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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Ностромо
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- Стр. 269/274
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"
You
can
do
nothing
?
"
she
whispered
.
"
No
,
Mrs.
Gould
.
Moreover
,
he
wo
n't
let
us
touch
him
.
It
does
not
matter
.
I
just
had
one
look
...
Useless
.
"
But
he
promised
to
see
old
Viola
and
the
other
girl
that
very
night
.
He
could
get
the
police-boat
to
take
him
off
to
the
island
.
He
remained
in
the
street
,
looking
after
the
landau
rolling
away
slowly
behind
the
white
mules
.
The
rumour
of
some
accident
--
an
accident
to
Captain
Fidanza
--
had
been
spreading
along
the
new
quays
with
their
rows
of
lamps
and
the
dark
shapes
of
towering
cranes
.
A
knot
of
night
prowlers
--
the
poorest
of
the
poor
--
hung
about
the
door
of
the
first-aid
hospital
,
whispering
in
the
moonlight
of
the
empty
street
.
There
was
no
one
with
the
wounded
man
but
the
pale
photographer
,
small
,
frail
,
bloodthirsty
,
the
hater
of
capitalists
,
perched
on
a
high
stool
near
the
head
of
the
bed
with
his
knees
up
and
his
chin
in
his
hands
.
He
had
been
fetched
by
a
comrade
who
,
working
late
on
the
wharf
,
had
heard
from
a
negro
belonging
to
a
lancha
,
that
Captain
Fidanza
had
been
brought
ashore
mortally
wounded
.
"
Have
you
any
dispositions
to
make
,
comrade
?
"
he
asked
,
anxiously
.
"
Do
not
forget
that
we
want
money
for
our
work
.
The
rich
must
be
fought
with
their
own
weapons
.
"
Nostromo
made
no
answer
.
The
other
did
not
insist
,
remaining
huddled
up
on
the
stool
,
shock-headed
,
wildly
hairy
,
like
a
hunchbacked
monkey
.
Then
,
after
a
long
silence
--
"
Comrade
Fidanza
,
"
he
began
,
solemnly
,
"
you
have
refused
all
aid
from
that
doctor
.
Is
he
really
a
dangerous
enemy
of
the
people
?
"
