Ностромо
Chapter 7
‘Quiensabe?’asthepeopleherearepronetosayinanswertoeveryquestion.Butno!feelingforyouiscertainlynotdead,andthewholething,thehouse,thedarknight,thesilentchildreninthisdimroom,myverypresencehere—allthisislife,mustbelife,sinceitissomuchlikeadream.”
WiththewritingofthelastlinetherecameuponDecoudamomentofsuddenandcompleteoblivion.Heswayedoverthetableasifstruckbyabullet.Thenextmomenthesatup,confused,withtheideathathehadheardhispencilrollonthefloor.Thelowdoorofthecafe,wideopen,wasfilledwiththeglareofatorchinwhichwasvisiblehalfofahorse,switchingitstailagainstthelegofariderwithalongironspurstrappedtothenakedheel.Thetwogirlsweregone,andNostromo,standinginthemiddleoftheroom,lookedathimfromundertheroundbrimofthesombrerolowdownoverhisbrow.
“Ihavebroughtthatsour-facedEnglishdoctorinSenoraGould’scarriage,”saidNostromo.“Idoubtif,withallhiswisdom,hecansavethePadronathistime.Theyhavesentforthechildren.Abadsignthat.”
Hesatdownontheendofabench.“Shewantstogivethemherblessing,Isuppose.”
DazedlyDecoudobservedthathemusthavefallensoundasleep,andNostromosaid,withavaguesmile,thathehadlookedinatthewindowandhadseenhimlyingstillacrossthetablewithhisheadonhisarms.
