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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Стр. 195/274
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"
Bah
!
You
dare
to
tell
me
that
,
with
a
man
like
Sotillo
.
I
confess
I
did
not
give
a
thought
to
Hirsch
.
If
I
had
it
would
have
been
useless
.
Anybody
can
see
that
the
luckless
wretch
was
doomed
from
the
moment
he
caught
hold
of
the
anchor
He
was
doomed
,
I
tell
you
!
Just
as
I
myself
am
doomed
--
most
probably
.
"
This
is
what
Dr.
Monygham
said
in
answer
to
Nostromo
's
remark
,
which
was
plausible
enough
to
prick
his
conscience
.
He
was
not
a
callous
man
.
But
the
necessity
,
the
magnitude
,
the
importance
of
the
task
he
had
taken
upon
himself
dwarfed
all
merely
humane
considerations
.
He
had
undertaken
it
in
a
fanatical
spirit
.
He
did
not
like
it
.
To
lie
,
to
deceive
,
to
circumvent
even
the
basest
of
mankind
was
odious
to
him
.
It
was
odious
to
him
by
training
,
instinct
,
and
tradition
.
To
do
these
things
in
the
character
of
a
traitor
was
abhorrent
to
his
nature
and
terrible
to
his
feelings
.
He
had
made
that
sacrifice
in
a
spirit
of
abasement
.
He
had
said
to
himself
bitterly
,
"
I
am
the
only
one
fit
for
that
dirty
work
.
"
And
he
believed
this
.
He
was
not
subtle
.
His
simplicity
was
such
that
,
though
he
had
no
sort
of
heroic
idea
of
seeking
death
,
the
risk
,
deadly
enough
,
to
which
he
exposed
himself
,
had
a
sustaining
and
comforting
effect
.
To
that
spiritual
state
the
fate
of
Hirsch
presented
itself
as
part
of
the
general
atrocity
of
things
.
He
considered
that
episode
practically
.
What
did
it
mean
?
Was
it
a
sign
of
some
dangerous
change
in
Sotillo
's
delusion
?
That
the
man
should
have
been
killed
like
this
was
what
the
doctor
could
not
understand
.
"
Yes
.
But
why
shot
?
"
he
murmured
to
himself
.
Nostromo
kept
very
still
.
DISTRACTED
between
doubts
and
hopes
,
dismayed
by
the
sound
of
bells
pealing
out
the
arrival
of
Pedrito
Montero
,
Sotillo
had
spent
the
morning
in
battling
with
his
thoughts
;
a
contest
to
which
he
was
unequal
,
from
the
vacuity
of
his
mind
and
the
violence
of
his
passions
.
Disappointment
,
greed
,
anger
,
and
fear
made
a
tumult
,
in
the
colonel
's
breast
louder
than
the
din
of
bells
in
the
town
.
Nothing
he
had
planned
had
come
to
pass
.
Neither
Sulaco
nor
the
silver
of
the
mine
had
fallen
into
his
hands
.
He
had
performed
no
military
exploit
to
secure
his
position
,
and
had
obtained
no
enormous
booty
to
make
off
with
.
Pedrito
Montero
,
either
as
friend
or
foe
,
filled
him
with
dread
.
The
sound
of
bells
maddened
him
.
Imagining
at
first
that
he
might
be
attacked
at
once
,
he
had
made
his
battalion
stand
to
arms
on
the
shore
.
He
walked
to
and
fro
all
the
length
of
the
room
,
stopping
sometimes
to
gnaw
the
finger-tips
of
his
right
hand
with
a
lurid
sideways
glare
fixed
on
the
floor
;
then
,
with
a
sullen
,
repelling
glance
all
round
,
he
would
resume
his
tramping
in
savage
aloofness
.
His
hat
,
horsewhip
,
sword
,
and
revolver
were
lying
on
the
table
.
His
officers
,
crowding
the
window
giving
the
view
of
the
town
gate
,
disputed
amongst
themselves
the
use
of
his
field-glass
bought
last
year
on
long
credit
from
Anzani
.
It
passed
from
hand
to
hand
,
and
the
possessor
for
the
time
being
was
besieged
by
anxious
inquiries
.
"
There
is
nothing
;
there
is
nothing
to
see
!
"
he
would
repeat
impatiently
.
There
was
nothing
.
And
when
the
picket
in
the
bushes
near
the
Casa
Viola
had
been
ordered
to
fall
back
upon
the
main
body
,
no
stir
of
life
appeared
on
the
stretch
of
dusty
and
arid
land
between
the
town
and
the
waters
of
the
port
.
But
late
in
the
afternoon
a
horseman
issuing
from
the
gate
was
made
out
riding
up
fearlessly
.
It
was
an
emissary
from
Senor
Fuentes
.
Being
all
alone
he
was
allowed
to
come
on
.
Dismounting
at
the
great
door
he
greeted
the
silent
bystanders
with
cheery
impudence
,
and
begged
to
be
taken
up
at
once
to
the
"
muy
valliente
"
colonel
.
