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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Ностромо
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- Стр. 201/274
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"
That
is
what
you
meant
to
do
.
Bueno
.
It
is
as
I
say
.
You
are
a
dangerous
man
.
"
Their
voices
,
which
without
rising
had
been
growing
quarrelsome
,
ceased
suddenly
.
The
late
Senor
Hirsch
,
erect
and
shadowy
against
the
stars
,
seemed
to
be
waiting
attentive
,
in
impartial
silence
.
But
Dr.
Monygham
had
no
mind
to
quarrel
with
Nostromo
.
At
this
supremely
critical
point
of
Sulaco
's
fortunes
it
was
borne
upon
him
at
last
that
this
man
was
really
indispensable
,
more
indispensable
than
ever
the
infatuation
of
Captain
Mitchell
,
his
proud
discoverer
,
could
conceive
;
far
beyond
what
Decoud
's
best
dry
raillery
about
"
my
illustrious
friend
,
the
unique
Capataz
de
Cargadores
,
"
had
ever
intended
.
The
fellow
was
unique
.
He
was
not
"
one
in
a
thousand
.
"
He
was
absolutely
the
only
one
.
The
doctor
surrendered
.
There
was
something
in
the
genius
of
that
Genoese
seaman
which
dominated
the
destinies
of
great
enterprises
and
of
many
people
,
the
fortunes
of
Charles
Gould
,
the
fate
of
an
admirable
woman
.
At
this
last
thought
the
doctor
had
to
clear
his
throat
before
he
could
speak
.
In
a
completely
changed
tone
he
pointed
out
to
the
Capataz
that
,
to
begin
with
,
he
personally
ran
no
great
risk
.
As
far
as
everybody
knew
he
was
dead
.
It
was
an
enormous
advantage
.
He
had
only
to
keep
out
of
sight
in
the
Casa
Viola
,
where
the
old
Garibaldino
was
known
to
be
alone
--
with
his
dead
wife
.
The
servants
had
all
run
away
.
No
one
would
think
of
searching
for
him
there
,
or
anywhere
else
on
earth
,
for
that
matter
.
"
That
would
be
very
true
,
"
Nostromo
spoke
up
,
bitterly
,
"
if
I
had
not
met
you
.
"
For
a
time
the
doctor
kept
silent
.
"
Do
you
mean
to
say
that
you
think
I
may
give
you
away
?
"
he
asked
in
an
unsteady
voice
.
"
Why
?
Why
should
I
do
that
?
"
"
What
do
I
know
?
Why
not
?
To
gain
a
day
perhaps
.
It
would
take
Sotillo
a
day
to
give
me
the
estrapade
,
and
try
some
other
things
perhaps
,
before
he
puts
a
bullet
through
my
heart
--
as
he
did
to
that
poor
wretch
here
.
Why
not
?
"
The
doctor
swallowed
with
difficulty
.
His
throat
had
gone
dry
in
a
moment
.
It
was
not
from
indignation
.
The
doctor
,
pathetically
enough
,
believed
that
he
had
forfeited
the
right
to
be
indignant
with
any
one
--
for
anything
.
It
was
simple
dread
.
Had
the
fellow
heard
his
story
by
some
chance
?
If
so
,
there
was
an
end
of
his
usefulness
in
that
direction
.
The
indispensable
man
escaped
his
influence
,
because
of
that
indelible
blot
which
made
him
fit
for
dirty
work
.
A
feeling
as
of
sickness
came
upon
the
doctor
.
He
would
have
given
anything
to
know
,
but
he
dared
not
clear
up
the
point
.
The
fanaticism
of
his
devotion
,
fed
on
the
sense
of
his
abasement
,
hardened
his
heart
in
sadness
and
scorn
.
