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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Ностромо
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- Стр. 229/274
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They
looked
at
it
fixedly
,
while
his
hand
,
feeling
about
his
waist
,
unbuttoned
the
flap
of
the
leather
case
,
drew
the
revolver
,
cocked
it
,
brought
it
forward
pointing
at
his
breast
,
pulled
the
trigger
,
and
,
with
convulsive
force
,
sent
the
still-smoking
weapon
hurtling
through
the
air
.
His
eyes
looked
at
it
while
he
fell
forward
and
hung
with
his
breast
on
the
gunwale
and
the
fingers
of
his
right
hand
hooked
under
the
thwart
.
They
looked
--
--
"
It
is
done
,
"
he
stammered
out
,
in
a
sudden
flow
of
blood
.
His
last
thought
was
:
"
I
wonder
how
that
Capataz
died
.
"
The
stiffness
of
the
fingers
relaxed
,
and
the
lover
of
Antonia
Avellanos
rolled
overboard
without
having
heard
the
cord
of
silence
snap
in
the
solitude
of
the
Placid
Gulf
,
whose
glittering
surface
remained
untroubled
by
the
fall
of
his
body
.
A
victim
of
the
disillusioned
weariness
which
is
the
retribution
meted
out
to
intellectual
audacity
,
the
brilliant
Don
Martin
Decoud
,
weighted
by
the
bars
of
San
Tome
silver
,
disappeared
without
a
trace
,
swallowed
up
in
the
immense
indifference
of
things
.
His
sleepless
,
crouching
figure
was
gone
from
the
side
of
the
San
Tome
silver
;
and
for
a
time
the
spirits
of
good
and
evil
that
hover
near
every
concealed
treasure
of
the
earth
might
have
thought
that
this
one
had
been
forgotten
by
all
mankind
.
Then
,
after
a
few
days
,
another
form
appeared
striding
away
from
the
setting
sun
to
sit
motionless
and
awake
in
the
narrow
black
gully
all
through
the
night
,
in
nearly
the
same
pose
,
in
the
same
place
in
which
had
sat
that
other
sleepless
man
who
had
gone
away
for
ever
so
quietly
in
a
small
boat
,
about
the
time
of
sunset
.
And
the
spirits
of
good
and
evil
that
hover
about
a
forbidden
treasure
understood
well
that
the
silver
of
San
Tome
was
provided
now
with
a
faithful
and
lifelong
slave
.
The
magnificent
Capataz
de
Cargadores
,
victim
of
the
disenchanted
vanity
which
is
the
reward
of
audacious
action
,
sat
in
the
weary
pose
of
a
hunted
outcast
through
a
night
of
sleeplessness
as
tormenting
as
any
known
to
Decoud
,
his
companion
in
the
most
desperate
affair
of
his
life
.
And
he
wondered
how
Decoud
had
died
.
But
he
knew
the
part
he
had
played
himself
.
First
a
woman
,
then
a
man
,
abandoned
both
in
their
last
extremity
,
for
the
sake
of
this
accursed
treasure
.
It
was
paid
for
by
a
soul
lost
and
by
a
vanished
life
.
The
blank
stillness
of
awe
was
succeeded
by
a
gust
of
immense
pride
.
There
was
no
one
in
the
world
but
Gian
'
Battista
Fidanza
,
Capataz
de
Cargadores
,
the
incorruptible
and
faithful
Nostromo
,
to
pay
such
a
price
.
He
had
made
up
his
mind
that
nothing
should
be
allowed
now
to
rob
him
of
his
bargain
.
Nothing
.
Decoud
had
died
.
But
how
?
That
he
was
dead
he
had
not
a
shadow
of
a
doubt
.
But
four
ingots
?
...
What
for
?
Did
he
mean
to
come
for
more
--
some
other
time
?
The
treasure
was
putting
forth
its
latent
power
It
troubled
the
clear
mind
of
the
man
who
had
paid
the
price
.
He
was
sure
that
Decoud
was
dead
.
The
island
seemed
full
of
that
whisper
.
Dead
!
Gone
!
And
he
caught
himself
listening
for
the
swish
of
bushes
and
the
splash
of
the
footfalls
in
the
bed
of
the
brook
.
Dead
!
The
talker
,
the
novio
of
Dona
Antonia
!
"
Ha
!
"
he
murmured
,
with
his
head
on
his
knees
,
under
the
livid
clouded
dawn
breaking
over
the
liberated
Sulaco
and
upon
the
gulf
as
gray
as
ashes
.
"
It
is
to
her
that
he
will
fly
.
To
her
that
he
will
fly
!
"
And
four
ingots
!
Did
he
take
them
in
revenge
,
to
cast
a
spell
,
like
the
angry
woman
who
had
prophesied
remorse
and
failure
,
and
yet
had
laid
upon
him
the
task
of
saving
the
children
?
Well
,
he
had
saved
the
children
.
He
had
defeated
the
spell
of
poverty
and
starvation
.
He
had
done
it
all
alone
--
or
perhaps
helped
by
the
devil
.
Who
cared
?
He
had
done
it
,
betrayed
as
he
was
,
and
saving
by
the
same
stroke
the
San
Tome
mine
,
which
appeared
to
him
hateful
and
immense
,
lording
it
by
its
vast
wealth
over
the
valour
,
the
toil
,
the
fidelity
of
the
poor
,
over
war
and
peace
,
over
the
labours
of
the
town
,
the
sea
,
and
the
Campo
.
