Ностромо

           Ittroubledtheclearmindofthemanwhohadpaidtheprice.HewassurethatDecoudwasdead.Theislandseemedfullofthatwhisper.Dead!Gone!Andhecaughthimselflisteningfortheswishofbushesandthesplashofthefootfallsinthebedofthebrook.Dead!Thetalker,thenovioofDonaAntonia!

           “Ha!”hemurmured,withhisheadonhisknees,underthelividcloudeddawnbreakingovertheliberatedSulacoanduponthegulfasgrayasashes.“Itistoherthathewillfly.Toherthathewillfly!”

           Andfouringots!Didhetaketheminrevenge,tocastaspell,liketheangrywomanwhohadprophesiedremorseandfailure,andyethadlaiduponhimthetaskofsavingthechildren?Well,hehadsavedthechildren.Hehaddefeatedthespellofpovertyandstarvation.Hehaddoneitallalone—orperhapshelpedbythedevil.Whocared?Hehaddoneit,betrayedashewas,andsavingbythesamestroketheSanTomemine,whichappearedtohimhatefulandimmense,lordingitbyitsvastwealthoverthevalour,thetoil,thefidelityofthepoor,overwarandpeace,overthelaboursofthetown,thesea,andtheCampo.

           ThesunlituptheskybehindthepeaksoftheCordillera.TheCapatazlookeddownforatimeuponthefalloflooseearth,stones,andsmashedbushes,concealingthehiding-placeofthesilver.

           “Imustgrowrichveryslowly,”hemeditated,aloud.