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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Ностромо
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- Стр. 49/274
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He
whined
,
offering
the
Senor
Capataz
half
his
daily
pay
for
the
privilege
of
being
admitted
to
the
swaggering
fraternity
of
Cargadores
;
the
other
half
would
be
enough
for
him
,
he
protested
.
But
Captain
Mitchell
's
right-hand
man
--
"
invaluable
for
our
work
--
a
perfectly
incorruptible
fellow
"
--
after
looking
down
critically
at
the
ragged
mozo
,
shook
his
head
without
a
word
in
the
uproar
going
on
around
.
The
man
fell
back
;
and
a
little
further
on
Nostromo
had
to
pull
up
.
From
the
doors
of
the
dance
hall
men
and
women
emerged
tottering
,
streaming
with
sweat
,
trembling
in
every
limb
,
to
lean
,
panting
,
with
staring
eyes
and
parted
lips
,
against
the
wall
of
the
structure
,
where
the
harps
and
guitars
played
on
with
mad
speed
in
an
incessant
roll
of
thunder
.
Hundreds
of
hands
clapped
in
there
;
voices
shrieked
,
and
then
all
at
once
would
sink
low
,
chanting
in
unison
the
refrain
of
a
love
song
,
with
a
dying
fall
.
A
red
flower
,
flung
with
a
good
aim
from
somewhere
in
the
crowd
,
struck
the
resplendent
Capataz
on
the
cheek
.
He
caught
it
as
it
fell
,
neatly
,
but
for
some
time
did
not
turn
his
head
.
When
at
last
he
condescended
to
look
round
,
the
throng
near
him
had
parted
to
make
way
for
a
pretty
Morenita
,
her
hair
held
up
by
a
small
golden
comb
,
who
was
walking
towards
him
in
the
open
space
.
Her
arms
and
neck
emerged
plump
and
bare
from
a
snowy
chemisette
;
the
blue
woollen
skirt
,
with
all
the
fullness
gathered
in
front
,
scanty
on
the
hips
and
tight
across
the
back
,
disclosed
the
provoking
action
of
her
walk
.
She
came
straight
on
and
laid
her
hand
on
the
mare
's
neck
with
a
timid
,
coquettish
look
upwards
out
of
the
corner
of
her
eyes
.
"
Querido
,
"
she
murmured
,
caressingly
,
"
why
do
you
pretend
not
to
see
me
when
I
pass
?
"
"
Because
I
do
n't
love
thee
any
more
,
"
said
Nostromo
,
deliberately
,
after
a
moment
of
reflective
silence
.
The
hand
on
the
mare
's
neck
trembled
suddenly
.
She
dropped
her
head
before
all
the
eyes
in
the
wide
circle
formed
round
the
generous
,
the
terrible
,
the
inconstant
Capataz
de
Cargadores
,
and
his
Morenita
.
Nostromo
,
looking
down
,
saw
tears
beginning
to
fall
down
her
face
.
"
Has
it
come
,
then
,
ever
beloved
of
my
heart
?
"
she
whispered
.
"
Is
it
true
?
"
