П’ятнадцятирічний капітан

The Interior of a Factory

           Weldonagain,withoutevenknowingthattheircompanioninmiserywasinKazounde,inAlvez’sestablishment.Theyhaddepartedforthelakecountry,ajourneyfiguredbyhundredsofmiles,thatveryfewaccomplish,andfromwhichveryfewreturn.

           "Well?"murmuredMrs.Weldon,lookingatNegorowithoutanswering.

           "Mrs.Weldon,"returnedthePortuguese,inanabruptvoice,"IcouldrevengemyselfonyouforthebadtreatmentIsufferedonboardthe’Pilgrim.’ButDickSand’sdeathwillsatisfymyvengeance.Now,mistress,Ibecomethemerchantagain,andbeholdmyprojectswithregardtoyou."

           Mrs.Weldonlookedathimwithoutsayingaword.

           "You,"continuedthePortuguese,"yourchild,andthatimbecilewhorunsaftertheflies,youhaveacommercialvaluewhichIintendtoutilize.SoIamgoingtosellyou."

           "Iamofafreerace,"repliedMrs.Weldon,inafirmtone.

           "Youareaslave,ifIwishit."

           "Andwhowouldbuyawhitewoman?"

           "AmanwhowillpayforherwhateverIshallaskhim."

           Mrs.Weldonbentherheadforamoment,forsheknewthatanythingwaspossibleinthatfrightfulcountry.

           "Youhaveheard?"continuedNegoro.

           "Whoisthismantowhomyouwillpretendtosellme?"repliedMrs.

           Weldon.

           "Tosellyouortore-sellyou.Atleast,Isupposeso!"addedthe

           Portuguese,sneering.

           "Thenameofthisman?"askedMrs.Weldon.

           "ThismanheisJamesW.Weldon,yourhusband."

           "Myhusband!"exclaimedMrs.Weldon,whocouldnotbelievewhatshehadjustheard.

           "Himself,Mrs.

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