Ностромо
Chapter 7
Iwassetuponatonceasahatedaristocrat,andwasonlytoogladtogetintotheclub,whereDonJaimeBerges(youmayrememberhimvisitingatourhouseinParissomethreeyearsago)thrustasportinggunintomyhands.Theywerealreadyfiringfromthewindows.Therewerelittleheapsofcartridgeslyingaboutontheopencard-tables.Irememberacoupleofoverturnedchairs,somebottlesrollingontheflooramongstthepacksofcardsscatteredsuddenlyasthecaballerosrosefromtheirgametoopenfireuponthemob.Mostoftheyoungmenhadspentthenightattheclubintheexpectationofsomesuchdisturbance.Intwoofthecandelabra,ontheconsoles,thecandleswereburningdownintheirsockets.Alargeironnut,probablystolenfromtherailwayworkshops,flewinfromthestreetasIentered,andbrokeoneofthelargemirrorssetinthewall.Inoticedalsooneoftheclubservantstieduphandandfootwiththecordsofthecurtainandflunginacorner.IhaveavaguerecollectionofDonJaimeassuringmehastilythatthefellowhadbeendetectedputtingpoisonintothedishesatsupper.ButIrememberdistinctlyhewasshriekingformercy,withoutstoppingatall,continuously,andsoabsolutelydisregardedthatnobodyeventookthetroubletogaghim.ThenoisehemadewassodisagreeablethatIhadhalfamindtodoitmyself.Buttherewasnotimetowasteonsuchtrifles.Itookmyplaceatoneofthewindowsandbeganfiring.
