Ностромо

           Theylookedatitfixedly,whilehishand,feelingabouthiswaist,unbuttonedtheflapoftheleathercase,drewtherevolver,cockedit,broughtitforwardpointingathisbreast,pulledthetrigger,and,withconvulsiveforce,sentthestill-smokingweaponhurtlingthroughtheair.Hiseyeslookedatitwhilehefellforwardandhungwithhisbreastonthegunwaleandthefingersofhisrighthandhookedunderthethwart.Theylooked——

           “Itisdone,”hestammeredout,inasuddenflowofblood.Hislastthoughtwas:“IwonderhowthatCapatazdied.”Thestiffnessofthefingersrelaxed,andtheloverofAntoniaAvellanosrolledoverboardwithouthavingheardthecordofsilencesnapinthesolitudeofthePlacidGulf,whoseglitteringsurfaceremaineduntroubledbythefallofhisbody.

           Avictimofthedisillusionedwearinesswhichistheretributionmetedouttointellectualaudacity,thebrilliantDonMartinDecoud,weightedbythebarsofSanTomesilver,disappearedwithoutatrace,swallowedupintheimmenseindifferenceofthings.Hissleepless,crouchingfigurewasgonefromthesideoftheSanTomesilver;andforatimethespiritsofgoodandevilthathoverneareveryconcealedtreasureoftheearthmighthavethoughtthatthisonehadbeenforgottenbyallmankind.