Charles Gould rode on, and turned into the archway of his house. In the patio8 littered with straw, a practicante, one of Dr. Monygham’s native assistants, sat on the ground with his back against the rim9 of the fountain, fingering a guitar discreetly10, while two girls of the lower class, standing11 up before him, shuffled12 their feet a little and waved their arms, humming a popular dance tune13.
Most of the wounded during the two days of rioting had been taken away already by their friends and relations, but several figures could be seen sitting up balancing their bandaged heads in time to the music. Charles Gould dismounted. A sleepy mozo coming out of the bakery door took hold of the horse’s bridle14; the practicante endeavoured to conceal15 his guitar hastily; the girls, unabashed, stepped back smiling; and Charles Gould, on his way to the staircase, glanced into a dark corner of the patio at another group, a mortally wounded Cargador with a woman kneeling by his side; she mumbled16 prayers rapidly, trying at the same time to force a piece of orange between the stiffening17 lips of the dying man.
The cruel futility18 of things stood unveiled in the levity19 and sufferings of that incorrigible20 people; the cruel futility of lives and of deaths thrown away in the vain endeavour to attain21 an enduring solution of the problem. Unlike Decoud, Charles Gould could not play lightly a part in a tragic22 farce23. It was tragic enough for him in all conscience, but he could see no farcical element. He suffered too much under a conviction of irremediable folly24. He was too severely25 practical and too idealistic to look upon its terrible humours with amusement, as Martin Decoud, the imaginative materialist26, was able to do in the dry light of his scepticism. To him, as to all of us, the compromises with his conscience appeared uglier than ever in the light of failure. His taciturnity, assumed with a purpose, had prevented him from tampering27 openly with his thoughts; but the Gould Concession28 had insidiously29 corrupted30 his judgment31. He might have known, he said to himself, leaning over the balustrade of the corredor, that Ribierism could never come to anything. The mine had corrupted his judgment by making him sick of bribing32 and intriguing33 merely to have his work left alone from day to day. Like his father, he did not like to be robbed. It exasperated34 him. He had persuaded himself that, apart from higher considerations, the backing up of Don Jose’s hopes of reform was good business. He had gone forth35 into the senseless fray36 as his poor uncle, whose sword hung on the wall of his study, had gone forth — in the defence of the commonest decencies of organized society. Only his weapon was the wealth of the mine, more far-reaching and subtle than an honest blade of steel fitted into a simple brass37 guard.
More dangerous to the wielder38, too, this weapon of wealth, double-edged with the cupidity39 and misery40 of mankind, steeped in all the vices41 of self-indulgence as in a concoction42 of poisonous roots, tainting43 the very cause for which it is drawn44, always ready to turn awkwardly in the hand. There was nothing for it now but to go on using it. But he promised himself to see it shattered into small bits before he let it be wrenched45 from his grasp.
After all, with his English parentage and English upbringing, he perceived that he was an adventurer in Costaguana, the descendant of adventurers enlisted46 in a foreign legion, of men who had sought fortune in a revolutionary war, who had planned revolutions, who had believed in revolutions. For all the uprightness of his character, he had something of an adventurer’s easy morality which takes count of personal risk in the ethical47 appraising48 of his action. He was prepared, if need be, to blow up the whole San Tome mountain sky high out of the territory of the Republic. This resolution expressed the tenacity49 of his character, the remorse50 of that subtle conjugal51 infidelity through which his wife was no longer the sole mistress of his thoughts, something of his father’s imaginative weakness, and something, too, of the spirit of a buccaneer throwing a lighted match into the magazine rather than surrender his ship.
Down below in the patio the wounded Cargador had breathed his last. The woman cried out once, and her cry, unexpected and shrill53, made all the wounded sit up. The practicante scrambled54 to his feet, and, guitar in hand, gazed steadily55 in her direction with elevated eyebrows56. The two girls — sitting now one on each side of their wounded relative, with their knees drawn up and long cigars between their lips — nodded at each other significantly.
Charles Gould, looking down over the balustrade, saw three men dressed ceremoniously in black frock-coats with white shirts, and wearing European round hats, enter the patio from the street. One of them, head and shoulders taller than the two others, advanced with marked gravity, leading the way. This was Don Juste Lopez, accompanied by two of his friends, members of Assembly, coming to call upon the Administrador of the San Tome mine at this early hour. They saw him, too, waved their hands to him urgently, walking up the stairs as if in procession.
Don Juste, astonishingly changed by having shaved off altogether his damaged beard, had lost with it ninetenths of his outward dignity. Even at that time of serious pre-occupation Charles Gould could not help noting the revealed ineptitude57 in the aspect of the man. His companions looked crestfallen58 and sleepy. One kept on passing the tip of his tongue over his parched59 lips; the other’s eyes strayed dully over the tiled floor of the corredor, while Don Juste, standing a little in advance, harangued60 the Senor Administrador of the San Tome mine. It was his firm opinion that forms had to be observed. A new governor is always visited by deputations from the Cabildo, which is the Municipal Council, from the Consulado, the commercial Board, and it was proper that the Provincial61 Assembly should send a deputation, too, if only to assert the existence of parliamentary institutions. Don Juste proposed that Don Carlos Gould, as the most prominent citizen of the province, should join the Assembly’s deputation. His position was exceptional, his personality known through the length and breadth of the whole Republic. Official courtesies must not be neglected, if they are gone through with a bleeding heart. The acceptance of accomplished62 facts may save yet the precious vestiges63 of parliamentary institutions. Don Juste’s eyes glowed dully; he believed in parliamentary institutions — and the convinced drone of his voice lost itself in the stillness of the house like the deep buzzing of some ponderous64 insect.
Charles Gould had turned round to listen patiently, leaning his elbow on the balustrade. He shook his head a little, refusing, almost touched by the anxious gaze of the President of the Provincial Assembly. It was not Charles Gould’s policy to make the San Tome mine a party to any formal proceedings65.
“My advice, senores, is that you should wait for your fate in your houses. There is no necessity for you to give yourselves up formally into Montero’s hands. Submission66 to the inevitable67, as Don Juste calls it, is all very well, but when the inevitable is called Pedrito Montero there is no need to exhibit pointedly68 the whole extent of your surrender. The fault of this country is the want of measure in political life. Flat acquiescence69 in illegality, followed by sanguinary reaction — that, senores, is not the way to a stable and prosperous future.”
Charles Gould stopped before the sad bewilderment of the faces, the wondering, anxious glances of the eyes. The feeling of pity for those men, putting all their trust into words of some sort, while murder and rapine stalked over the land, had betrayed him into what seemed empty loquacity70. Don Juste murmured —
“You are abandoning us, Don Carlos. . . . And yet, parliamentary institutions —”
He could not finish from grief. For a moment he put his hand over his eyes. Charles Gould, in his fear of empty loquacity, made no answer to the charge. He returned in silence their ceremonious bows. His taciturnity was his refuge. He understood that what they sought was to get the influence of the San Tome mine on their side. They wanted to go on a conciliating errand to the victor under the wing of the Gould Concession. Other public bodies — the Cabildo, the Consulado — would be coming, too, presently, seeking the support of the most stable, the most effective force they had ever known to exist in their province.
The doctor, arriving with his sharp, jerky walk, found that the master had retired71 into his own room with. orders not to be disturbed on any account. But Dr. Monygham was not anxious to see Charles Gould at once. He spent some time in a rapid examination of his wounded. He gazed down upon each in turn, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger72; his steady stare met without expression their silently inquisitive73 look. All these cases were doing well; but when he came to the dead Cargador he stopped a little longer, surveying not the man who had ceased to suffer, but the woman kneeling in silent contemplation of the rigid74 face, with its pinched nostrils75 and a white gleam in the imperfectly closed eyes. She lifted her head slowly, and said in a dull voice —
“It is not long since he had become a Cargador — only a few weeks. His worship the Capataz had accepted him after many entreaties76.”
“I am not responsible for the great Capataz,” muttered the doctor, moving off.
Directing his course upstairs towards the door of Charles Gould’s room, the doctor at the last moment hesitated; then, turning away from the handle with a shrug77 of his uneven78 shoulders, slunk off hastily along the corredor in search of Mrs. Gould’s camerista.
Leonardo told him that the senora had not risen yet. The senora had given into her charge the girls belonging to that Italian posadero. She, Leonarda, had put them to bed in her own room. The fair girl had cried herself to sleep, but the dark one — the bigger — had not closed her eyes yet. She sat up in bed clutching the sheets right up under her chin and staring before her like a little witch. Leonarda did not approve of the Viola children being admitted to the house. She made this feeling clear by the indifferent tone in which she inquired whether their mother was dead yet. As to the senora, she must be asleep. Ever since she had gone into her room after seeing the departure of Dona Antonia with her dying father, there had been no sound behind her door.
The doctor, rousing himself out of profound reflection, told her abruptly79 to call her mistress at once. He hobbled off to wait for Mrs. Gould in the sala. He was very tired, but too excited to sit down. In this great drawing-room, now empty, in which his withered80 soul had been refreshed after many arid81 years and his outcast spirit had accepted silently the toleration of many side-glances, he wandered haphazard82 amongst the chairs and tables till Mrs. Gould, enveloped83 in a morning wrapper, came in rapidly.
“You know that I never approved of the silver being sent away,” the doctor began at once, as a preliminary to the narrative84 of his night’s adventures in association with Captain Mitchell, the engineer-in-chief, and old Viola, at Sotillo’s headquarters. To the doctor, with his special conception of this political crisis, the removal of the silver had seemed an irrational85 and ill-omened measure. It was as if a general were sending the best part of his troops away on the eve of battle upon some recondite86 pretext87. The whole lot of ingots might have been concealed88 somewhere where they could have been got at for the purpose of staving off the dangers which were menacing the security of the Gould Concession. The Administrador had acted as if the immense and powerful prosperity of the mine had been founded on methods of probity89, on the sense of usefulness. And it was nothing of the kind. The method followed had been the only one possible. The Gould Concession had ransomed90 its way through all those years. It was a nauseous process. He quite understood that Charles Gould had got sick of it and had left the old path to back up that hopeless attempt at reform. The doctor did not believe in the reform of Costaguana. And now the mine was back again in its old path, with the disadvantage that henceforth it had to deal not only with the greed provoked by its wealth, but with the resentment91 awakened92 by the attempt to free itself from its bondage93 to moral corruption94. That was the penalty of failure. What made him uneasy was that Charles Gould seemed to him to have weakened at the decisive moment when a frank return to the old methods was the only chance. Listening to Decoud’s wild scheme had been a weakness.
The doctor flung up his arms, exclaiming, “Decoud! Decoud!” He hobbled about the room with slight, angry laughs. Many years ago both his ankles had been seriously damaged in the course of a certain investigation95 conducted in the castle of Sta. Marta by a commission composed of military men. Their nomination96 had been signified to them unexpectedly at the dead of night, with scowling97 brow, flashing eyes, and in a tempestuous98 voice, by Guzman Bento. The old tyrant100, maddened by one of his sudden accesses of suspicion, mingled101 spluttering appeals to their fidelity52 with imprecations and horrible menaces. The cells and casements102 of the castle on the hill had been already filled with prisoners. The commission was charged now with the task of discovering the iniquitous103 conspiracy104 against the Citizen-Saviour of his country.
Their dread105 of the raving106 tyrant translated itself into a hasty ferocity of procedure. The Citizen-Saviour was not accustomed to wait. A conspiracy had to be discovered. The courtyards of the castle resounded107 with the clanking of leg-irons, sounds of blows, yells of pain; and the commission of high officers laboured feverishly108, concealing109 their distress110 and apprehensions111 from each other, and especially from their secretary, Father Beron, an army chaplain, at that time very much in the confidence of the Citizen-Saviour. That priest was a big round-shouldered man, with an unclean-looking, overgrown tonsure112 on the top of his flat head, of a dingy113, yellow complexion114, softly fat, with greasy115 stains all down the front of his lieutenant’s uniform, and a small cross embroidered116 in white cotton on his left breast. He had a heavy nose and a pendant lip. Dr. Monygham remembered him still. He remembered him against all the force of his will striving its utmost to forget. Father Beron had been adjoined to the commission by Guzman Bento expressly for the purpose that his enlightened zeal117 should assist them in their labours. Dr. Monygham could by no manner of means forget the zeal of Father Beron, or his face, or the pitiless, monotonous118 voice in which he pronounced the words, “Will you confess now?”
This memory did not make him shudder119, but it had made of him what he was in the eyes of respectable people, a man careless of common decencies, something between a clever vagabond and a disreputable doctor. But not all respectable people would have had the necessary delicacy120 of sentiment to understand with what trouble of mind and accuracy of vision Dr. Monygham, medical officer of the San Tome mine, remembered Father Beron, army chaplain, and once a secretary of a military commission. After all these years Dr. Monygham, in his rooms at the end of the hospital building in the San Tome gorge121, remembered Father Beron as distinctly as ever. He remembered that priest at night, sometimes, in his sleep. On such nights the doctor waited for daylight with a candle lighted, and walking the whole length of his rooms to and fro, staring down at his bare feet, his arms hugging his sides tightly. He would dream of Father Beron sitting at the end of a long black table, behind which, in a row, appeared the heads, shoulders, and epaulettes of the military members, nibbling122 the feather of a quill123 pen, and listening with weary and impatient scorn to the protestations of some prisoner calling heaven to witness of his innocence124, till he burst out, “What’s the use of wasting time over that miserable125 nonsense! Let me take him outside for a while.” And Father Beron would go outside after the clanking prisoner, led away between two soldiers. Such interludes happened on many days, many times, with many prisoners. When the prisoner returned he was ready to make a full confession126, Father Beron would declare, leaning forward with that dull, surfeited127 look which can be seen in the eyes of gluttonous128 persons after a heavy meal.
The priest’s inquisitorial instincts suffered but little from the want of classical apparatus129 of the Inquisition At no time of the world’s history have men been at a loss how to inflict130 mental and bodily anguish131 upon their fellow-creatures. This aptitude132 came to them in the growing complexity133 of their passions and the early refinement134 of their ingenuity135. But it may safely be said that primeval man did not go to the trouble of inventing tortures. He was indolent and pure of heart. He brained his neighbour ferociously136 with a stone axe137 from necessity and without malice138. The stupidest mind may invent a rankling139 phrase or brand the innocent with a cruel aspersion140. A piece of string and a ramrod; a few muskets141 in combination with a length of hide rope; or even a simple mallet142 of heavy, hard wood applied143 with a swing to human fingers or to the joints144 of a human body is enough for the infliction145 of the most exquisite146 torture. The doctor had been a very stubborn prisoner, and, as a natural consequence of that “bad disposition” (so Father Beron called it), his subjugation147 had been very crushing and very complete. That is why the limp in his walk, the twist of his shoulders, the scars on his cheeks were so pronounced. His confessions148, when they came at last, were very complete, too. Sometimes on the nights when he walked the floor, he wondered, grinding his teeth with shame and rage, at the fertility of his imagination when stimulated149 by a sort of pain which makes truth, honour, selfrespect, and life itself matters of little moment.
And he could not forget Father Beron with his monotonous phrase, “Will you confess now?” reaching him in an awful iteration and lucidity150 of meaning through the delirious151 incoherence of unbearable152 pain. He could not forget. But that was not the worst. Had he met Father Beron in the street after all these years Dr. Monygham was sure he would have quailed153 before him. This contingency154 was not to be feared now. Father Beron was dead; but the sickening certitude prevented Dr. Monygham from looking anybody in the face.
Dr. Monygham. had become, in a manner, the slave of a ghost. It was obviously impossible to take his knowledge of Father Beron home to Europe. When making his extorted155 confessions to the Military Board, Dr. Monygham was not seeking to avoid death. He longed for it. Sitting half-naked for hours on the wet earth of his prison, and so motionless that the spiders, his companions, attached their webs to his matted hair, he consoled the misery of his soul with acute reasonings that he had confessed to crimes enough for a sentence of death — that they had gone too far with him to let him live to tell the tale.
But, as if by a refinement of cruelty, Dr. Monygham was left for months to decay slowly in the darkness of his grave-like prison. It was no doubt hoped that it would finish him off without the trouble of an execution; but Dr. Monygham had an iron constitution. It was Guzman Bento who died, not by the knife thrust of a conspirator156, but from a stroke of apoplexy, and Dr. Monygham was liberated157 hastily. His fetters158 were struck off by the light of a candle, which, after months of gloom, hurt his eyes so much that he had to cover his face with his hands. He was raised up. His heart was beating violently with the fear of this liberty. When he tried to walk the extraordinary lightness of his feet made him giddy, and he fell down. Two sticks were thrust into his hands, and he was pushed out of the passage. It was dusk; candles glimmered159 already in the windows of the officers’ quarters round the courtyard; but the twilight160 sky dazed him by its enormous and overwhelming brilliance161. A thin poncho162 hung over his naked, bony shoulders; the rags of his trousers came down no lower than his knees; an eighteen months’ growth of hair fell in dirty grey locks on each side of his sharp cheek-bones. As he dragged himself past the guard-room door, one of the soldiers, lolling outside, moved by some obscure impulse, leaped forward with a strange laugh and rammed164 a broken old straw hat on his head. And Dr. Monygham, after having tottered165, continued on his way. He advanced one stick, then one maimed foot, then the other stick; the other foot followed only a very short distance along the ground, toilfully, as though it were almost too heavy to be moved at all; and yet his legs under the hanging angles of the poncho appeared no thicker than the two sticks in his hands. A ceaseless trembling agitated166 his bent99 body, all his wasted limbs, his bony head, the conical, ragged163 crown of the sombrero, whose ample flat rim rested on his shoulders.
In such conditions of manner and attire167 did Dr. Monygham go forth to take possession of his liberty. And these conditions seemed to bind168 him indissolubly to the land of Costaguana like an awful procedure of naturalization, involving him deep in the national life, far deeper than any amount of success and honour could have done. They did away with his Europeanism; for Dr. Monygham had made himself an ideal conception of his disgrace. It was a conception eminently169 fit and proper for an officer and a gentleman. Dr. Monygham, before he went out to Costaguana, had been surgeon in one of Her Majesty’s regiments170 of foot. It was a conception which took no account of physiological171 facts or reasonable arguments; but it was not stupid for all that. It was simple. A rule of conduct resting mainly on severe rejections172 is necessarily simple. Dr. Monygham’s view of what it behoved him to do was severe; it was an ideal view, in so much that it was the imaginative exaggeration of a correct feeling. It was also, in its force, influence, and persistency173, the view of an eminently loyal nature.
There was a great fund of loyalty174 in Dr. Monygham’s nature. He had settled it all on Mrs. Gould’s head. He believed her worthy175 of every devotion. At the bottom of his heart he felt an angry uneasiness before the prosperity of the San Tome mine, because its growth was robbing her of all peace of mind. Costaguana was no place for a woman of that kind. What could Charles Gould have been thinking of when he brought her out there! It was outrageous176! And the doctor had watched the course of events with a grim and distant reserve which, he imagined, his lamentable177 history imposed upon him.
Loyalty to Mrs. Gould could not, however, leave out of account the safety of her husband. The doctor had contrived178 to be in town at the critical time because he mistrusted Charles Gould. He considered him hopelessly infected with the madness of revolutions. That is why he hobbled in distress in the drawing-room of the Casa Gould on that morning, exclaiming, “Decoud, Decoud!” in a tone of mournful irritation179.
Mrs. Gould, her colour heightened, and with glistening180 eyes, looked straight before her at the sudden enormity of that disaster. The finger-tips on one hand rested lightly on a low little table by her side, and the arm trembled right up to the shoulder. The sun, which looks late upon Sulaco, issuing in all the fulness of its power high up on the sky from behind the dazzling snow-edge of Higuerota, had precipitated181 the delicate, smooth, pearly greyness of light, in which the town lies steeped during the early hours, into sharp-cut masses of black shade and spaces of hot, blinding glare. Three long rectangles of sunshine fell through the windows of the sala; while just across the street the front of the Avellanos’s house appeared very sombre in its own shadow seen through the flood of light.
A voice said at the door, “What of Decoud?”
It was Charles Gould. They had not heard him coming along the corredor. His glance just glided182 over his wife and struck full at the doctor.
“You have brought some news, doctor?”
Dr. Monygham blurted183 it all out at once, in the rough. For some time after he had done, the Administrador of the San Tome mine remained looking at him without a word. Mrs. Gould sank into a low chair with her hands lying on her lap. A silence reigned184 between those three motionless persons. Then Charles Gould spoke185 —
“You must want some breakfast.”
He stood aside to let his wife pass first. She caught up her husband’s hand and pressed it as she went out, raising her handkerchief to her eyes. The sight of her husband had brought Antonia’s position to her mind, and she could not contain her tears at the thought of the poor girl. When she rejoined the two men in the diningroom after having bathed her face, Charles Gould was saying to the doctor across the table —
“No, there does not seem any room for doubt.”
And the doctor assented186.
“No, I don’t see myself how we could question that wretched Hirsch’s tale. It’s only too true, I fear.”
She sat down desolately187 at the head of the table and looked from one to the other. The two men, without absolutely turning their heads away, tried to avoid her glance. The doctor even made a show of being hungry; he seized his knife and fork, and began to eat with emphasis, as if on the stage. Charles Gould made no pretence188 of the sort; with his elbows raised squarely, he twisted both ends of his flaming moustaches — they were so long that his hands were quite away from his face.
“I am not surprised,” he muttered, abandoning his moustaches and throwing one arm over the back of his chair. His face was calm with that immobility of expression which betrays the intensity189 of a mental struggle. He felt that this accident had brought to a point all the consequences involved in his line of conduct, with its conscious and subconscious190 intentions. There must be an end now of this silent reserve, of that air of impenetrability behind which he had been safeguarding his dignity. It was the least ignoble191 form of dissembling forced upon him by that parody192 of civilized193 institutions which offended his intelligence, his uprightness, and his sense of right. He was like his father. He had no ironic194 eye. He was not amused at the absurdities195 that prevail in this world. They hurt him in his innate196 gravity. He felt that the miserable death of that poor Decoud took from him his inaccessible197 position of a force in the background. It committed him openly unless he wished to throw up the game — and that was impossible. The material interests required from him the sacrifice of his aloofness198 — perhaps his own safety too. And he reflected that Decoud’s separationist plan had not gone to the bottom with the lost silver.
The only thing that was not changed was his position towards Mr. Holroyd. The head of silver and steel interests had entered into Costaguana affairs with a sort of passion. Costaguana had become necessary to his existence; in the San Tome mine he had found the imaginative satisfaction which other minds would get from drama, from art, or from a risky199 and fascinating sport. It was a special form of the great man’s extravagance, sanctioned by a moral intention, big enough to flatter his vanity. Even in this aberration200 of his genius he served the progress of the world. Charles Gould felt sure of being understood with precision and judged with the indulgence of their common passion. Nothing now could surprise or startle this great man. And Charles Gould imagined himself writing a letter to San Francisco in some such words: “ . . . . The men at the head of the movement are dead or have fled; the civil organization of the province is at an end for the present; the Blanco party in Sulaco has collapsed201 inexcusably, but in the characteristic manner of this country. But Barrios, untouched in Cayta, remains202 still available. I am forced to take up openly the plan of a provincial revolution as the only way of placing the enormous material interests involved in the prosperity and peace of Sulaco in a position of permanent safety . . . .” That was clear. He saw these words as if written in letters of fire upon the wall at which he was gazing abstractedly.
Mrs Gould watched his abstraction with dread. It was a domestic and frightful203 phenomenon that darkened and chilled the house for her like a thundercloud passing over the sun. Charles Gould’s fits of abstraction depicted204 the energetic concentration of a will haunted by a fixed205 idea. A man haunted by a fixed idea is insane. He is dangerous even if that idea is an idea of justice; for may he not bring the heaven down pitilessly upon a loved head? The eyes of Mrs. Gould, watching her husband’s profile, filled with tears again. And again she seemed to see the despair of the unfortunate Antonia.
“What would I have done if Charley had been drowned while we were engaged?” she exclaimed, mentally, with horror. Her heart turned to ice, while her cheeks flamed up as if scorched206 by the blaze of a funeral pyre consuming all her earthly affections. The tears burst out of her eyes.
“Antonia will kill herself!” she cried out.
This cry fell into the silence of the room with strangely little effect. Only the doctor, crumbling207 up a piece of bread, with his head inclined on one side, raised his face, and the few long hairs sticking out of his shaggy eyebrows stirred in a slight frown. Dr. Monygham thought quite sincerely that Decoud was a singularly unworthy object for any woman’s affection. Then he lowered his head again, with a curl of his lip, and his heart full of tender admiration208 for Mrs. Gould.
“She thinks of that girl,” he said to himself; “she thinks of the Viola children; she thinks of me; of the wounded; of the miners; she always thinks of everybody who is poor and miserable! But what will she do if Charles gets the worst of it in this infernal scrimmage those confounded Avellanos have drawn him into? No one seems to be thinking of her.”
Charles Gould, staring at the wall, pursued his reflections subtly.
“I shall write to Holroyd that the San Tome mine is big enough to take in hand the making of a new State. It’ll please him. It’ll reconcile him to the risk.”
But was Barrios really available? Perhaps. But he was inaccessible. To send off a boat to Cayta was no longer possible, since Sotillo was master of the harbour, and had a steamer at his disposal. And now, with all the democrats209 in the province up, and every Campo township in a state of disturbance210, where could he find a man who would make his way successfully overland to Cayta with a message, a ten days’ ride at least; a man of courage and resolution, who would avoid arrest or murder, and if arrested would faithfully eat the paper? The Capataz de Cargadores would have been just such a man. But the Capataz of the Cargadores was no more.
And Charles Gould, withdrawing his eyes from the wall, said gently, “That Hirsch! What an extraordinary thing! Saved himself by clinging to the anchor, did he? I had no idea that he was still in Sulaco. I thought he had gone back overland to Esmeralda more than a week ago. He came here once to talk to me about his hide business and some other things. I made it clear to him that nothing could be done.”
“He was afraid to start back on account of Hernandez being about,” remarked the doctor.
“And but for him we might not have known anything of what has happened,” marvelled211 Charles Gould.
Mrs. Gould cried out —
“Antonia must not know! She must not be told. Not now.”
“Nobody’s likely to carry the news,” remarked the doctor. “It’s no one’s interest. Moreover, the people here are afraid of Hernandez as if he were the devil.” He turned to Charles Gould. “It’s even awkward, because if you wanted to communicate with the refugees you could find no messenger. When Hernandez was ranging hundreds of miles away from here the Sulaco populace used to shudder at the tales of him roasting his prisoners alive.”
“Yes,” murmured Charles Gould; “Captain Mitchell’s Capataz was the only man in the town who had seen Hernandez eye to eye. Father Corbelan employed him. He opened the communications first. It is a pity that —”
His voice was covered by the booming of the great bell of the cathedral. Three single strokes, one after another, burst out explosively, dying away in deep and mellow212 vibrations213. And then all the bells in the tower of every church, convent, or chapel214 in town, even those that had remained shut up for years, pealed215 out together with a crash. In this furious flood of metallic216 uproar217 there was a power of suggesting images of strife218 and violence which blanched219 Mrs. Gould’s cheek. Basilio, who had been waiting at table, shrinking within himself, clung to the sideboard with chattering220 teeth. It was impossible to hear yourself speak.
“Shut these windows!” Charles Gould yelled at him, angrily. All the other servants, terrified at what they took for the signal of a general massacre221, had rushed upstairs, tumbling over each other, men and women, the obscure and generally invisible population of the ground floor on the four sides of the patio. The women, screaming “Misericordia!” ran right into the room, and, falling on their knees against the walls, began to cross themselves convulsively. The staring heads of men blocked the doorway222 in an instant — mozos from the stable, gardeners, nondescript helpers living on the crumbs223 of the munificent224 house — and Charles Gould beheld225 all the extent of his domestic establishment, even to the gatekeeper. This was a half-paralyzed old man, whose long white locks fell down to his shoulders: an heirloom taken up by Charles Gould’s familial piety226. He could remember Henry Gould, an Englishman and a Costaguanero of the second generation, chief of the Sulaco province; he had been his personal mozo years and years ago in peace and war; had been allowed to attend his master in prison; had, on the fatal morning, followed the firing squad227; and, peeping from behind one of the cypresses228 growing along the wall of the Franciscan Convent, had seen, with his eyes starting out of his head, Don Enrique throw up his hands and fall with his face in the dust. Charles Gould noted229 particularly the big patriarchal head of that witness in the rear of the other servants. But he was surprised to see a shrivelled old hag or two, of whose existence within the walls of his house he had not been aware. They must have been the mothers, or even the grandmothers of some of his people. There were a few children, too, more or less naked, crying and clinging to the legs of their elders. He had never before noticed any sign of a child in his patio. Even Leonarda, the camerista, came in a fright, pushing through, with her spoiled, pouting230 face of a favourite maid, leading the Viola girls by the hand. The crockery rattled231 on table and sideboard, and the whole house seemed to sway in the deafening232 wave of sound.
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1
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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2
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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3
arcades
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| n.商场( arcade的名词复数 )；拱形走道（两旁有商店或娱乐设施）；连拱廊；拱形建筑物 | |
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4
plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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5
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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7
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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8
patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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9
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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10
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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11
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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12
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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13
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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14
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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15
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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16
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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18
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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19
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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20
incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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21
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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22
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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23
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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24
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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25
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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26
materialist
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| n. 唯物主义者 | |
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27
tampering
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| v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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28
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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29
insidiously
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| 潜在地，隐伏地，阴险地 | |
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30
corrupted
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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31
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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32
bribing
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| 贿赂 | |
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33
intriguing
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| adj.有趣的；迷人的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的现在分词)；激起…的好奇心 | |
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34
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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35
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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36
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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37
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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38
wielder
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| 行使者 | |
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39
cupidity
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| n.贪心，贪财 | |
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40
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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41
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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42
concoction
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| n.调配(物)；谎言 | |
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43
tainting
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| v.使变质( taint的现在分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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44
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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45
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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46
enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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47
ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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48
appraising
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| v.估价( appraise的现在分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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49
tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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50
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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51
conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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52
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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53
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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54
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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55
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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56
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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57
ineptitude
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| n.不适当；愚笨，愚昧的言行 | |
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58
crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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59
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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60
harangued
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| v.高谈阔论( harangue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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62
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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63
vestiges
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| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
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64
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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65
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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66
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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67
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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68
pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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69
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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70
loquacity
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| n.多话，饶舌 | |
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71
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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72
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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73
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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74
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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75
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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76
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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77
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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78
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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79
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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80
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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81
arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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82
haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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83
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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85
irrational
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| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
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86
recondite
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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87
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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88
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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89
probity
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| n.刚直；廉洁，正直 | |
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90
ransomed
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| 付赎金救人，赎金( ransom的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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92
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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93
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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94
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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95
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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96
nomination
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| n.提名，任命，提名权 | |
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97
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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98
tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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99
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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100
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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101
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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102
casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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103
iniquitous
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| adj.不公正的；邪恶的；高得出奇的 | |
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104
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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105
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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106
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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107
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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108
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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109
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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110
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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111
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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112
tonsure
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| n.削发；v.剃 | |
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113
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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114
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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115
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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116
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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117
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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118
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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119
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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120
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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121
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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122
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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123
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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124
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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125
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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126
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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127
surfeited
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| v.吃得过多( surfeit的过去式和过去分词 )；由于过量而厌腻 | |
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128
gluttonous
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| adj.贪吃的，贪婪的 | |
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129
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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130
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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131
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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132
aptitude
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| n.(学习方面的)才能，资质，天资 | |
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133
complexity
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| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
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134
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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135
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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136
ferociously
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| 野蛮地，残忍地 | |
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137
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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138
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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139
rankling
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的现在分词 ) | |
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140
aspersion
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| n.诽谤，中伤 | |
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141
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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142
mallet
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| n.槌棒 | |
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143
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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144
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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145
infliction
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| n.（强加于人身的）痛苦，刑罚 | |
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146
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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147
subjugation
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| n.镇压，平息，征服 | |
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148
confessions
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| n.承认( confession的名词复数 )；自首；声明；（向神父的）忏悔 | |
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149
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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150
lucidity
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| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
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151
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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152
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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153
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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154
contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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155
extorted
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| v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 )；曲解 | |
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156
conspirator
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| n.阴谋者，谋叛者 | |
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157
liberated
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| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
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158
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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159
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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160
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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161
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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162
poncho
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| n.斗篷，雨衣 | |
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163
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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164
rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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165
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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166
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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167
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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168
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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169
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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170
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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171
physiological
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| adj.生理学的，生理学上的 | |
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172
rejections
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| 拒绝( rejection的名词复数 )； 摒弃； 剔除物； 排斥 | |
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173
persistency
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| n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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174
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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175
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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176
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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177
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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178
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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179
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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180
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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181
precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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182
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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183
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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184
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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185
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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186
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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187
desolately
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| 荒凉地，寂寞地 | |
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188
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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189
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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190
subconscious
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| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
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191
ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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192
parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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193
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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194
ironic
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| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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195
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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196
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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197
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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198
aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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199
risky
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| adj.有风险的，冒险的 | |
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200
aberration
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| n.离开正路，脱离常规，色差 | |
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201
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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202
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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203
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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204
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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205
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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206
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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207
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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208
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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209
democrats
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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210
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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211
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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212
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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213
vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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214
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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215
pealed
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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216
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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217
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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218
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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219
blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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220
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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221
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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222
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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223
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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224
munificent
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| adj.慷慨的，大方的 | |
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225
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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226
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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227
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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228
cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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229
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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230
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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231
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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232
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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