Nobody had ever heard of labour troubles then. The Cargadores of the port formed, indeed, an unruly brotherhood5 of all sorts of scum, with a patron saint of their own. They went on strike regularly (every bull-fight day), a form of trouble that even Nostromo at the height of his prestige could never cope with efficiently6; but the morning after each fiesta, before the Indian market-women had opened their mat parasols on the plaza7, when the snows of Higuerota gleamed pale over the town on a yet black sky, the appearance of a phantom-like horseman mounted on a silver-grey mare8 solved the problem of labour without fail. His steed paced the lanes of the slums and the weed-grown enclosures within the old ramparts, between the black, lightless cluster of huts, like cow-byres, like dog-kennels. The horseman hammered with the butt10 of a heavy revolver at the doors of low pulperias, of obscene lean-to sheds sloping against the tumble-down piece of a noble wall, at the wooden sides of dwellings11 so flimsy that the sound of snores and sleepy mutters within could be heard in the pauses of the thundering clatter12 of his blows. He called out men’s names menacingly from the saddle, once, twice. The drowsy13 answers — grumpy, conciliating, savage14, jocular, or deprecating — came out into the silent darkness in which the horseman sat still, and presently a dark figure would flit out coughing in the still air. Sometimes a low-toned woman cried through the window-hole softly, “He’s coming directly, senor,” and the horseman waited silent on a motionless horse. But if perchance he had to dismount, then, after a while, from the door of that hovel or of that pulperia, with a ferocious15 scuffle and stifled16 imprecations, a cargador would fly out head first and hands abroad, to sprawl17 under the forelegs of the silver-grey mare, who only pricked18 forward her sharp little ears. She was used to that work; and the man, picking himself up, would walk away hastily from Nostromo’s revolver, reeling a little along the street and snarling20 low curses. At sunrise Captain Mitchell, coming out anxiously in his night attire21 on to the wooden balcony running the whole length of the O.S.N. Company’s lonely building by the shore, would see the lighters22 already under way, figures moving busily about the cargo23 cranes, perhaps hear the invaluable24 Nostromo, now dismounted and in the checked shirt and red sash of a Mediterranean25 sailor, bawling26 orders from the end of the jetty in a stentorian27 voice. A fellow in a thousand!
The material apparatus28 of perfected civilization which obliterates29 the individuality of old towns under the stereotyped30 conveniences of modern life had not intruded31 as yet; but over the worn-out antiquity32 of Sulaco, so characteristic with its stuccoed houses and barred windows, with the great yellowy-white walls of abandoned convents behind the rows of sombre green cypresses33, that fact — very modern in its spirit — the San Tome mine had already thrown its subtle influence. It had altered, too, the outward character of the crowds on feast days on the plaza before the open portal of the cathedral, by the number of white ponchos35 with a green stripe affected36 as holiday wear by the San Tome miners. They had also adopted white hats with green cord and braid — articles of good quality, which could be obtained in the storehouse of the administration for very little money. A peaceable Cholo wearing these colours (unusual in Costaguana) was somehow very seldom beaten to within an inch of his life on a charge of disrespect to the town police; neither ran he much risk of being suddenly lassoed on the road by a recruiting party of lanceros — a method of voluntary enlistment37 looked upon as almost legal in the Republic. Whole villages were known to have volunteered for the army in that way; but, as Don Pepe would say with a hopeless shrug38 to Mrs. Gould, “What would you! Poor people! Pobrecitos! Pobrecitos! But the State must have its soldiers.”
Thus professionally spoke39 Don Pepe, the fighter, with pendent moustaches, a nut-brown, lean face, and a clean run of a cast-iron jaw40, suggesting the type of a cattle-herd41 horseman from the great Llanos of the South. “If you will listen to an old officer of Paez, senores,” was the exordium of all his speeches in the Aristocratic Club of Sulaco, where he was admitted on account of his past services to the extinct cause of Federation42. The club, dating from the days of the proclamation of Costaguana’s independence, boasted many names of liberators amongst its first founders43. Suppressed arbitrarily innumerable times by various Governments, with memories of proscriptions and of at least one wholesale44 massacre45 of its members, sadly assembled for a banquet by the order of a zealous46 military commandante (their bodies were afterwards stripped naked and flung into the plaza out of the windows by the lowest scum of the populace), it was again flourishing, at that period, peacefully. It extended to strangers the large hospitality of the cool, big rooms of its historic quarters in the front part of a house, once the residence of a high official of the Holy Office. The two wings, shut up, crumbled47 behind the nailed doors, and what may be described as a grove49 of young orange trees grown in the unpaved patio50 concealed51 the utter ruin of the back part facing the gate. You turned in from the street, as if entering a secluded53 orchard54, where you came upon the foot of a disjointed staircase, guarded by a moss-stained effigy55 of some saintly bishop56, mitred and staffed, and bearing the indignity57 of a broken nose meekly59, with his fine stone hands crossed on his breast. The chocolate-coloured faces of servants with mops of black hair peeped at you from above; the click of billiard balls came to your ears, and ascending60 the steps, you would perhaps see in the first sala, very stiff upon a straight-backed chair, in a good light, Don Pepe moving his long moustaches as he spelt his way, at arm’s length, through an old Sta. Marta newspaper. His horse — a stony61-hearted but persevering62 black brute63 with a hammer head — you would have seen in the street dozing64 motionless under an immense saddle, with its nose almost touching65 the curbstone of the sidewalk.
Don Pepe, when “down from the mountain,” as the phrase, often heard in Sulaco, went, could also be seen in the drawing-room of the Casa Gould. He sat with modest assurance at some distance from the tea-table. With his knees close together, and a kindly66 twinkle of drollery67 in his deep-set eyes, he would throw his small and ironic68 pleasantries into the current of conversation. There was in that man a sort of sane69, humorous shrewdness, and a vein70 of genuine humanity so often found in simple old soldiers of proved courage who have seen much desperate service. Of course he knew nothing whatever of mining, but his employment was of a special kind. He was in charge of the whole population in the territory of the mine, which extended from the head of the gorge71 to where the cart track from the foot of the mountain enters the plain, crossing a stream over a little wooden bridge painted green — green, the colour of hope, being also the colour of the mine.
It was reported in Sulaco that up there “at the mountain” Don Pepe walked about precipitous paths, girt with a great sword and in a shabby uniform with tarnished72 bullion73 epaulettes of a senior major. Most miners being Indians, with big wild eyes, addressed him as Taita (father), as these barefooted people of Costaguana will address anybody who wears shoes; but it was Basilio, Mr. Gould’s own mozo and the head servant of the Casa, who, in all good faith and from a sense of propriety74, announced him once in the solemn words, “El Senor Gobernador has arrived.”
Don Jose Avellanos, then in the drawing-room, was delighted beyond measure at the aptness of the title, with which he greeted the old major banteringly as soon as the latter’s soldierly figure appeared in the doorway75. Don Pepe only smiled in his long moustaches, as much as to say, “You might have found a worse name for an old soldier.”
And El Senor Gobernador he had remained, with his small jokes upon his function and upon his domain76, where he affirmed with humorous exaggeration to Mrs. Gould —
“No two stones could come together anywhere without the Gobernador hearing the click, senora.”
And he would tap his ear with the tip of his forefinger77 knowingly. Even when the number of the miners alone rose to over six hundred he seemed to know each of them individually, all the innumerable Joses, Manuels, Ignacios, from the villages primero — segundo — or tercero (there were three mining villages) under his government. He could distinguish them not only by their flat, joyless faces, which to Mrs. Gould looked all alike, as if run into the same ancestral mould of suffering and patience, but apparently78 also by the infinitely79 graduated shades of reddish-brown, of blackish-brown, of coppery-brown backs, as the two shifts, stripped to linen80 drawers and leather skull-caps, mingled81 together with a confusion of naked limbs, of shouldered picks, swinging lamps, in a great shuffle82 of sandalled feet on the open plateau before the entrance of the main tunnel. It was a time of pause. The Indian boys leaned idly against the long line of little cradle wagons83 standing85 empty; the screeners and ore-breakers squatted86 on their heels smoking long cigars; the great wooden shoots slanting87 over the edge of the tunnel plateau were silent; and only the ceaseless, violent rush of water in the open flumes could be heard, murmuring fiercely, with the splash and rumble48 of revolving89 turbine-wheels, and the thudding march of the stamps pounding to powder the treasure rock on the plateau below. The heads of gangs, distinguished90 by brass91 medals hanging on their bare breasts, marshalled their squads92; and at last the mountain would swallow one-half of the silent crowd, while the other half would move off in long files down the zigzag93 paths leading to the bottom of the gorge. It was deep; and, far below, a thread of vegetation winding94 between the blazing rock faces resembled a slender green cord, in which three lumpy knots of banana patches, palm-leaf roots, and shady trees marked the Village One, Village Two, Village Three, housing the miners of the Gould Concession95.
Whole families had been moving from the first towards the spot in the Higuerota range, whence the rumour96 of work and safety had spread over the pastoral Campo, forcing its way also, even as the waters of a high flood, into the nooks and crannies of the distant blue walls of the Sierras. Father first, in a pointed98 straw hat, then the mother with the bigger children, generally also a diminutive99 donkey, all under burdens, except the leader himself, or perhaps some grown girl, the pride of the family, stepping barefooted and straight as an arrow, with braids of raven100 hair, a thick, haughty101 profile, and no load to carry but the small guitar of the country and a pair of soft leather sandals tied together on her back. At the sight of such parties strung out on the cross trails between the pastures, or camped by the side of the royal road, travellers on horseback would remark to each other —
“More people going to the San Tome mine. We shall see others to-morrow.”
And spurring on in the dusk they would discuss the great news of the province, the news of the San Tome mine. A rich Englishman was going to work it — and perhaps not an Englishman, Quien sabe! A foreigner with much money. Oh, yes, it had begun. A party of men who had been to Sulaco with a herd of black bulls for the next corrida had reported that from the porch of the posada in Rincon, only a short league from the town, the lights on the mountain were visible, twinkling above the trees. And there was a woman seen riding a horse sideways, not in the chair seat, but upon a sort of saddle, and a man’s hat on her head. She walked about, too, on foot up the mountain paths. A woman engineer, it seemed she was.
“What an absurdity102! Impossible, senor!”
“Si! Si! Una Americana del Norte.”
“Ah, well! if your worship is informed. Una Americana; it need be something of that sort.”
And they would laugh a little with astonishment104 and scorn, keeping a wary105 eye on the shadows of the road, for one is liable to meet bad men when travelling late on the Campo.
And it was not only the men that Don Pepe knew so well, but he seemed able, with one attentive106, thoughtful glance, to classify each woman, girl, or growing youth of his domain. It was only the small fry that puzzled him sometimes. He and the padre could be seen frequently side by side, meditative107 and gazing across the street of a village at a lot of sedate108 brown children, trying to sort them out, as it were, in low, consulting tones, or else they would together put searching questions as to the parentage of some small, staid urchin109 met wandering, naked and grave, along the road with a cigar in his baby mouth, and perhaps his mother’s rosary, purloined110 for purposes of ornamentation, hanging in a loop of beads111 low down on his rotund little stomach. The spiritual and temporal pastors112 of the mine flock were very good friends. With Dr. Monygham, the medical pastor97, who had accepted the charge from Mrs. Gould, and lived in the hospital building, they were on not so intimate terms. But no one could be on intimate terms with El Senor Doctor, who, with his twisted shoulders, drooping113 head, sardonic115 mouth, and side-long bitter glance, was mysterious and uncanny. The other two authorities worked in harmony. Father Roman, dried-up, small, alert, wrinkled, with big round eyes, a sharp chin, and a great snuff-taker, was an old campaigner, too; he had shriven many simple souls on the battlefields of the Republic, kneeling by the dying on hillsides, in the long grass, in the gloom of the forests, to hear the last confession116 with the smell of gunpowder117 smoke in his nostrils118, the rattle119 of muskets120, the hum and spatter of bullets in his ears. And where was the harm if, at the presbytery, they had a game with a pack of greasy121 cards in the early evening, before Don Pepe went his last rounds to see that all the watchmen of the mine — a body organized by himself — were at their posts? For that last duty before he slept Don Pepe did actually gird his old sword on the verandah of an unmistakable American white frame house, which Father Roman called the presbytery. Near by, a long, low, dark building, steeple-roofed, like a vast barn with a wooden cross over the gable, was the miners’ chapel122. There Father Roman said Mass every day before a sombre altar-piece representing the Resurrection, the grey slab123 of the tombstone balanced on one corner, a figure soaring upwards124, long-limbed and livid, in an oval of pallid125 light, and a helmeted brown legionary smitten126 down, right across the bituminous foreground. “This picture, my children, muy linda e maravillosa,” Father Roman would say to some of his flock, “which you behold127 here through the munificence128 of the wife of our Senor Administrador, has been painted in Europe, a country of saints and miracles, and much greater than our Costaguana.” And he would take a pinch of snuff with unction. But when once an inquisitive129 spirit desired to know in what direction this Europe was situated130, whether up or down the coast, Father Roman, to conceal52 his perplexity, became very reserved and severe. “No doubt it is extremely far away. But ignorant sinners like you of the San Tome mine should think earnestly of everlasting131 punishment instead of inquiring into the magnitude of the earth, with its countries and populations altogether beyond your understanding.”
With a “Good-night, Padre,” “Good-night, Don Pepe,” the Gobernador would go off, holding up his sabre against his side, his body bent133 forward, with a long, plodding134 stride in the dark. The jocularity proper to an innocent card game for a few cigars or a bundle of yerba was replaced at once by the stern duty mood of an officer setting out to visit the outposts of an encamped army. One loud blast of the whistle that hung from his neck provoked instantly a great shrilling135 of responding whistles, mingled with the barking of dogs, that would calm down slowly at last, away up at the head of the gorge; and in the stillness two serenos, on guard by the bridge, would appear walking noiselessly towards him. On one side of the road a long frame building — the store — would be closed and barricaded137 from end to end; facing it another white frame house, still longer, and with a verandah — the hospital — would have lights in the two windows of Dr. Monygham’s quarters. Even the delicate foliage138 of a clump139 of pepper trees did not stir, so breathless would be the darkness warmed by the radiation of the over-heated rocks. Don Pepe would stand still for a moment with the two motionless serenos before him, and, abruptly140, high up on the sheer face of the mountain, dotted with single torches, like drops of fire fallen from the two great blazing clusters of lights above, the ore shoots would begin to rattle. The great clattering141, shuffling142 noise, gathering143 speed and weight, would be caught up by the walls of the gorge, and sent upon the plain in a growl144 of thunder. The pasadero in Rincon swore that on calm nights, by listening intently, he could catch the sound in his doorway as of a storm in the mountains.
To Charles Gould’s fancy it seemed that the sound must reach the uttermost limits of the province. Riding at night towards the mine, it would meet him at the edge of a little wood just beyond Rincon. There was no mistaking the growling145 mutter of the mountain pouring its stream of treasure under the stamps; and it came to his heart with the peculiar146 force of a proclamation thundered forth147 over the land and the marvellousness of an accomplished148 fact fulfilling an audacious desire. He had heard this very sound in his imagination on that far-off evening when his wife and himself, after a tortuous149 ride through a strip of forest, had reined151 in their horses near the stream, and had gazed for the first time upon the jungle-grown solitude152 of the gorge. The head of a palm rose here and there. In a high ravine round the corner of the San Tome mountain (which is square like a blockhouse) the thread of a slender waterfall flashed bright and glassy through the dark green of the heavy fronds153 of tree-ferns. Don Pepe, in attendance, rode up, and, stretching his arm up the gorge, had declared with mock solemnity, “Behold the very paradise of snakes, senora.”
And then they had wheeled their horses and ridden back to sleep that night at Rincon. The alcalde — an old, skinny Moreno, a sergeant154 of Guzman Bento’s time — had cleared respectfully out of his house with his three pretty daughters, to make room for the foreign senora and their worships the Caballeros. All he asked Charles Gould (whom he took for a mysterious and official person) to do for him was to remind the supreme156 Government — El Gobierno supreme — of a pension (amounting to about a dollar a month) to which he believed himself entitled. It had been promised to him, he affirmed, straightening his bent back martially157, “many years ago, for my valour in the wars with the wild Indios when a young man, senor.”
The waterfall existed no longer. The tree-ferns that had luxuriated in its spray had died around the dried-up pool, and the high ravine was only a big trench159 half filled up with the refuse of excavations160 and tailings. The torrent161, dammed up above, sent its water rushing along the open flumes of scooped162 tree trunks striding on trestle-legs to the turbines working the stamps on the lower plateau — the mesa grande of the San Tome mountain. Only the memory of the waterfall, with its amazing fernery, like a hanging garden above the rocks of the gorge, was preserved in Mrs. Gould’s water-colour sketch163; she had made it hastily one day from a cleared patch in the bushes, sitting in the shade of a roof of straw erected164 for her on three rough poles under Don Pepe’s direction.
Mrs. Gould had seen it all from the beginning: the clearing of the wilderness165, the making of the road, the cutting of new paths up the cliff face of San Tome. For weeks together she had lived on the spot with her husband; and she was so little in Sulaco during that year that the appearance of the Gould carriage on the Alameda would cause a social excitement. From the heavy family coaches full of stately senoras and black-eyed senoritas rolling solemnly in the shaded alley167 white hands were waved towards her with animation168 in a flutter of greetings. Dona Emilia was “down from the mountain.”
But not for long. Dona Emilia would be gone “up to the mountain” in a day or two, and her sleek169 carriage mules171 would have an easy time of it for another long spell. She had watched the erection of the first frame-house put up on the lower mesa for an office and Don Pepe’s quarters; she heard with a thrill of thankful emotion the first wagon84 load of ore rattle down the then only shoot; she had stood by her husband’s side perfectly172 silent, and gone cold all over with excitement at the instant when the first battery of only fifteen stamps was put in motion for the first time. On the occasion when the fires under the first set of retorts in their shed had glowed far into the night she did not retire to rest on the rough cadre set up for her in the as yet bare frame-house till she had seen the first spongy lump of silver yielded to the hazards of the world by the dark depths of the Gould Concession; she had laid her unmercenary hands, with an eagerness that made them tremble, upon the first silver ingot turned out still warm from the mould; and by her imaginative estimate of its power she endowed that lump of metal with a justificative conception, as though it were not a mere9 fact, but something far-reaching and impalpable, like the true expression of an emotion or the emergence173 of a principle.
Don Pepe, extremely interested, too, looked over her shoulder with a smile that, making longitudinal folds on his face, caused it to resemble a leathern mask with a benignantly diabolic expression.
“Would not the muchachos of Hernandez like to get hold of this insignificant174 object, that looks, por Dios, very much like a piece of tin?” he remarked, jocularly.
Hernandez, the robber, had been an inoffensive, small ranchero, kidnapped with circumstances of peculiar atrocity175 from his home during one of the civil wars, and forced to serve in the army. There his conduct as soldier was exemplary, till, watching his chance, he killed his colonel, and managed to get clear away. With a band of deserters, who chose him for their chief, he had taken refuge beyond the wild and waterless Bolson de Tonoro. The haciendas paid him blackmail176 in cattle and horses; extraordinary stories were told of his powers and of his wonderful escapes from capture. He used to ride, single-handed, into the villages and the little towns on the Campo, driving a pack mule170 before him, with two revolvers in his belt, go straight to the shop or store, select what he wanted, and ride away unopposed because of the terror his exploits and his audacity177 inspired. Poor country people he usually left alone; the upper class were often stopped on the roads and robbed; but any unlucky official that fell into his hands was sure to get a severe flogging. The army officers did not like his name to be mentioned in their presence. His followers178, mounted on stolen horses, laughed at the pursuit of the regular cavalry179 sent to hunt them down, and whom they took pleasure to ambush180 most scientifically in the broken ground of their own fastness. Expeditions had been fitted out; a price had been put upon his head; even attempts had been made, treacherously181 of course, to open negotiations182 with him, without in the slightest way affecting the even tenor183 of his career. At last, in true Costaguana fashion, the Fiscal184 of Tonoro, who was ambitious of the glory of having reduced the famous Hernandez, offered him a sum of money and a safe conduct out of the country for the betrayal of his band. But Hernandez evidently was not of the stuff of which the distinguished military politicians and conspirators185 of Costaguana are made. This clever but common device (which frequently works like a charm in putting down revolutions) failed with the chief of vulgar Salteadores. It promised well for the Fiscal at first, but ended very badly for the squadron of lanceros posted (by the Fiscal’s directions) in a fold of the ground into which Hernandez had promised to lead his unsuspecting followers They came, indeed, at the appointed time, but creeping on their hands and knees through the bush, and only let their presence be known by a general discharge of firearms, which emptied many saddles. The troopers who escaped came riding very hard into Tonoro. It is said that their commanding officer (who, being better mounted, rode far ahead of the rest) afterwards got into a state of despairing intoxication186 and beat the ambitious Fiscal severely187 with the flat of his sabre in the presence of his wife and daughters, for bringing this disgrace upon the National Army. The highest civil official of Tonoro, falling to the ground in a swoon, was further kicked all over the body and rowelled with sharp spurs about the neck and face because of the great sensitiveness of his military colleague. This gossip of the inland Campo, so characteristic of the rulers of the country with its story of oppression, inefficiency188, fatuous189 methods, treachery, and savage brutality190, was perfectly known to Mrs. Gould. That it should be accepted with no indignant comment by people of intelligence, refinement191, and character as something inherent in the nature of things was one of the symptoms of degradation192 that had the power to exasperate193 her almost to the verge194 of despair. Still looking at the ingot of silver, she shook her head at Don Pepe’s remark —
“If it had not been for the lawless tyranny of your Government, Don Pepe, many an outlaw195 now with Hernandez would be living peaceably and happy by the honest work of his hands.”
“Senora,” cried Don Pepe, with enthusiasm, “it is true! It is as if God had given you the power to look into the very breasts of people. You have seen them working round you, Dona Emilia — meek58 as lambs, patient like their own burros, brave like lions. I have led them to the very muzzles196 of guns — I, who stand here before you, senora — in the time of Paez, who was full of generosity197, and in courage only approached by the uncle of Don Carlos here, as far as I know. No wonder there are bandits in the Campo when there are none but thieves, swindlers, and sanguinary macaques to rule us in Sta. Marta. However, all the same, a bandit is a bandit, and we shall have a dozen good straight Winchesters to ride with the silver down to Sulaco.”
Mrs. Gould’s ride with the first silver escort to Sulaco was the closing episode of what she called “my camp life” before she had settled in her town-house permanently198, as was proper and even necessary for the wife of the administrator199 of such an important institution as the San Tome mine. For the San Tome mine was to become an institution, a rallying point for everything in the province that needed order and stability to live. Security seemed to flow upon this land from the mountain-gorge. The authorities of Sulaco had learned that the San Tome mine could make it worth their while to leave things and people alone. This was the nearest approach to the rule of common-sense and justice Charles Gould felt it possible to secure at first. In fact, the mine, with its organization, its population growing fiercely attached to their position of privileged safety, with its armoury, with its Don Pepe, with its armed body of serenos (where, it was said, many an outlaw and deserter — and even some members of Hernandez’s band — had found a place), the mine was a power in the land. As a certain prominent man in Sta. Marta had exclaimed with a hollow laugh, once, when discussing the line of action taken by the Sulaco authorities at a time of political crisis —
“You call these men Government officials? They? Never! They are officials of the mine — officials of the Concession — I tell you.”
The prominent man (who was then a person in power, with a lemon-coloured face and a very short and curly, not to say woolly, head of hair) went so far in his temporary discontent as to shake his yellow fist under the nose of his interlocutor, and shriek201 —
“Yes! All! Silence! All! I tell you! The political Gefe, the chief of the police, the chief of the customs, the general, all, all, are the officials of that Gould.”
Thereupon an intrepid202 but low and argumentative murmur88 would flow on for a space in the ministerial cabinet, and the prominent man’s passion would end in a cynical203 shrug of the shoulders. After all, he seemed to say, what did it matter as long as the minister himself was not forgotten during his brief day of authority? But all the same, the unofficial agent of the San Tome mine, working for a good cause, had his moments of anxiety, which were reflected in his letters to Don Jose Avellanos, his maternal204 uncle.
“No sanguinary macaque from Sta. Marta shall set foot on that part of Costaguana which lies beyond the San Tome bridge,” Don Pepe used to assure Mrs. Gould. “Except, of course, as an honoured guest — for our Senor Administrador is a deep politico.” But to Charles Gould, in his own room, the old Major would remark with a grim and soldierly cheeriness, “We are all playing our heads at this game.”
Don Jose Avellanos would mutter “Imperium in imperio, Emilia, my soul,” with an air of profound self-satisfaction which, somehow, in a curious way, seemed to contain a queer admixture of bodily discomfort205. But that, perhaps, could only be visible to the initiated206. And for the initiated it was a wonderful place, this drawing-room of the Casa Gould, with its momentary207 glimpses of the master — El Senor Administrador — older, harder, mysteriously silent, with the lines deepened on his English, ruddy, out-of-doors complexion208; flitting on his thin cavalryman’s legs across the doorways209, either just “back from the mountain” or with jingling210 spurs and riding-whip under his arm, on the point of starting “for the mountain.” Then Don Pepe, modestly martial158 in his chair, the llanero who seemed somehow to have found his martial jocularity, his knowledge of the world, and his manner perfect for his station, in the midst of savage armed contests with his kind; Avellanos, polished and familiar, the diplomatist with his loquacity212 covering much caution and wisdom in delicate advice, with his manuscript of a historical work on Costaguana, entitled “Fifty Years of Misrule,” which, at present, he thought it was not prudent213 (even if it were possible) “to give to the world”; these three, and also Dona Emilia amongst them, gracious, small, and fairy-like, before the glittering tea-set, with one common master-thought in their heads, with one common feeling of a tense situation, with one ever-present aim to preserve the inviolable character of the mine at every cost. And there was also to be seen Captain Mitchell, a little apart, near one of the long windows, with an air of old-fashioned neat old bachelorhood about him, slightly pompous214, in a white waistcoat, a little disregarded and unconscious of it; utterly215 in the dark, and imagining himself to be in the thick of things. The good man, having spent a clear thirty years of his life on the high seas before getting what he called a “shore billet,” was astonished at the importance of transactions (other than relating to shipping) which take place on dry land. Almost every event out of the usual daily course “marked an epoch216” for him or else was “history”; unless with his pomposity217 struggling with a discomfited218 droop114 of his rubicund219, rather handsome face, set off by snow-white close hair and short whiskers, he would mutter —
“Ah, that! That, sir, was a mistake.”
The reception of the first consignment220 of San Tome silver for shipment to San Francisco in one of the O.S.N. Co.‘s mail-boats had, of course, “marked an epoch” for Captain Mitchell. The ingots packed in boxes of stiff ox-hide with plaited handles, small enough to be carried easily by two men, were brought down by the serenos of the mine walking in careful couples along the half-mile or so of steep, zigzag paths to the foot of the mountain. There they would be loaded into a string of two-wheeled carts, resembling roomy coffers with a door at the back, and harnessed tandem221 with two mules each, waiting under the guard of armed and mounted serenos. Don Pepe padlocked each door in succession, and at the signal of his whistle the string of carts would move off, closely surrounded by the clank of spur and carbine, with jolts222 and cracking of whips, with a sudden deep rumble over the boundary bridge (“into the land of thieves and sanguinary macaques,” Don Pepe defined that crossing); hats bobbing in the first light of the dawn, on the heads of cloaked figures; Winchesters on hip103; bridle223 hands protruding224 lean and brown from under the falling folds of the ponchos. The convoy225 skirting a little wood, along the mine trail, between the mud huts and low walls of Rincon, increased its pace on the camino real, mules urged to speed, escort galloping227, Don Carlos riding alone ahead of a dust storm affording a vague vision of long ears of mules, of fluttering little green and white flags stuck upon each cart; of raised arms in a mob of sombreros with the white gleam of ranging eyes; and Don Pepe, hardly visible in the rear of that rattling228 dust trail, with a stiff seat and impassive face, rising and falling rhythmically229 on an ewe-necked silver-bitted black brute with a hammer head.
The sleepy people in the little clusters of huts, in the small ranches230 near the road, recognized by the headlong sound the charge of the San Tome silver escort towards the crumbling231 wall of the city on the Campo side. They came to the doors to see it dash by over ruts and stones, with a clatter and clank and cracking of whips, with the reckless rush and precise driving of a field battery hurrying into action, and the solitary232 English figure of the Senor Administrador riding far ahead in the lead.
In the fenced roadside paddocks loose horses galloped233 wildly for a while; the heavy cattle stood up breast deep in the grass, lowing mutteringly at the flying noise; a meek Indian villager would glance back once and hasten to shove his loaded little donkey bodily against a wall, out of the way of the San Tome silver escort going to the sea; a small knot of chilly234 leperos under the Stone Horse of the Alameda would mutter: “Caramba!” on seeing it take a wide curve at a gallop226 and dart235 into the empty Street of the Constitution; for it was considered the correct thing, the only proper style by the mule-drivers of the San Tome mine to go through the waking town from end to end without a check in the speed as if chased by a devil.
The early sunshine glowed on the delicate primrose236, pale pink, pale blue fronts of the big houses with all their gates shut yet, and no face behind the iron bars of the windows. In the whole sunlit range of empty balconies along the street only one white figure would be visible high up above the clear pavement — the wife of the Senor Administrador — leaning over to see the escort go by to the harbour, a mass of heavy, fair hair twisted up negligently237 on her little head, and a lot of lace about the neck of her muslin wrapper. With a smile to her husband’s single, quick, upward glance, she would watch the whole thing stream past below her feet with an orderly uproar238, till she answered by a friendly sign the salute239 of the galloping Don Pepe, the stiff, deferential240 inclination241 with a sweep of the hat below the knee.
The string of padlocked carts lengthened242, the size of the escort grew bigger as the years went on. Every three months an increasing stream of treasure swept through the streets of Sulaco on its way to the strong room in the O.S.N. Co.‘s building by the harbour, there to await shipment for the North. Increasing in volume, and of immense value also; for, as Charles Gould told his wife once with some exultation243, there had never been seen anything in the world to approach the vein of the Gould Concession. For them both, each passing of the escort under the balconies of the Casa Gould was like another victory gained in the conquest of peace for Sulaco.
No doubt the initial action of Charles Gould had been helped at the beginning by a period of comparative peace which occurred just about that time; and also by the general softening244 of manners as compared with the epoch of civil wars whence had emerged the iron tyranny of Guzman Bento of fearful memory. In the contests that broke out at the end of his rule (which had kept peace in the country for a whole fifteen years) there was more fatuous imbecility, plenty of cruelty and suffering still, but much less of the old-time fierce and blindly ferocious political fanaticism245. It was all more vile200, more base, more contemptible246, and infinitely more manageable in the very outspoken247 cynicism of motives248. It was more clearly a brazen-faced scramble249 for a constantly diminishing quantity of booty; since all enterprise had been stupidly killed in the land. Thus it came to pass that the province of Sulaco, once the field of cruel party vengeances, had become in a way one of the considerable prizes of political career. The great of the earth (in Sta. Marta) reserved the posts in the old Occidental State to those nearest and dearest to them: nephews, brothers, husbands of favourite sisters, bosom250 friends, trusty supporters — or prominent supporters of whom perhaps they were afraid. It was the blessed province of great opportunities and of largest salaries; for the San Tome mine had its own unofficial pay list, whose items and amounts, fixed251 in consultation252 by Charles Gould and Senor Avellanos, were known to a prominent business man in the United States, who for twenty minutes or so in every month gave his undivided attention to Sulaco affairs. At the same time the material interests of all sorts, backed up by the influence of the San Tome mine, were quietly gathering substance in that part of the Republic. If, for instance, the Sulaco Collectorship was generally understood, in the political world of the capital, to open the way to the Ministry253 of Finance, and so on for every official post, then, on the other hand, the despondent254 business circles of the Republic had come to consider the Occidental Province as the promised land of safety, especially if a man managed to get on good terms with the administration of the mine. “Charles Gould; excellent fellow! Absolutely necessary to make sure of him before taking a single step. Get an introduction to him from Moraga if you can — the agent of the King of Sulaco, don’t you know.”
No wonder, then, that Sir John, coming from Europe to smooth the path for his railway, had been meeting the name (and even the nickname) of Charles Gould at every turn in Costaguana. The agent of the San Tome Administration in Sta. Marta (a polished, well-informed gentleman, Sir John thought him) had certainly helped so greatly in bringing about the presidential tour that he began to think that there was something in the faint whispers hinting at the immense occult influence of the Gould Concession. What was currently whispered was this — that the San Tome Administration had, in part, at least, financed the last revolution, which had brought into a five-year dictatorship Don Vincente Ribiera, a man of culture and of unblemished character, invested with a mandate255 of reform by the best elements of the State. Serious, well-informed men seemed to believe the fact, to hope for better things, for the establishment of legality, of good faith and order in public life. So much the better, then, thought Sir John. He worked always on a great scale; there was a loan to the State, and a project for systematic256 colonization257 of the Occidental Province, involved in one vast scheme with the construction of the National Central Railway. Good faith, order, honesty, peace, were badly wanted for this great development of material interests. Anybody on the side of these things, and especially if able to help, had an importance in Sir John’s eyes. He had not been disappointed in the “King of Sulaco.” The local difficulties had fallen away, as the engineer-in-chief had foretold258 they would, before Charles Gould’s mediation259. Sir John had been extremely feted in Sulaco, next to the President-Dictator, a fact which might have accounted for the evident ill-humour General Montero displayed at lunch given on board the Juno just before she was to sail, taking away from Sulaco the President-Dictator and the distinguished foreign guests in his train.
The Excellentissimo (“the hope of honest men,” as Don Jose had addressed him in a public speech delivered in the name of the Provincial260 Assembly of Sulaco) sat at the head of the long table; Captain Mitchell, positively261 stony-eyed and purple in the face with the solemnity of this “historical event,” occupied the foot as the representative of the O.S.N. Company in Sulaco, the hosts of that informal function, with the captain of the ship and some minor262 officials from the shore around him. Those cheery, swarthy little gentlemen cast jovial263 side-glances at the bottles of champagne264 beginning to pop behind the guests’ backs in the hands of the ship’s stewards265. The amber266 wine creamed up to the rims267 of the glasses.
Charles Gould had his place next to a foreign envoy268, who, in a listless undertone, had been talking to him fitfully of hunting and shooting. The well-nourished, pale face, with an eyeglass and drooping yellow moustache, made the Senor Administrador appear by contrast twice as sunbaked, more flaming red, a hundred times more intensely and silently alive. Don Jose Avellanos touched elbows with the other foreign diplomat211, a dark man with a quiet, watchful269, self-confident demeanour, and a touch of reserve. All etiquette270 being laid aside on the occasion, General Montero was the only one there in full uniform, so stiff with embroideries271 in front that his broad chest seemed protected by a cuirass of gold. Sir John at the beginning had got away from high places for the sake of sitting near Mrs. Gould.
The great financier was trying to express to her his grateful sense of her hospitality and of his obligation to her husband’s “enormous influence in this part of the country,” when she interrupted him by a low “Hush272!” The President was going to make an informal pronouncement.
The Excellentissimo was on his legs. He said only a few words, evidently deeply felt, and meant perhaps mostly for Avellanos — his old friend — as to the necessity of unremitting effort to secure the lasting132 welfare of the country emerging after this last struggle, he hoped, into a period of peace and material prosperity.
Mrs. Gould, listening to the mellow273, slightly mournful voice, looking at this rotund, dark, spectacled face, at the short body, obese274 to the point of infirmity, thought that this man of delicate and melancholy275 mind, physically276 almost a cripple, coming out of his retirement278 into a dangerous strife279 at the call of his fellows, had the right to speak with the authority of his self-sacrifice. And yet she was made uneasy. He was more pathetic than promising280, this first civilian281 Chief of the State Costaguana had ever known, pronouncing, glass in hand, his simple watchwords of honesty, peace, respect for law, political good faith abroad and at home — the safeguards of national honour.
He sat down. During the respectful, appreciative282 buzz of voices that followed the speech, General Montero raised a pair of heavy, drooping eyelids283 and rolled his eyes with a sort of uneasy dullness from face to face. The military backwoods hero of the party, though secretly impressed by the sudden novelties and splendours of his position (he had never been on board a ship before, and had hardly ever seen the sea except from a distance), understood by a sort of instinct the advantage his surly, unpolished attitude of a savage fighter gave him amongst all these refined Blanco aristocrats284. But why was it that nobody was looking at him? he wondered to himself angrily. He was able to spell out the print of newspapers, and knew that he had performed the “greatest military exploit of modern times.”
“My husband wanted the railway,” Mrs. Gould said to Sir John in the general murmur of resumed conversations. “All this brings nearer the sort of future we desire for the country, which has waited for it in sorrow long enough, God knows. But I will confess that the other day, during my afternoon drive when I suddenly saw an Indian boy ride out of a wood with the red flag of a surveying party in his hand, I felt something of a shock. The future means change — an utter change. And yet even here there are simple and picturesque285 things that one would like to preserve.”
Sir John listened, smiling. But it was his turn now to hush Mrs. Gould.
“General Montero is going to speak,” he whispered, and almost immediately added, in comic alarm, “Heavens! he’s going to propose my own health, I believe.”
General Montero had risen with a jingle286 of steel scabbard and a ripple277 of glitter on his gold-embroidered287 breast; a heavy sword-hilt appeared at his side above the edge of the table. In this gorgeous uniform, with his bull neck, his hooked nose flattened288 on the tip upon a blue-black, dyed moustache, he looked like a disguised and sinister289 vaquero. The drone of his voice had a strangely rasping, soulless ring. He floundered, lowering, through a few vague sentences; then suddenly raising his big head and his voice together, burst out harshly —
“The honour of the country is in the hands of the army. I assure you I shall be faithful to it.” He hesitated till his roaming eyes met Sir John’s face upon which he fixed a lurid290, sleepy glance; and the figure of the lately negotiated loan came into his mind. He lifted his glass. “I drink to the health of the man who brings us a million and a half of pounds.”
He tossed off his champagne, and sat down heavily with a half-surprised, half-bullying look all round the faces in the profound, as if appalled291, silence which succeeded the felicitous292 toast. Sir John did not move.
“I don’t think I am called upon to rise,” he murmured to Mrs. Gould. “That sort of thing speaks for itself.” But Don Jose Avellanos came to the rescue with a short oration293, in which he alluded294 pointedly295 to England’s goodwill296 towards Costaguana —“a goodwill,” he continued, significantly, “of which I, having been in my time accredited297 to the Court of St. James, am able to speak with some knowledge.”
Only then Sir John thought fit to respond, which he did gracefully298 in bad French, punctuated299 by bursts of applause and the “Hear! Hears!” of Captain Mitchell, who was able to understand a word now and then. Directly he had done, the financier of railways turned to Mrs. Gould —
“You were good enough to say that you intended to ask me for something,” he reminded her, gallantly300. “What is it? Be assured that any request from you would be considered in the light of a favour to myself.”
She thanked him by a gracious smile. Everybody was rising from the table.
“Let us go on deck,” she proposed, “where I’ll be able to point out to you the very object of my request.”
An enormous national flag of Costaguana, diagonal red and yellow, with two green palm trees in the middle, floated lazily at the mainmast head of the Juno. A multitude of fireworks being let off in their thousands at the water’s edge in honour of the President kept up a mysterious crepitating noise half round the harbour. Now and then a lot of rockets, swishing upwards invisibly, detonated overhead with only a puff301 of smoke in the bright sky. Crowds of people could be seen between the town gate and the harbour, under the bunches of multicoloured flags fluttering on tall poles. Faint bursts of military music would be heard suddenly, and the remote sound of shouting. A knot of ragged302 negroes at the end of the wharf303 kept on loading and firing a small iron cannon304 time after time. A greyish haze305 of dust hung thin and motionless against the sun.
Don Vincente Ribiera made a few steps under the deck-awning, leaning on the arm of Senor Avellanos; a wide circle was formed round him, where the mirthless smile of his dark lips and the sightless glitter of his spectacles could be seen turning amiably306 from side to side. The informal function arranged on purpose on board the Juno to give the President-Dictator an opportunity to meet intimately some of his most notable adherents307 in Sulaco was drawing to an end. On one side, General Montero, his bald head covered now by a plumed309 cocked hat, remained motionless on a skylight seat, a pair of big gauntleted hands folded on the hilt of the sabre standing upright between his legs. The white plume308, the coppery tint310 of his broad face, the blue-black of the moustaches under the curved beak311, the mass of gold on sleeves and breast, the high shining boots with enormous spurs, the working nostrils, the imbecile and domineering stare of the glorious victor of Rio Seco had in them something ominous312 and incredible; the exaggeration of a cruel caricature, the fatuity313 of solemn masquerading, the atrocious grotesqueness314 of some military idol315 of Aztec conception and European bedecking, awaiting the homage316 of worshippers. Don Jose approached diplomatically this weird317 and inscrutable portent318, and Mrs. Gould turned her fascinated eyes away at last.
Charles, coming up to take leave of Sir John, heard him say, as he bent over his wife’s hand, “Certainly. Of course, my dear Mrs. Gould, for a protege of yours! Not the slightest difficulty. Consider it done.”
Going ashore319 in the same boat with the Goulds, Don Jose Avellanos was very silent. Even in the Gould carriage he did not open his lips for a long time. The mules trotted320 slowly away from the wharf between the extended hands of the beggars, who for that day seemed to have abandoned in a body the portals of churches. Charles Gould sat on the back seat and looked away upon the plain. A multitude of booths made of green boughs321, of rushes, of odd pieces of plank322 eked323 out with bits of canvas had been erected all over it for the sale of cana, of dulces, of fruit, of cigars. Over little heaps of glowing charcoal324 Indian women, squatting325 on mats, cooked food in black earthen pots, and boiled the water for the mate gourds326, which they offered in soft, caressing327 voices to the country people. A racecourse had been staked out for the vaqueros; and away to the left, from where the crowd was massed thickly about a huge temporary erection, like a circus tent of wood with a conical grass roof, came the resonant328 twanging of harp19 strings329, the sharp ping of guitars, with the grave drumming throb330 of an Indian gombo pulsating331 steadily332 through the shrill136 choruses of the dancers.
Charles Gould said presently —
“All this piece of land belongs now to the Railway Company. There will be no more popular feasts held here.”
Mrs. Gould was rather sorry to think so. She took this opportunity to mention how she had just obtained from Sir John the promise that the house occupied by Giorgio Viola should not be interfered333 with. She declared she could never understand why the survey engineers ever talked of demolishing334 that old building. It was not in the way of the projected harbour branch of the line in the least.
She stopped the carriage before the door to reassure335 at once the old Genoese, who came out bare-headed and stood by the carriage step. She talked to him in Italian, of course, and he thanked her with calm dignity. An old Garibaldino was grateful to her from the bottom of his heart for keeping the roof over the heads of his wife and children. He was too old to wander any more.
“And is it for ever, signora?” he asked.
“For as long as you like.”
“Bene. Then the place must be named, It was not worth while before.”
He smiled ruggedly336, with a running together of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “I shall set about the painting of the name to-morrow.”
“And what is it going to be, Giorgio?”
“Albergo d’Italia Una,” said the old Garibaldino, looking away for a moment. “More in memory of those who have died,” he added, “than for the country stolen from us soldiers of liberty by the craft of that accursed Piedmontese race of kings and ministers.”
Mrs. Gould smiled slightly, and, bending over a little, began to inquire about his wife and children. He had sent them into town on that day. The padrona was better in health; many thanks to the signora for inquiring.
People were passing in twos and threes, in whole parties of men and women attended by trotting337 children. A horseman mounted on a silver-grey mare drew rein150 quietly in the shade of the house after taking off his hat to the party in the carriage, who returned smiles and familiar nods. Old Viola, evidently very pleased with the news he had just heard, interrupted himself for a moment to tell him rapidly that the house was secured, by the kindness of the English signora, for as long as he liked to keep it. The other listened attentively338, but made no response.
When the carriage moved on he took off his hat again, a grey sombrero with a silver cord and tassels339. The bright colours of a Mexican serape twisted on the cantle, the enormous silver buttons on the embroidered leather jacket, the row of tiny silver buttons down the seam of the trousers, the snowy linen, a silk sash with embroidered ends, the silver plates on headstall and saddle, proclaimed the unapproachable style of the famous Capataz de Cargadores — a Mediterranean sailor — got up with more finished splendour than any well-to-do young ranchero of the Campo had ever displayed on a high holiday.
“It is a great thing for me,” murmured old Giorgio, still thinking of the house, for now he had grown weary of change. “The signora just said a word to the Englishman.”
“The old Englishman who has enough money to pay for a railway? He is going off in an hour,” remarked Nostromo, carelessly. “Buon viaggio, then. I’ve guarded his bones all the way from the Entrada pass down to the plain and into Sulaco, as though he had been my own father.”
Old Giorgio only moved his head sideways absently. Nostromo pointed after the Goulds’ carriage, nearing the grass-grown gate in the old town wall that was like a wall of matted jungle.
“And I have sat alone at night with my revolver in the Company’s warehouse4 time and again by the side of that other Englishman’s heap of silver, guarding it as though it had been my own.”
Viola seemed lost in thought. “It is a great thing for me,” he repeated again, as if to himself.
“It is,” agreed the magnificent Capataz de Cargadores, calmly. “Listen, Vecchio — go in and bring me, out a cigar, but don’t look for it in my room. There’s nothing there.”
Viola stepped into the cafe and came out directly, still absorbed in his idea, and tendered him a cigar, mumbling340 thoughtfully in his moustache, “Children growing up — and girls, too! Girls!” He sighed and fell silent.
“What, only one?” remarked Nostromo, looking down with a sort of comic inquisitiveness341 at the unconscious old man. “No matter,” he added, with lofty negligence342; “one is enough till another is wanted.”
He lit it and let the match drop from his passive fingers. Giorgio Viola looked up, and said abruptly —
“My son would have been just such a fine young man as you, Gian’ Battista, if he had lived.”
“What? Your son? But you are right, padrone. If he had been like me he would have been a man.”
He turned his horse slowly, and paced on between the booths, checking the mare almost to a standstill now and then for children, for the groups of people from the distant Campo, who stared after him with admiration343. The Company’s lightermen saluted344 him from afar; and the greatly envied Capataz de Cargadores advanced, amongst murmurs345 of recognition and obsequious346 greetings, towards the huge circus-like erection. The throng347 thickened; the guitars tinkled348 louder; other horsemen sat motionless, smoking calmly above the heads of the crowd; it eddied349 and pushed before the doors of the high-roofed building, whence issued a shuffle and thumping350 of feet in time to the dance music vibrating and shrieking351 with a racking rhythm, overhung by the tremendous, sustained, hollow roar of the gombo. The barbarous and imposing352 noise of the big drum, that can madden a crowd, and that even Europeans cannot hear without a strange emotion, seemed to draw Nostromo on to its source, while a man, wrapped up in a faded, torn poncho34, walked by his stirrup, and, buffeted353 right and left, begged “his worship” insistently354 for employment on the wharf. He whined355, offering the Senor Capataz half his daily pay for the privilege of being admitted to the swaggering fraternity of Cargadores; the other half would be enough for him, he protested. But Captain Mitchell’s right-hand man —“invaluable for our work — a perfectly incorruptible fellow”— after looking down critically at the ragged mozo, shook his head without a word in the uproar going on around.
The man fell back; and a little further on Nostromo had to pull up. From the doors of the dance hall men and women emerged tottering356, streaming with sweat, trembling in every limb, to lean, panting, with staring eyes and parted lips, against the wall of the structure, where the harps357 and guitars played on with mad speed in an incessant358 roll of thunder. Hundreds of hands clapped in there; voices shrieked359, and then all at once would sink low, chanting in unison360 the refrain of a love song, with a dying fall. A red flower, flung with a good aim from somewhere in the crowd, struck the resplendent Capataz on the cheek.
He caught it as it fell, neatly361, but for some time did not turn his head. When at last he condescended362 to look round, the throng near him had parted to make way for a pretty Morenita, her hair held up by a small golden comb, who was walking towards him in the open space.
Her arms and neck emerged plump and bare from a snowy chemisette; the blue woollen skirt, with all the fullness gathered in front, scanty363 on the hips155 and tight across the back, disclosed the provoking action of her walk. She came straight on and laid her hand on the mare’s neck with a timid, coquettish look upwards out of the corner of her eyes.
“Querido,” she murmured, caressingly364, “why do you pretend not to see me when I pass?”
“Because I don’t love thee any more,” said Nostromo, deliberately365, after a moment of reflective silence.
The hand on the mare’s neck trembled suddenly. She dropped her head before all the eyes in the wide circle formed round the generous, the terrible, the inconstant Capataz de Cargadores, and his Morenita.
Nostromo, looking down, saw tears beginning to fall down her face.
“Has it come, then, ever beloved of my heart?” she whispered. “Is it true?”
“No,” said Nostromo, looking away carelessly. “It was a lie. I love thee as much as ever.”
“Is that true?” she cooed, joyously366, her cheeks still wet with tears.
“It is true.”
“True on the life?”
“As true as that; but thou must not ask me to swear it on the Madonna that stands in thy room.” And the Capataz laughed a little in response to the grins of the crowd.
She pouted367 — very pretty — a little uneasy.
“No, I will not ask for that. I can see love in your eyes.” She laid her hand on his knee. “Why are you trembling like this? From love?” she continued, while the cavernous thundering of the gombo went on without a pause. “But if you love her as much as that, you must give your Paquita a gold-mounted rosary of beads for the neck of her Madonna.”
“No,” said Nostromo, looking into her uplifted, begging eyes, which suddenly turned stony with surprise.
“No? Then what else will your worship give me on the day of the fiesta?” she asked, angrily; “so as not to shame me before all these people.”
“There is no shame for thee in getting nothing from thy lover for once.”
“True! The shame is your worship’s — my poor lover’s,” she flared368 up, sarcastically369.
Laughs were heard at her anger, at her retort. What an audacious spitfire she was! The people aware of this scene were calling out urgently to others in the crowd. The circle round the silver-grey mare narrowed slowly.
The girl went off a pace or two, confronting the mocking curiosity of the eyes, then flung back to the stirrup, tiptoeing, her enraged370 face turned up to Nostromo with a pair of blazing eyes. He bent low to her in the saddle.
“Juan,” she hissed371, “I could stab thee to the heart!”
The dreaded372 Capataz de Cargadores, magnificent and carelessly public in his amours, flung his arm round her neck and kissed her spluttering lips. A murmur went round.
“A knife!” he demanded at large, holding her firmly by the shoulder.
Twenty blades flashed out together in the circle. A young man in holiday attire, bounding in, thrust one in Nostromo’s hand and bounded back into the ranks, very proud of himself. Nostromo had not even looked at him.
“Stand on my foot,” he commanded the girl, who, suddenly subdued373, rose lightly, and when he had her up, encircling her waist, her face near to his, he pressed the knife into her little hand.
“No, Morenita! You shall not put me to shame,” he said. “You shall have your present; and so that everyone should know who is your lover to-day, you may cut all the silver buttons off my coat.”
There were shouts of laughter and applause at this witty374 freak, while the girl passed the keen blade, and the impassive rider jingled375 in his palm the increasing hoard376 of silver buttons. He eased her to the ground with both her hands full. After whispering for a while with a very strenuous377 face, she walked away, staring haughtily378, and vanished into the crowd.
The circle had broken up, and the lordly Capataz de Cargadores, the indispensable man, the tried and trusty Nostromo, the Mediterranean sailor come ashore casually379 to try his luck in Costaguana, rode slowly towards the harbour. The Juno was just then swinging round; and even as Nostromo reined up again to look on, a flag ran up on the improvised380 flagstaff erected in an ancient and dismantled381 little fort at the harbour entrance. Half a battery of field guns had been hurried over there from the Sulaco barracks for the purpose of firing the regulation salutes382 for the President-Dictator and the War Minister. As the mail-boat headed through the pass, the badly timed reports announced the end of Don Vincente Ribiera’s first official visit to Sulaco, and for Captain Mitchell the end of another “historic occasion.” Next time when the “Hope of honest men” was to come that way, a year and a half later, it was unofficially, over the mountain tracks, fleeing after a defeat on a lame166 mule, to be only just saved by Nostromo from an ignominious383 death at the hands of a mob. It was a very different event, of which Captain Mitchell used to say —
“It was history — history, sir! And that fellow of mine, Nostromo, you know, was right in it. Absolutely making history, sir.”
But this event, creditable to Nostromo, was to lead immediately to another, which could not be classed either as “history” or as “a mistake” in Captain Mitchell’s phraseology. He had another word for it.
“Sir” he used to say afterwards, “that was no mistake. It was a fatality384. A misfortune, pure and simple, sir. And that poor fellow of mine was right in it — right in the middle of it! A fatality, if ever there was one — and to my mind he has never been the same man since.”
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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efficiently
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| adv.高效率地，有能力地 | |
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plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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8
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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9
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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10
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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11
dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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12
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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13
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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14
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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15
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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16
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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17
sprawl
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| vi.躺卧，扩张，蔓延；vt.使蔓延；n.躺卧，蔓延 | |
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18
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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19
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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20
snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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21
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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22
lighters
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| n.打火机，点火器( lighter的名词复数 ) | |
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23
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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24
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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25
Mediterranean
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|
| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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26
bawling
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|
| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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27
stentorian
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|
| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
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28
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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29
obliterates
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| v.除去( obliterate的第三人称单数 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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30
stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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31
intruded
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|
| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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32
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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33
cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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34
poncho
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| n.斗篷，雨衣 | |
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35
ponchos
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| n.斗篷( poncho的名词复数 ) | |
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36
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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37
enlistment
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| n.应征入伍，获得，取得 | |
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38
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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39
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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40
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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41
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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42
federation
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| n.同盟，联邦，联合，联盟，联合会 | |
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43
founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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44
wholesale
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|
| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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45
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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46
zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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47
crumbled
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|
| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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48
rumble
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|
| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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49
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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50
patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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51
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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52
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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53
secluded
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|
| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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54
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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55
effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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56
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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57
indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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58
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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59
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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60
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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61
stony
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|
| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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62
persevering
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| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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63
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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64
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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65
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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66
kindly
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|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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67
drollery
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| n.开玩笑，说笑话；滑稽可笑的图画（或故事、小戏等） | |
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68
ironic
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|
| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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69
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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70
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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71
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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72
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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73
bullion
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| n.金条，银条 | |
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74
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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75
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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76
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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77
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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78
apparently
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|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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79
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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80
linen
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|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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81
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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82
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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83
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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84
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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85
standing
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|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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86
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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87
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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88
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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89
revolving
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|
| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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90
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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91
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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92
squads
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| n.（军队中的）班( squad的名词复数 )；（暗杀）小组；体育运动的运动（代表）队；（对付某类犯罪活动的）警察队伍 | |
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93
zigzag
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|
| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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94
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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95
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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96
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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97
pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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98
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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99
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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100
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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101
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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102
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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103
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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104
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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105
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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106
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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107
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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108
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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109
urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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110
purloined
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| v.偷窃( purloin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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112
pastors
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| n.（基督教的）牧师( pastor的名词复数 ) | |
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113
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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114
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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115
sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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116
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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117
gunpowder
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| n.火药 | |
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118
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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119
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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120
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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121
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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122
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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123
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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124
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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125
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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126
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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127
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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128
munificence
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| n.宽宏大量，慷慨给与 | |
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129
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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130
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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131
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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132
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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133
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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134
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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135
shrilling
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的现在分词 )； 凄厉 | |
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136
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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137
barricaded
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| 设路障于，以障碍物阻塞( barricade的过去式和过去分词 )； 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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138
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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139
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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140
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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141
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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142
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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143
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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144
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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145
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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146
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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147
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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148
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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149
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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150
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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151
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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152
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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153
fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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154
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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155
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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156
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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157
martially
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| adv.好战地；勇敢地 | |
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158
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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159
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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160
excavations
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| n.挖掘( excavation的名词复数 )；开凿；开凿的洞穴（或山路等）；（发掘出来的）古迹 | |
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161
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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162
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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163
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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164
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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165
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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166
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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167
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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168
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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169
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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170
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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171
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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172
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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173
emergence
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| n.浮现，显现，出现，（植物）突出体 | |
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174
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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175
atrocity
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| n.残暴，暴行 | |
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176
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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177
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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178
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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179
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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180
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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181
treacherously
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| 背信弃义地； 背叛地； 靠不住地； 危险地 | |
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182
negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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183
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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184
fiscal
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| adj.财政的，会计的，国库的，国库岁入的 | |
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185
conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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186
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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187
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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188
inefficiency
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| n.无效率，无能；无效率事例 | |
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189
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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190
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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191
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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192
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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193
exasperate
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|
| v.激怒，使（疾病）加剧，使恶化 | |
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194
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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195
outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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196
muzzles
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| 枪口( muzzle的名词复数 )； （防止动物咬人的）口套； （四足动物的）鼻口部； （狗）等凸出的鼻子和口 | |
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197
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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198
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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199
administrator
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| n.经营管理者，行政官员 | |
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200
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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201
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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202
intrepid
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|
| adj.无畏的，刚毅的 | |
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203
cynical
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|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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204
maternal
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|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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205
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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206
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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207
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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208
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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209
doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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210
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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211
diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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212
loquacity
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| n.多话，饶舌 | |
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213
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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214
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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215
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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216
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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217
pomposity
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| n.浮华；虚夸；炫耀；自负 | |
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218
discomfited
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| v.使为难( discomfit的过去式和过去分词)；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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219
rubicund
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| adj.(脸色)红润的 | |
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220
consignment
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| n.寄售；发货；委托；交运货物 | |
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221
tandem
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| n.同时发生；配合；adv.一个跟着一个地；纵排地；adj.（两匹马）前后纵列的 | |
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222
jolts
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的名词复数 ) | |
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223
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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224
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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225
convoy
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| vt.护送，护卫，护航；n.护送；护送队 | |
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226
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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227
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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228
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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229
rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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230
ranches
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| 大农场， （兼种果树，养鸡等的）大牧场( ranch的名词复数 ) | |
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231
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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232
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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233
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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234
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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235
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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236
primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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237
negligently
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238
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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239
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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240
deferential
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| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
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241
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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242
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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243
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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244
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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245
fanaticism
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| n.狂热，盲信 | |
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246
contemptible
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|
| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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247
outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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248
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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249
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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250
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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251
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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252
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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253
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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254
despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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255
mandate
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| n.托管地；命令，指示 | |
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256
systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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257
colonization
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| 殖民地的开拓，殖民，殖民地化； 移殖 | |
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258
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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259
mediation
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| n.调解 | |
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260
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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261
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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262
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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263
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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264
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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265
stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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266
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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267
rims
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| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
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268
envoy
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| n.使节，使者，代表，公使 | |
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269
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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270
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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271
embroideries
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| 刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 )； 刺绣品； 刺绣法 | |
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272
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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273
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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274
obese
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| adj.过度肥胖的，肥大的 | |
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275
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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276
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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277
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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278
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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279
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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280
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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281
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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282
appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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283
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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284
aristocrats
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| n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
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285
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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286
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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287
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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288
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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289
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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290
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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291
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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292
felicitous
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| adj.恰当的，巧妙的；n.恰当，贴切 | |
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293
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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294
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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295
pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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296
goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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297
accredited
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| adj.可接受的；可信任的；公认的；质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
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298
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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299
punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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300
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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301
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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302
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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303
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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304
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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305
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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306
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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307
adherents
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| n.支持者，拥护者( adherent的名词复数 )；党羽；徒子徒孙 | |
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308
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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309
plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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310
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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311
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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312
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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313
fatuity
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| n.愚蠢，愚昧 | |
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314
grotesqueness
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315
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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316
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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317
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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318
portent
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| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
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319
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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320
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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321
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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322
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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323
eked
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| v.（靠节省用量）使…的供应持久( eke的过去式和过去分词 )；节约使用；竭力维持生计；勉强度日 | |
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324
charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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325
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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326
gourds
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| n.葫芦( gourd的名词复数 ) | |
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327
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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328
resonant
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| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
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329
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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330
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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331
pulsating
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|
| adj.搏动的，脉冲的v.有节奏地舒张及收缩( pulsate的现在分词 )；跳动；脉动；受（激情）震动 | |
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332
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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333
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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334
demolishing
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| v.摧毁( demolish的现在分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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335
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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336
ruggedly
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| 险峻地； 粗暴地； （面容）多皱纹地； 粗线条地 | |
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337
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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338
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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339
tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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340
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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341
inquisitiveness
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| 好奇，求知欲 | |
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342
negligence
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| n.疏忽，玩忽，粗心大意 | |
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343
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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344
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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345
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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346
obsequious
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|
| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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347
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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348
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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349
eddied
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| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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350
thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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351
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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352
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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353
buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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354
insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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355
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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356
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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357
harps
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| abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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358
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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359
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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360
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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361
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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362
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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363
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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364
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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365
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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366
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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367
pouted
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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368
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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369
sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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370
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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371
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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372
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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373
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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374
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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375
jingled
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| 喝醉的 | |
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376
hoard
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| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
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377
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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378
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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379
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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380
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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381
dismantled
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| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
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382
salutes
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| n.致敬，欢迎，敬礼( salute的名词复数 )v.欢迎，致敬( salute的第三人称单数 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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383
ignominious
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| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
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fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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