
horse
's
neck
,
and
with
a
tremendous
effect
of
familiarity
and
confidence
slipped
his
hands
under
the
arms
of
Senores
Fuentes
and
Gamacho
.
In
that
posture
,
with
a
ragged
town
mozo
holding
his
horse
by
the
bridle
,
he
rode
triumphantly
across
the
Plaza
to
the
door
of
the
Intendencia
.
Its
old
gloomy
walls
seemed
to
shake
in
the
acclamations
that
rent
the
air
and
covered
the
crashing
peals
of
the
cathedral
bells
.
Pedro
Montero
,
the
brother
of
the
general
,
dismounted
into
a
shouting
and
perspiring
throng
of
enthusiasts
whom
the
ragged
Nationals
were
pushing
back
fiercely
.
Ascending
a
few
steps
he
surveyed
the
large
crowd
gaping
at
him
.
and
the
bullet-speckled
walls
of
the
houses
opposite
lightly
veiled
by
a
sunny
haze
of
dust
.
The
word
"
PORVENIR
"
in
immense
black
capitals
,
alternating
with
broken
windows
,
stared
at
him
across
the
vast
space
;
and
he
thought
with
delight
of
the
hour
of
vengeance
,
because
he
was
very
sure
of
laying
his
hands
upon
Decoud
.
On
his
left
hand
,
Gamacho
,
big
and
hot
,
wiping
his
hairy
wet
face
,
uncovered
a
set
of
yellow
fangs
in
a
grin
of
stupid
hilarity
.
On
his
right
,
Senor
Fuentes
,
small
and
lean
,
looked
on
with
compressed
lips
.
The
crowd
stared
literally
open-mouthed
,
lost
in
eager
stillness
,
as
though
they
had
expected
the
great
guerrillero
,
the
famous
Pedrito
,
to
begin
scattering
at
once
some
sort
of
visible
largesse
.
What
he
began
was
a
speech
.
He
began
it
with
the
shouted
word
"
Citizens
!
"
which
reached
even
those
in
the
middle
of
the
Plaza
.
Afterwards
the
greater
part
of
the
citizens
remained
fascinated
by
the
orator
's
action
alone
,
his
tip-toeing
,
the
arms
flung
above
his
head
with
the
fists
clenched
,
a
hand
laid
flat
upon
the
heart
,
the
silver
gleam
of
rolling
eyes
,
the
sweeping
,
pointing
,
embracing
gestures
,
a
hand
laid
familiarly
on
Gamacho
's
shoulder
;
a
hand
waved
formally
towards
the
little
black-coated
person
of
Senor
Fuentes
,
advocate
and
politician
and
a
true
friend
of
the
people
.
The
vivas
of
those
nearest
to
the
orator
bursting
out
suddenly
propagated
themselves
irregularly
to
the
confines
of
the
crowd
,
like
flames
running
over
dry
grass
,
and
expired
in
the
opening
of
the
streets
.
In
the
intervals
,
over
the
swarming
Plaza
brooded
a
heavy
silence
,
in
which
the
mouth
of
the
orator
went
on
opening
and
shutting
,
and
detached
phrases
--
"
The
happiness
of
the
people
,
"
"
Sons
of
the
country
,
"
"
The
entire
world
,
el
mundo
entiero
"
--
reached
even
the
packed
steps
of
the
cathedral
with
a
feeble
clear
ring
,
thin
as
the
buzzing
of
a
mosquito
.
But
the
orator
struck
his
breast
;
he
seemed
to
prance
between
his
two
supporters
.
It
was
the
supreme
effort
of
his
peroration
.
Then
the
two
smaller
figures
disappeared
from
the
public
gaze
and
the
enormous
Gamacho
,
left
alone
,
advanced
,
raising
his
hat
high
above
his
head
.
Then
he
covered
himself
proudly
and
yelled
out
,
"
Ciudadanos
!
"
A
dull
roar
greeted
Senor
Gamacho
,
ex-pedlar
of
the
Campo
,
Commandante
of
the
National
Guards
.
Upstairs
Pedrito
Montero
walked
about
rapidly
from
one
wrecked
room
of
the
Intendencia
to
another
,
snarling
incessantly
--
"
What
stupidity
!
What
destruction
!
"
Senor
Fuentes
,
following
,
would
relax
his
taciturn
disposition
to
murmur
--
"
It
is
all
the
work
of
Gamacho
and
his
Nationals
;
"
and
then
,
inclining
his
head
on
his
left
shoulder
,
would
press
together
his
lips
so
firmly
that
a
little
hollow
would
appear
at
each
corner
.
He
had
his
nomination
for
Political
Chief
of
the
town
in
his
pocket
,
and
was
all
impatience
to
enter
upon
his
functions
.
In
the
long
audience
room
,
with
its
tall
mirrors
all
starred
by
stones
,
the
hangings
torn
down
and
the
canopy
over
the
platform
at
the
upper
end
pulled
to
pieces
,
the
vast
,
deep
muttering
of
the
crowd
and
the
howling
voice
of
Gamacho
speaking
just
below
reached
them
through
the
shutters
as
they
stood
idly
in
dimness
and
desolation
.
"
The
brute
!
"
observed
his
Excellency
Don
Pedro
Montero
through
clenched
teeth
.
"
We
must
contrive
as
quickly
as
possible
to
send
him
and
his
Nationals
out
there
to
fight
Hernandez
.
"
The
new
Gefe
Politico
only
jerked
his
head
sideways
,
and
took
a
puff
at
his
cigarette
in
sign
of
his
agreement
with
this
method
for
ridding
the
town
of
Gamacho
and
his
inconvenient
rabble
.
