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- Джозеф Конрад
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Father
Roman
,
dried-up
,
small
,
alert
,
wrinkled
,
with
big
round
eyes
,
a
sharp
chin
,
and
a
great
snuff-taker
,
was
an
old
campaigner
,
too
;
he
had
shriven
many
simple
souls
on
the
battlefields
of
the
Republic
,
kneeling
by
the
dying
on
hillsides
,
in
the
long
grass
,
in
the
gloom
of
the
forests
,
to
hear
the
last
confession
with
the
smell
of
gunpowder
smoke
in
his
nostrils
,
the
rattle
of
muskets
,
the
hum
and
spatter
of
bullets
in
his
ears
.
And
where
was
the
harm
if
,
at
the
presbytery
,
they
had
a
game
with
a
pack
of
greasy
cards
in
the
early
evening
,
before
Don
Pepe
went
his
last
rounds
to
see
that
all
the
watchmen
of
the
mine
--
a
body
organized
by
himself
--
were
at
their
posts
?
For
that
last
duty
before
he
slept
Don
Pepe
did
actually
gird
his
old
sword
on
the
verandah
of
an
unmistakable
American
white
frame
house
,
which
Father
Roman
called
the
presbytery
.
Near
by
,
a
long
,
low
,
dark
building
,
steeple-roofed
,
like
a
vast
barn
with
a
wooden
cross
over
the
gable
,
was
the
miners
'
chapel
.
There
Father
Roman
said
Mass
every
day
before
a
sombre
altar-piece
representing
the
Resurrection
,
the
grey
slab
of
the
tombstone
balanced
on
one
corner
,
a
figure
soaring
upwards
,
long-limbed
and
livid
,
in
an
oval
of
pallid
light
,
and
a
helmeted
brown
legionary
smitten
down
,
right
across
the
bituminous
foreground
.
"
This
picture
,
my
children
,
muy
linda
e
maravillosa
,
"
Father
Roman
would
say
to
some
of
his
flock
,
"
which
you
behold
here
through
the
munificence
of
the
wife
of
our
Senor
Administrador
,
has
been
painted
in
Europe
,
a
country
of
saints
and
miracles
,
and
much
greater
than
our
Costaguana
.
"
And
he
would
take
a
pinch
of
snuff
with
unction
.
But
when
once
an
inquisitive
spirit
desired
to
know
in
what
direction
this
Europe
was
situated
,
whether
up
or
down
the
coast
,
Father
Roman
,
to
conceal
his
perplexity
,
became
very
reserved
and
severe
.
"
No
doubt
it
is
extremely
far
away
.
But
ignorant
sinners
like
you
of
the
San
Tome
mine
should
think
earnestly
of
everlasting
punishment
instead
of
inquiring
into
the
magnitude
of
the
earth
,
with
its
countries
and
populations
altogether
beyond
your
understanding
.
"
With
a
"
Good-night
,
Padre
,
"
"
Good-night
,
Don
Pepe
,
"
the
Gobernador
would
go
off
,
holding
up
his
sabre
against
his
side
,
his
body
bent
forward
,
with
a
long
,
plodding
stride
in
the
dark
.
The
jocularity
proper
to
an
innocent
card
game
for
a
few
cigars
or
a
bundle
of
yerba
was
replaced
at
once
by
the
stern
duty
mood
of
an
officer
setting
out
to
visit
the
outposts
of
an
encamped
army
.
One
loud
blast
of
the
whistle
that
hung
from
his
neck
provoked
instantly
a
great
shrilling
of
responding
whistles
,
mingled
with
the
barking
of
dogs
,
that
would
calm
down
slowly
at
last
,
away
up
at
the
head
of
the
gorge
;
and
in
the
stillness
two
serenos
,
on
guard
by
the
bridge
,
would
appear
walking
noiselessly
towards
him
.
On
one
side
of
the
road
a
long
frame
building
--
the
store
--
would
be
closed
and
barricaded
from
end
to
end
;
facing
it
another
white
frame
house
,
still
longer
,
and
with
a
verandah
--
the
hospital
--
would
have
lights
in
the
two
windows
of
Dr.
Monygham
's
quarters
.
Even
the
delicate
foliage
of
a
clump
of
pepper
trees
did
not
stir
,
so
breathless
would
be
the
darkness
warmed
by
the
radiation
of
the
over-heated
rocks
.
Don
Pepe
would
stand
still
for
a
moment
with
the
two
motionless
serenos
before
him
,
and
,
abruptly
,
high
up
on
the
sheer
face
of
the
mountain
,
dotted
with
single
torches
,
like
drops
of
fire
fallen
from
the
two
great
blazing
clusters
of
lights
above
,
the
ore
shoots
would
begin
to
rattle
.
The
great
clattering
,
shuffling
noise
,
gathering
speed
and
weight
,
would
be
caught
up
by
the
walls
of
the
gorge
,
and
sent
upon
the
plain
in
a
growl
of
thunder
.
The
pasadero
in
Rincon
swore
that
on
calm
nights
,
by
listening
intently
,
he
could
catch
the
sound
in
his
doorway
as
of
a
storm
in
the
mountains
.
To
Charles
Gould
's
fancy
it
seemed
that
the
sound
must
reach
the
uttermost
limits
of
the
province
.
Riding
at
night
towards
the
mine
,
it
would
meet
him
at
the
edge
of
a
little
wood
just
beyond
Rincon
.
There
was
no
mistaking
the
growling
mutter
of
the
mountain
pouring
its
stream
of
treasure
under
the
stamps
;
and
it
came
to
his
heart
with
the
peculiar
force
of
a
proclamation
thundered
forth
over
the
land
and
the
marvellousness
of
an
accomplished
fact
fulfilling
an
audacious
desire
.
He
had
heard
this
very
sound
in
his
imagination
on
that
far-off
evening
when
his
wife
and
himself
,
after
a
tortuous
ride
through
a
strip
of
forest
,
had
reined
in
their
horses
near
the
stream
,
and
had
gazed
for
the
first
time
upon
the
jungle-grown
solitude
of
the
gorge
.
The
head
of
a
palm
rose
here
and
there
.
In
a
high
ravine
round
the
corner
of
the
San
Tome
mountain
(
which
is
square
like
a
blockhouse
)
the
thread
of
a
slender
waterfall
flashed
bright
and
glassy
through
the
dark
green
of
the
heavy
fronds
of
tree-ferns
.
Don
Pepe
,
in
attendance
,
rode
up
,
and
,
stretching
his
arm
up
the
gorge
,
had
declared
with
mock
solemnity
,
"
Behold
the
very
paradise
of
snakes
,
senora
.
"
And
then
they
had
wheeled
their
horses
and
ridden
back
to
sleep
that
night
at
Rincon
.
The
alcalde
--
an
old
,
skinny
Moreno
,
a
sergeant
of
Guzman
Bento
's
time
--
had
cleared
respectfully
out
of
his
house
with
his
three
pretty
daughters
,
to
make
room
for
the
foreign
senora
and
their
worships
the
Caballeros
.
All
he
asked
Charles
Gould
(
whom
he
took
for
a
mysterious
and
official
person
)
to
do
for
him
was
to
remind
the
supreme
Government
--
El
Gobierno
supreme
--
of
a
pension
(
amounting
to
about
a
dollar
a
month
)
to
which
he
believed
himself
entitled
.
It
had
been
promised
to
him
,
he
affirmed
,
straightening
his
bent
back
martially
,
"
many
years
ago
,
for
my
valour
in
the
wars
with
the
wild
Indios
when
a
young
man
,
senor
.
"
The
waterfall
existed
no
longer
.
The
tree-ferns
that
had
luxuriated
in
its
spray
had
died
around
the
dried-up
pool
,
and
the
high
ravine
was
only
a
big
trench
half
filled
up
with
the
refuse
of
excavations
and
tailings
.
The
torrent
,
dammed
up
above
,
sent
its
water
rushing
along
the
open
flumes
of
scooped
tree
trunks
striding
on
trestle-legs
to
the
turbines
working
the
stamps
on
the
lower
plateau
--
the
mesa
grande
of
the
San
Tome
mountain
.
Only
the
memory
of
the
waterfall
,
with
its
amazing
fernery
,
like
a
hanging
garden
above
the
rocks
of
the
gorge
,
was
preserved
in
Mrs.
Gould
's
water-colour
sketch
;
she
had
made
it
hastily
one
day
from
a
cleared
patch
in
the
bushes
,
sitting
in
the
shade
of
a
roof
of
straw
erected
for
her
on
three
rough
poles
under
Don
Pepe
's
direction
.
Mrs.
Gould
had
seen
it
all
from
the
beginning
:
the
clearing
of
the
wilderness
,
the
making
of
the
road
,
the
cutting
of
new
paths
up
the
cliff
face
of
San
Tome
.
For
weeks
together
she
had
lived
on
the
spot
with
her
husband
;
and
she
was
so
little
in
Sulaco
during
that
year
that
the
appearance
of
the
Gould
carriage
on
the
Alameda
would
cause
a
social
excitement
.
From
the
heavy
family
coaches
full
of
stately
senoras
and
black-eyed
senoritas
rolling
solemnly
in
the
shaded
alley
white
hands
were
waved
towards
her
with
animation
in
a
flutter
of
greetings
.
Dona
Emilia
was
"
down
from
the
mountain
.
"
