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Chapter 7

           

           “Ididn’tlearntilllaterintheafternoonwhomitwasthatNostromo,withhisCargadoresandsomeItalianworkmenaswell,hadmanagedtosavefromthosedrunkenrascals.Thatmanhasapeculiartalentwhenanythingstrikingtotheimaginationhastobedone.Imadethatremarktohimafterwardswhenwemetaftersomesortoforderhadbeenrestoredinthetown,andtheanswerhemaderathersurprisedme.Hesaidquitemoodily,‘AndhowmuchdoIgetforthat,senor?’Thenitdawneduponmethatperhapsthisman’svanityhasbeensatiatedbytheadulationofthecommonpeopleandtheconfidenceofhissuperiors!”

           Decoudpausedtolightacigarette,then,withhisheadstilloverhiswriting,heblewacloudofsmoke,whichseemedtoreboundfromthepaper.Hetookupthepencilagain.

           “ThatwasyesterdayeveningonthePlaza,whilehesatonthestepsofthecathedral,hishandsbetweenhisknees,holdingthebridleofhisfamoussilver-greymare.HehadledhisbodyofCargadoressplendidlyalldaylong.Helookedfatigued.Idon’tknowhowIlooked.Verydirty,Isuppose.ButIsupposeIalsolookedpleased.FromthetimethefugitivePresidenthadbeengotofftotheS.S.Minerva,thetideofsuccesshadturnedagainstthemob.Theyhadbeendrivenofftheharbour,andoutofthebetterstreetsofthetown,intotheirownmazeofruinsandtolderias.

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