Ностромо
Chapter 11
DonPepe,thoughsuperannuated,stillcansitahorse.BarriosisdrinkinghimselftodeathinjovialcompanyawaysomewhereonhisfundacionbeyondtheBolsondeTonoro.AndtheheroicFatherRoman—IimaginetheoldpadreblowingupsystematicallytheSanTomemine,utteringapiousexclamationateverybang,andtakinghandfulsofsnuffbetweentheexplosions—theheroicPadreRomansaysthatheisnotafraidoftheharmHolroyd’smissionariescandotohisflock,aslongasheisalive.”
Mrs.GouldshudderedalittleattheallusiontothedestructionthathadcomesoneartotheSanTomemine.
“Ah,butyou,dearfriend?”
“IdidtheworkIwasfitfor.”
“Youfacedthemostcrueldangersofall.Somethingmorethandeath.”
“No,Mrs.Gould!Onlydeath—byhanging.AndIamrewardedbeyondmydeserts.”
NoticingMrs.Gould’sgazefixeduponhim,hedroppedhiseyes.
“I’vemademycareer—asyousee,”saidtheInspector-GeneralofStateHospitals,takinguplightlythelapelsofhissuperfineblackcoat.Thedoctor’sself-respectmarkedinwardlybythealmostcompletedisappearancefromhisdreamsofFatherBeronappearedvisiblyinwhat,bycontrastwithformercarelessness,seemedanimmoderatecultofpersonalappearance.Carriedoutwithinseverelimitsofformandcolour,andinperpetualfreshness,thischangeofapparelgavetoDr.
