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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Стр. 179/274
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He
climbed
the
crumbling
slope
of
the
rampart
,
and
,
putting
aside
the
bushes
,
looked
upon
the
harbour
.
He
saw
a
couple
of
ships
at
anchor
upon
the
sheet
of
water
reflecting
the
last
gleams
of
light
,
and
Sotillo
's
steamer
moored
to
the
jetty
.
And
behind
the
pale
long
front
of
the
Custom
House
,
there
appeared
the
extent
of
the
town
like
a
grove
of
thick
timber
on
the
plain
with
a
gateway
in
front
,
and
the
cupolas
,
towers
,
and
miradors
rising
above
the
trees
,
all
dark
,
as
if
surrendered
already
to
the
night
.
The
thought
that
it
was
no
longer
open
to
him
to
ride
through
the
streets
,
recognized
by
everyone
,
great
and
little
,
as
he
used
to
do
every
evening
on
his
way
to
play
monte
in
the
posada
of
the
Mexican
Domingo
;
or
to
sit
in
the
place
of
honour
,
listening
to
songs
and
looking
at
dances
,
made
it
appear
to
him
as
a
town
that
had
no
existence
.
For
a
long
time
he
gazed
on
,
then
let
the
parted
bushes
spring
back
,
and
,
crossing
over
to
the
other
side
of
the
fort
,
surveyed
the
vaster
emptiness
of
the
great
gulf
.
The
Isabels
stood
out
heavily
upon
the
narrowing
long
band
of
red
in
the
west
,
which
gleamed
low
between
their
black
shapes
,
and
the
Capataz
thought
of
Decoud
alone
there
with
the
treasure
.
That
man
was
the
only
one
who
cared
whether
he
fell
into
the
hands
of
the
Monterists
or
not
,
the
Capataz
reflected
bitterly
.
And
that
merely
would
be
an
anxiety
for
his
own
sake
.
As
to
the
rest
,
they
neither
knew
nor
cared
.
What
he
had
heard
Giorgio
Viola
say
once
was
very
true
.
Kings
,
ministers
,
aristocrats
,
the
rich
in
general
,
kept
the
people
in
poverty
and
subjection
;
they
kept
them
as
they
kept
dogs
,
to
fight
and
hunt
for
their
service
.
The
darkness
of
the
sky
had
descended
to
the
line
of
the
horizon
,
enveloping
the
whole
gulf
,
the
islets
,
and
the
lover
of
Antonia
alone
with
the
treasure
on
the
Great
Isabel
.
The
Capataz
,
turning
his
back
on
these
things
invisible
and
existing
,
sat
down
and
took
his
face
between
his
fists
.
He
felt
the
pinch
of
poverty
for
the
first
time
in
his
life
.
To
find
himself
without
money
after
a
run
of
bad
luck
at
monte
in
the
low
,
smoky
room
of
Domingo
's
posada
,
where
the
fraternity
of
Cargadores
gambled
,
sang
,
and
danced
of
an
evening
;
to
remain
with
empty
pockets
after
a
burst
of
public
generosity
to
some
peyne
d'oro
girl
or
other
(
for
whom
he
did
not
care
)
,
had
none
of
the
humiliation
of
destitution
.
He
remained
rich
in
glory
and
reputation
.
But
since
it
was
no
longer
possible
for
him
to
parade
the
streets
of
the
town
,
and
be
hailed
with
respect
in
the
usual
haunts
of
his
leisure
,
this
sailor
felt
himself
destitute
indeed
.
His
mouth
was
dry
.
It
was
dry
with
heavy
sleep
and
extremely
anxious
thinking
,
as
it
had
never
been
dry
before
.
It
may
be
said
that
Nostromo
tasted
the
dust
and
ashes
of
the
fruit
of
life
into
which
he
had
bitten
deeply
in
his
hunger
for
praise
.
Without
removing
his
head
from
between
his
fists
,
he
tried
to
spit
before
him
--
"
Tfui
"
--
and
muttered
a
curse
upon
the
selfishness
of
all
the
rich
people
.
Since
everything
seemed
lost
in
Sulaco
(
and
that
was
the
feeling
of
his
waking
)
,
the
idea
of
leaving
the
country
altogether
had
presented
itself
to
Nostromo
.
At
that
thought
he
had
seen
,
like
the
beginning
of
another
dream
,
a
vision
of
steep
and
tideless
shores
,
with
dark
pines
on
the
heights
and
white
houses
low
down
near
a
very
blue
sea
.
He
saw
the
quays
of
a
big
port
,
where
the
coasting
feluccas
,
with
their
lateen
sails
outspread
like
motionless
wings
,
enter
gliding
silently
between
the
end
of
long
moles
of
squared
blocks
that
project
angularly
towards
each
other
,
hugging
a
cluster
of
shipping
to
the
superb
bosom
of
a
hill
covered
with
palaces
.
He
remembered
these
sights
not
without
some
filial
emotion
,
though
he
had
been
habitually
and
severely
beaten
as
a
boy
on
one
of
these
feluccas
by
a
short-necked
,
shaven
Genoese
,
with
a
deliberate
and
distrustful
manner
,
who
(
he
firmly
believed
)
had
cheated
him
out
of
his
orphan
's
inheritance
.
But
it
is
mercifully
decreed
that
the
evils
of
the
past
should
appear
but
faintly
in
retrospect
.
Under
the
sense
of
loneliness
,
abandonment
,
and
failure
,
the
idea
of
return
to
these
things
appeared
tolerable
.
But
,
what
?
Return
?
With
bare
feet
and
head
,
with
one
check
shirt
and
a
pair
of
cotton
calzoneros
for
all
worldly
possessions
?
The
renowned
Capataz
,
his
elbows
on
his
knees
and
a
fist
dug
into
each
cheek
,
laughed
with
self-derision
,
as
he
had
spat
with
disgust
,
straight
out
before
him
into
the
night
.
The
confused
and
intimate
impressions
of
universal
dissolution
which
beset
a
subjective
nature
at
any
strong
check
to
its
ruling
passion
had
a
bitterness
approaching
that
of
death
itself
.
He
was
simple
.
He
was
as
ready
to
become
the
prey
of
any
belief
,
superstition
,
or
desire
as
a
child
.
The
facts
of
his
situation
he
could
appreciate
like
a
man
with
a
distinct
experience
of
the
country
.
He
saw
them
clearly
.
He
was
as
if
sobered
after
a
long
bout
of
intoxication
.
His
fidelity
had
been
taken
advantage
of
.
He
had
persuaded
the
body
of
Cargadores
to
side
with
the
Blancos
against
the
rest
of
the
people
;
he
had
had
interviews
with
Don
Jose
;
he
had
been
made
use
of
by
Father
Corbelan
for
negotiating
with
Hernandez
;
it
was
known
that
Don
Martin
Decoud
had
admitted
him
to
a
sort
of
intimacy
,
so
that
he
had
been
free
of
the
offices
of
the
Porvenir
.
All
these
things
had
flattered
him
in
the
usual
way
.
What
did
he
care
about
their
politics
?
Nothing
at
all
.
And
at
the
end
of
it
all
--
Nostromo
here
and
Nostromo
there
--
where
is
Nostromo
?
Nostromo
can
do
this
and
that
--
work
all
day
and
ride
all
night
--
behold
!
he
found
himself
a
marked
Ribierist
for
any
sort
of
vengeance
Gamacho
,
for
instance
,
would
choose
to
take
,
now
the
Montero
party
,
had
,
after
all
,
mastered
the
town
.
The
Europeans
had
given
up
;
the
Caballeros
had
given
up
.
Don
Martin
had
indeed
explained
it
was
only
temporary
--
that
he
was
going
to
bring
Barrios
to
the
rescue
.
Where
was
that
now
--
with
Don
Martin
(
whose
ironic
manner
of
talk
had
always
made
the
Capataz
feel
vaguely
uneasy
)
stranded
on
the
Great
Isabel
?
Everybody
had
given
up
.
Even
Don
Carlos
had
given
up
.
The
hurried
removal
of
the
treasure
out
to
sea
meant
nothing
else
than
that
.
