Imagining at first that he might be attacked at once, he had made his battalion8 stand to arms on the shore. He walked to and fro all the length of the room, stopping sometimes to gnaw9 the finger-tips of his right hand with a lurid10 sideways glare fixed11 on the floor; then, with a sullen12, repelling14 glance all round, he would resume his tramping in savage15 aloofness16. His hat, horsewhip, sword, and revolver were lying on the table. His officers, crowding the window giving the view of the town gate, disputed amongst themselves the use of his field-glass bought last year on long credit from Anzani. It passed from hand to hand, and the possessor for the time being was besieged17 by anxious inquiries18.
“There is nothing; there is nothing to see!” he would repeat impatiently.
There was nothing. And when the picket19 in the bushes near the Casa Viola had been ordered to fall back upon the main body, no stir of life appeared on the stretch of dusty and arid20 land between the town and the waters of the port. But late in the afternoon a horseman issuing from the gate was made out riding up fearlessly. It was an emissary from Senor Fuentes. Being all alone he was allowed to come on. Dismounting at the great door he greeted the silent bystanders with cheery impudence21, and begged to be taken up at once to the “muy valliente” colonel.
Senor Fuentes, on entering upon his functions of Gefe Politico, had turned his diplomatic abilities to getting hold of the harbour as well as of the mine. The man he pitched upon to negotiate with Sotillo was a Notary22 Public, whom the revolution had found languishing23 in the common jail on a charge of forging documents. Liberated24 by the mob along with the other “victims of Blanco tyranny,” he had hastened to offer his services to the new Government.
He set out determined25 to display much zeal26 and eloquence27 in trying to induce Sotillo to come into town alone for a conference with Pedrito Montero. Nothing was further from the colonel’s intentions. The mere28 fleeting29 idea of trusting himself into the famous Pedrito’s hands had made him feel unwell several times. It was out of the question — it was madness. And to put himself in open hostility30 was madness, too. It would render impossible a systematic31 search for that treasure, for that wealth of silver which he seemed to feel somewhere about, to scent32 somewhere near.
But where? Where? Heavens! Where? Oh! why had he allowed that doctor to go! Imbecile that he was. But no! It was the only right course, he reflected distractedly, while the messenger waited downstairs chatting agreeably to the officers. It was in that scoundrelly doctor’s true interest to return with positive information. But what if anything stopped him? A general prohibition33 to leave the town, for instance! There would be patrols!
The colonel, seizing his head in his hands, turned in his tracks as if struck with vertigo34. A flash of craven inspiration suggested to him an expedient35 not unknown to European statesmen when they wish to delay a difficult negotiation36. Booted and spurred, he scrambled37 into the hammock with undignified haste. His handsome face had turned yellow with the strain of weighty cares. The ridge38 of his shapely nose had grown sharp; the audacious nostrils39 appeared mean and pinched. The velvety40, caressing41 glance of his fine eyes seemed dead, and even decomposed42; for these almond-shaped, languishing orbs43 had become inappropriately bloodshot with much sinister44 sleeplessness45. He addressed the surprised envoy46 of Senor Fuentes in a deadened, exhausted47 voice. It came pathetically feeble from under a pile of ponchos48, which buried his elegant person right up to the black moustaches, uncurled, pendant, in sign of bodily prostration49 and mental incapacity. Fever, fever — a heavy fever had overtaken the “muy valliente” colonel. A wavering wildness of expression, caused by the passing spasms50 of a slight colic which had declared itself suddenly, and the rattling51 teeth of repressed panic, had a genuineness which impressed the envoy. It was a cold fit. The colonel explained that he was unable to think, to listen, to speak. With an appearance of superhuman effort the colonel gasped53 out that he was not in a state to return a suitable reply or to execute any of his Excellency’s orders. But to-morrow! To-morrow! Ah! to-morrow! Let his Excellency Don Pedro be without uneasiness. The brave Esmeralda Regiment54 held the harbour, held — And closing his eyes, he rolled his aching head like a half-delirious invalid55 under the inquisitive56 stare of the envoy, who was obliged to bend down over the hammock in order to catch the painful and broken accents. Meantime, Colonel Sotillo trusted that his Excellency’s humanity would permit the doctor, the English doctor, to come out of town with his case of foreign remedies to attend upon him. He begged anxiously his worship the caballero now present for the grace of looking in as he passed the Casa Gould, and informing the English doctor, who was probably there, that his services were immediately required by Colonel Sotillo, lying ill of fever in the Custom House. Immediately. Most urgently required. Awaited with extreme impatience57. A thousand thanks. He closed his eyes wearily and would not open them again, lying perfectly58 still, deaf, dumb, insensible, overcome, vanquished59, crushed, annihilated60 by the fell disease.
But as soon as the other had shut after him the door of the landing, the colonel leaped out with a fling of both feet in an avalanche61 of woollen coverings. His spurs having become entangled62 in a perfect welter of ponchos he nearly pitched on his head, and did not recover his balance till the middle of the room. Concealed63 behind the half-closed jalousies he listened to what went on below.
The envoy had already mounted, and turning to the morose64 officers occupying the great doorway65, took off his hat formally.
“Caballeros,” he said, in a very loud tone, “allow me to recommend you to take great care of your colonel. It has done me much honour and gratification to have seen you all, a fine body of men exercising the soldierly virtue66 of patience in this exposed situation, where there is much sun, and no water to speak of, while a town full of wine and feminine charms is ready to embrace you for the brave men you are. Caballeros, I have the honour to salute67 you. There will be much dancing to-night in Sulaco. Good-bye!”
But he reined68 in his horse and inclined his head sideways on seeing the old major step out, very tall and meagre, in a straight narrow coat coming down to his ankles as it were the casing of the regimental colours rolled round their staff.
The intelligent old warrior69, after enunciating in a dogmatic tone the general proposition that the “world was full of traitors,” went on pronouncing deliberately70 a panegyric71 upon Sotillo. He ascribed to him with leisurely72 emphasis every virtue under heaven, summing it all up in an absurd colloquialism73 current amongst the lower class of Occidentals (especially about Esmeralda). “And,” he concluded, with a sudden rise in the voice, “a man of many teeth —‘hombre de muchos dientes.’ Si, senor. As to us,” he pursued, portentous74 and impressive, “your worship is beholding75 the finest body of officers in the Republic, men unequalled for valour and sagacity, ‘y hombres de muchos dientes.’”
“What? All of them?” inquired the disreputable envoy of Senor Fuentes, with a faint, derisive76 smile.
“Todos. Si, senor,” the major affirmed, gravely, with conviction. “Men of many teeth.”
The other wheeled his horse to face the portal resembling the high gate of a dismal77 barn. He raised himself in his stirrups, extended one arm. He was a facetious78 scoundrel, entertaining for these stupid Occidentals a feeling of great scorn natural in a native from the central provinces. The folly79 of Esmeraldians especially aroused his amused contempt. He began an oration80 upon Pedro Montero, keeping a solemn countenance81. He flourished his hand as if introducing him to their notice. And when he saw every face set, all the eyes fixed upon his lips, he began to shout a sort of catalogue of perfections: “Generous, valorous, affable, profound”—(he snatched off his hat enthusiastically)—“a statesman, an invincible82 chief of partisans83 —” He dropped his voice startlingly to a deep, hollow note —“and a dentist.”
He was off instantly at a smart walk; the rigid84 straddle of his legs, the turned-out feet, the stiff back, the rakish slant85 of the sombrero above the square, motionless set of the shoulders expressing an infinite, awe-inspiring impudence.
Upstairs, behind the jalousies, Sotillo did not move for a long time. The audacity86 of the fellow appalled87 him. What were his officers saying below? They were saying nothing. Complete silence. He quaked. It was not thus that he had imagined himself at that stage of the expedition. He had seen himself triumphant88, unquestioned, appeased89, the idol90 of the soldiers, weighing in secret complacency the agreeable alternatives of power and wealth open to his choice. Alas91! How different! Distracted, restless, supine, burning with fury, or frozen with terror, he felt a dread as fathomless92 as the sea creep upon him from every side. That rogue93 of a doctor had to come out with his information. That was clear. It would be of no use to him — alone. He could do nothing with it. Malediction94! The doctor would never come out. He was probably under arrest already, shut up together with Don Carlos. He laughed aloud insanely. Ha! ha! ha! ha! It was Pedrito Montero who would get the information. Ha! ha! ha! ha! — and the silver. Ha!
All at once, in the midst of the laugh, he became motionless and silent as if turned into stone. He too, had a prisoner. A prisoner who must, must know the real truth. He would have to be made to speak. And Sotillo, who all that time had not quite forgotten Hirsch, felt an inexplicable95 reluctance96 at the notion of proceeding97 to extremities98.
He felt a reluctance — part of that unfathomable dread that crept on all sides upon him. He remembered reluctantly, too, the dilated99 eyes of the hide merchant, his contortions100, his loud sobs101 and protestations. It was not compassion102 or even mere nervous sensibility. The fact was that though Sotillo did never for a moment believe his story — he could not believe it; nobody could believe such nonsense — yet those accents of despairing truth impressed him disagreeably. They made him feel sick. And he suspected also that the man might have gone mad with fear. A lunatic is a hopeless subject. Bah! A pretence103. Nothing but a pretence. He would know how to deal with that.
He was working himself up to the right pitch of ferocity. His fine eyes squinted104 slightly; he clapped his hands; a bare-footed orderly appeared noiselessly, a corporal, with his bayonet hanging on his thigh105 and a stick in his hand.
The colonel gave his orders, and presently the miserable106 Hirsch, pushed in by several soldiers, found him frowning awfully107 in a broad armchair, hat on head, knees wide apart, arms akimbo, masterful, imposing108, irresistible109, haughty110, sublime111, terrible.
Hirsch, with his arms tied behind his back, had been bundled violently into one of the smaller rooms. For many hours he remained apparently112 forgotten, stretched lifelessly on the floor. From that solitude113, full of despair and terror, he was torn out brutally114, with kicks and blows, passive, sunk in hebetude. He listened to threats and admonitions, and afterwards made his usual answers to questions, with his chin sunk on his breast, his hands tied behind his back, swaying a little in front of Sotillo, and never looking up. When he was forced to hold up his head, by means of a bayonet-point prodding115 him under the chin, his eyes had a vacant, trance-like stare, and drops of perspiration116 as big as peas were seen hailing down the dirt, bruises117, and scratches of his white face. Then they stopped suddenly.
Sotillo looked at him in silence. “Will you depart from your obstinacy118, you rogue?” he asked. Already a rope, whose one end was fastened to Senor Hirsch’s wrists, had been thrown over a beam, and three soldiers held the other end, waiting. He made no answer. His heavy lower lip hung stupidly. Sotillo made a sign. Hirsch was jerked up off his feet, and a yell of despair and agony burst out in the room, filled the passage of the great buildings, rent the air outside, caused every soldier of the camp along the shore to look up at the windows, started some of the officers in the hall babbling119 excitedly, with shining eyes; others, setting their lips, looked gloomily at the floor.
Sotillo, followed by the soldiers, had left the room. The sentry120 on the landing presented arms. Hirsch went on screaming all alone behind the half-closed jalousies while the sunshine, reflected from the water of the harbour, made an ever-running ripple121 of light high up on the wall. He screamed with uplifted eyebrows122 and a wide-open mouth — incredibly wide, black, enormous, full of teeth — comical.
In the still burning air of the windless afternoon he made the waves of his agony travel as far as the O. S. N. Company’s offices. Captain Mitchell on the balcony, trying to make out what went on generally, had heard him faintly but distinctly, and the feeble and appalling123 sound lingered in his ears after he had retreated indoors with blanched124 cheeks. He had been driven off the balcony several times during that afternoon.
Sotillo, irritable125, moody126, walked restlessly about, held consultations127 with his officers, gave contradictory128 orders in this shrill129 clamour pervading130 the whole empty edifice131. Sometimes there would be long and awful silences. Several times he had entered the torture-chamber where his sword, horsewhip, revolver, and field-glass were lying on the table, to ask with forced calmness, “Will you speak the truth now? No? I can wait.” But he could not afford to wait much longer. That was just it. Every time he went in and came out with a slam of the door, the sentry on the landing presented arms, and got in return a black, venomous, unsteady glance, which, in reality, saw nothing at all, being merely the reflection of the soul within — a soul of gloomy hatred133, irresolution134, avarice135, and fury.
The sun had set when he went in once more. A soldier carried in two lighted candles and slunk out, shutting the door without noise.
“Speak, thou Jewish child of the devil! The silver! The silver, I say! Where is it? Where have you foreign rogues136 hidden it? Confess or —”
A slight quiver passed up the taut137 rope from the racked limbs, but the body of Senor Hirsch, enterprising business man from Esmeralda, hung under the heavy beam perpendicular138 and silent, facing the colonel awfully. The inflow of the night air, cooled by the snows of the Sierra, spread gradually a delicious freshness through the close heat of the room.
“Speak — thief — scoundrel — picaro — or —”
Sotillo had seized the riding-whip, and stood with his arm lifted up. For a word, for one little word, he felt he would have knelt, cringed, grovelled139 on the floor before the drowsy140, conscious stare of those fixed eyeballs starting out of the grimy, dishevelled head that drooped141 very still with its mouth closed askew142. The colonel ground his teeth with rage and struck. The rope vibrated leisurely to the blow, like the long string of a pendulum143 starting from a rest. But no swinging motion was imparted to the body of Senor Hirsch, the well-known hide merchant on the coast. With a convulsive effort of the twisted arms it leaped up a few inches, curling upon itself like a fish on the end of a line. Senor Hirsch’s head was flung back on his straining throat; his chin trembled. For a moment the rattle144 of his chattering145 teeth pervaded146 the vast, shadowy room, where the candles made a patch of light round the two flames burning side by side. And as Sotillo, staying his raised hand, waited for him to speak, with the sudden flash of a grin and a straining forward of the wrenched148 shoulders, he spat149 violently into his face.
The uplifted whip fell, and the colonel sprang back with a low cry of dismay, as if aspersed150 by a jet of deadly venom132. Quick as thought he snatched up his revolver, and fired twice. The report and the concussion151 of the shots seemed to throw him at once from ungovernable rage into idiotic152 stupor153. He stood with drooping154 jaw155 and stony156 eyes. What had he done, Sangre de Dios! What had he done? He was basely appalled at his impulsive157 act, sealing for ever these lips from which so much was to be extorted158. What could he say? How could he explain? Ideas of headlong flight somewhere, anywhere, passed through his mind; even the craven and absurd notion of hiding under the table occurred to his cowardice159. It was too late; his officers had rushed in tumultuously, in a great clatter160 of scabbards, clamouring, with astonishment161 and wonder. But since they did not immediately proceed to plunge162 their swords into his breast, the brazen163 side of his character asserted itself. Passing the sleeve of his uniform over his face he pulled himself together, His truculent164 glance turned slowly here and there, checked the noise where it fell; and the stiff body of the late Senor Hirsch, merchant, after swaying imperceptibly, made a half turn, and came to a rest in the midst of awed165 murmurs166 and uneasy shuffling167.
A voice remarked loudly, “Behold a man who will never speak again.” And another, from the back row of faces, timid and pressing, cried out —
“Why did you kill him, mi colonel?”
“Because he has confessed everything,” answered Sotillo, with the hardihood of desperation. He felt himself cornered. He brazened it out on the strength of his reputation with very fair success. His hearers thought him very capable of such an act. They were disposed to believe his flattering tale. There is no credulity so eager and blind as the credulity of covetousness168, which, in its universal extent, measures the moral misery169 and the intellectual destitution170 of mankind. Ah! he had confessed everything, this fractious Jew, this bribon. Good! Then he was no longer wanted. A sudden dense171 guffaw172 was heard from the senior captain — a big-headed man, with little round eyes and monstrously173 fat cheeks which never moved. The old major, tall and fantastically ragged174 like a scarecrow, walked round the body of the late Senor Hirsch, muttering to himself with ineffable175 complacency that like this there was no need to guard against any future treacheries of that scoundrel. The others stared, shifting from foot to foot, and whispering short remarks to each other.
Sotillo buckled176 on his sword and gave curt177, peremptory178 orders to hasten the retirement179 decided180 upon in the afternoon. Sinister, impressive, his sombrero pulled right down upon his eyebrows, he marched first through the door in such disorder181 of mind that he forgot utterly182 to provide for Dr. Monygham’s possible return. As the officers trooped out after him, one or two looked back hastily at the late Senor Hirsch, merchant from Esmeralda, left swinging rigidly183 at rest, alone with the two burning candles. In the emptiness of the room the burly shadow of head and shoulders on the wall had an air of life.
Below, the troops fell in silently and moved off by companies without drum or trumpet184. The old scarecrow major commanded the rearguard; but the party he left behind with orders to fire the Custom House (and “burn the carcass of the treacherous185 Jew where it hung”) failed somehow in their haste to set the staircase properly alight. The body of the late Senor Hirsch dwelt alone for a time in the dismal solitude of the unfinished building, resounding186 weirdly187 with sudden slams and clicks of doors and latches188, with rustling189 scurries190 of torn papers, and the tremulous sighs that at each gust191 of wind passed under the high roof. The light of the two candles burning before the perpendicular and breathless immobility of the late Senor Hirsch threw a gleam afar over land and water, like a signal in the night. He remained to startle Nostromo by his presence, and to puzzle Dr. Monygham by the mystery of his atrocious end.
“But why shot?” the doctor again asked himself, audibly. This time he was answered by a dry laugh from Nostromo.
“You seem much concerned at a very natural thing, senor doctor. I wonder why? It is very likely that before long we shall all get shot one after another, if not by Sotillo, then by Pedrito, or Fuentes, or Gamacho. And we may even get the estrapade, too, or worse — quien sabe? — with your pretty tale of the silver you put into Sotillo’s head.”
“It was in his head already,” the doctor protested. “I only —”
“Yes. And you only nailed it there so that the devil himself —”
“That is precisely192 what I meant to do,” caught up the doctor.
“That is what you meant to do. Bueno. It is as I say. You are a dangerous man.”
Their voices, which without rising had been growing quarrelsome, ceased suddenly. The late Senor Hirsch, erect193 and shadowy against the stars, seemed to be waiting attentive194, in impartial195 silence.
But Dr. Monygham had no mind to quarrel with Nostromo. At this supremely196 critical point of Sulaco’s fortunes it was borne upon him at last that this man was really indispensable, more indispensable than ever the infatuation of Captain Mitchell, his proud discoverer, could conceive; far beyond what Decoud’s best dry raillery about “my illustrious friend, the unique Capataz de Cargadores,” had ever intended. The fellow was unique. He was not “one in a thousand.” He was absolutely the only one. The doctor surrendered. There was something in the genius of that Genoese seaman197 which dominated the destinies of great enterprises and of many people, the fortunes of Charles Gould, the fate of an admirable woman. At this last thought the doctor had to clear his throat before he could speak.
In a completely changed tone he pointed198 out to the Capataz that, to begin with, he personally ran no great risk. As far as everybody knew he was dead. It was an enormous advantage. He had only to keep out of sight in the Casa Viola, where the old Garibaldino was known to be alone — with his dead wife. The servants had all run away. No one would think of searching for him there, or anywhere else on earth, for that matter.
“That would be very true,” Nostromo spoke199 up, bitterly, “if I had not met you.”
For a time the doctor kept silent. “Do you mean to say that you think I may give you away?” he asked in an unsteady voice. “Why? Why should I do that?”
“What do I know? Why not? To gain a day perhaps. It would take Sotillo a day to give me the estrapade, and try some other things perhaps, before he puts a bullet through my heart — as he did to that poor wretch200 here. Why not?”
The doctor swallowed with difficulty. His throat had gone dry in a moment. It was not from indignation. The doctor, pathetically enough, believed that he had forfeited201 the right to be indignant with any one — for anything. It was simple dread. Had the fellow heard his story by some chance? If so, there was an end of his usefulness in that direction. The indispensable man escaped his influence, because of that indelible blot202 which made him fit for dirty work. A feeling as of sickness came upon the doctor. He would have given anything to know, but he dared not clear up the point. The fanaticism203 of his devotion, fed on the sense of his abasement204, hardened his heart in sadness and scorn.
“Why not, indeed?” he reechoed, sardonically205. “Then the safe thing for you is to kill me on the spot. I would defend myself. But you may just as well know I am going about unarmed.”
“Por Dios!” said the Capataz, passionately206. “You fine people are all alike. All dangerous. All betrayers of the poor who are your dogs.”
“You do not understand,” began the doctor, slowly.
“I understand you all!” cried the other with a violent movement, as shadowy to the doctor’s eyes as the persistent208 immobility of the late Senor Hirsch. “A poor man amongst you has got to look after himself. I say that you do not care for those that serve you. Look at me! After all these years, suddenly, here I find myself like one of these curs that bark outside the walls — without a kennel209 or a dry bone for my teeth. (Caramba!” But he relented with a contemptuous fairness. “Of course,” he went on, quietly, “I do not suppose that you would hasten to give me up to Sotillo, for example. It is not that. It is that I am nothing! Suddenly —” He swung his arm downwards210. “Nothing to any one,” he repeated.
The doctor breathed freely. “Listen, Capataz,” he said, stretching out his arm almost affectionately towards Nostromo’s shoulder. “I am going to tell you a very simple thing. You are safe because you are needed. I would not give you away for any conceivable reason, because I want you.”
In the dark Nostromo bit his lip. He had heard enough of that. He knew what that meant. No more of that for him. But he had to look after himself now, he thought. And he thought, too, that it would not be prudent211 to part in anger from his companion. The doctor, admitted to be a great healer, had, amongst the populace of Sulaco, the reputation of being an evil sort of man. It was based solidly on his personal appearance, which was strange, and on his rough ironic212 manner — proofs visible, sensible, and incontrovertible of the doctor’s malevolent213 disposition214. And Nostromo was of the people. So he only grunted216 incredulously.
“You, to speak plainly, are the only man,” the doctor pursued. “It is in your power to save this town and . . . everybody from the destructive rapacity217 of men who —”
“No, senor,” said Nostromo, sullenly218. “It is not in my power to get the treasure back for you to give up to Sotillo, or Pedrito, or Gamacho. What do I know?”
“Nobody expects the impossible,” was the answer.
“You have said it yourself — nobody,” muttered Nostromo, in a gloomy, threatening tone.
But Dr. Monygham, full of hope, disregarded the enigmatic words and the threatening tone. To their eyes, accustomed to obscurity, the late Senor Hirsch, growing more distinct, seemed to have come nearer. And the doctor lowered his voice in exposing his scheme as though afraid of being overheard.
He was taking the indispensable man into his fullest confidence. Its implied flattery and suggestion of great risks came with a familiar sound to the Capataz. His mind, floating in irresolution and discontent, recognized it with bitterness. He understood well that the doctor was anxious to save the San Tome mine from annihilation. He would be nothing without it. It was his interest. Just as it had been the interest of Senor Decoud, of the Blancos, and of the Europeans to get his Cargadores on their side. His thought became arrested upon Decoud. What would happen to him?
Nostromo’s prolonged silence made the doctor uneasy. He pointed out, quite unnecessarily, that though for the present he was safe, he could not live concealed for ever. The choice was between accepting the mission to Barrios, with all its dangers and difficulties, and leaving Sulaco by stealth, ingloriously, in poverty.
“None of your friends could reward you and protect you just now, Capataz. Not even Don Carlos himself.”
“I would have none of your protection and none of your rewards. I only wish I could trust your courage and your sense. When I return in triumph, as you say, with Barrios, I may find you all destroyed. You have the knife at your throat now.”
It was the doctor’s turn to remain silent in the contemplation of horrible contingencies219.
“Well, we would trust your courage and your sense. And you, too, have a knife at your throat.”
“Ah! And whom am I to thank for that? What are your politics and your mines to me — your silver and your constitutions — your Don Carlos this, and Don Jose that —”
“I don’t know,” burst out the exasperated220 doctor. “There are innocent people in danger whose little finger is worth more than you or I and all the Ribierists together. I don’t know. You should have asked yourself before you allowed Decoud to lead you into all this. It was your place to think like a man; but if you did not think then, try to act like a man now. Did you imagine Decoud cared very much for what would happen to you?”
“No more than you care for what will happen to me,” muttered the other.
“No; I care for what will happen to you as little as I care for what will happen to myself.”
“And all this because you are such a devoted221 Ribierist?” Nostromo said in an incredulous tone.
“All this because I am such a devoted Ribierist,” repeated Dr. Monygham, grimly.
Again Nostromo, gazing abstractedly at the body of the late Senor Hirsch, remained silent, thinking that the doctor was a dangerous person in more than one sense. It was impossible to trust him.
“Do you speak in the name of Don Carlos?” he asked at last.
“Yes. I do,” the doctor said, loudly, without hesitation222. “He must come forward now. He must,” he added in a mutter, which Nostromo did not catch.
“What did you say, senor?”
The doctor started. “I say that you must be true to yourself, Capataz. It would be worse than folly to fail now.”
“True to myself,” repeated Nostromo. “How do you know that I would not be true to myself if I told you to go to the devil with your propositions?”
“I do not know. Maybe you would,” the doctor said, with a roughness of tone intended to hide the sinking of his heart and the faltering223 of his voice. “All I know is, that you had better get away from here. Some of Sotillo’s men may turn up here looking for me.”
He slipped off the table, listening intently. The Capataz, too, stood up.
“Suppose I went to Cayta, what would you do meantime?” he asked.
“I would go to Sotillo directly you had left — in the way I am thinking of.”
“A very good way — if only that engineer-in-chief consents. Remind him, senor, that I looked after the old rich Englishman who pays for the railway, and that I saved the lives of some of his people that time when a gang of thieves came from the south to wreck224 one of his pay-trains. It was I who discovered it all at the risk of my life, by pretending to enter into their plans. Just as you are doing with Sotillo.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. But I can offer him better arguments,” the doctor said, hastily. “ Leave it to me.”
“Ah, yes! True. I am nothing.”
“Not at all. You are everything.”
They moved a few paces towards the door. Behind them the late Senor Hirsch preserved the immobility of a disregarded man.
“That will be all right. I know what to say to the engineer,” pursued the doctor, in a low tone. “My difficulty will be with Sotillo.”
And Dr. Monygham stopped short in the doorway as if intimidated225 by the difficulty. He had made the sacrifice of his life. He considered this a fitting opportunity. But he did not want to throw his life away too soon. In his quality of betrayer of Don Carlos’ confidence, he would have ultimately to indicate the hiding-place of the treasure. That would be the end of his deception226, and the end of himself as well, at the hands of the infuriated colonel. He wanted to delay him to the very last moment; and he had been racking his brains to invent some place of concealment227 at once plausible228 and difficult of access.
He imparted his trouble to Nostromo, and concluded —
“Do you know what, Capataz? I think that when the time comes and some information must be given, I shall indicate the Great Isabel. That is the best place I can think of. What is the matter?”
A low exclamation229 had escaped Nostromo. The doctor waited, surprised, and after a moment of profound silence, heard a thick voice stammer230 out, “Utter folly,” and stop with a gasp52.
“Why folly?”
“Ah! You do not see it,” began Nostromo, scathingly, gathering231 scorn as he went on. “Three men in half an hour would see that no ground had been disturbed anywhere on that island. Do you think that such a treasure can be buried without leaving traces of the work — eh! senor doctor? Why! you would not gain half a day more before having your throat cut by Sotillo. The Isabel! What stupidity! What miserable invention! Ah! you are all alike, you fine men of intelligence. All you are fit for is to betray men of the people into undertaking232 deadly risks for objects that you are not even sure about. If it comes off you get the benefit. If not, then it does not matter. He is only a dog. Ah! Madre de Dios, I would —” He shook his fists above his head.
The doctor was overwhelmed at first by this fierce, hissing233 vehemence234.
“Well! It seems to me on your own showing that the men of the people are no mean fools, too,” he said, sullenly. “No, but come. You are so clever. Have you a better place?”
Nostromo had calmed down as quickly as he had flared236 up.
“I am clever enough for that,” he said, quietly, almost with indifference237. “You want to tell him of a hiding-place big enough to take days in ransacking238 — a place where a treasure of silver ingots can be buried without leaving a sign on the surface.”
“And close at hand,” the doctor put in.
“Just so, senor. Tell him it is sunk.”
“This has the merit of being the truth,” the doctor said, contemptuously. “He will not believe it.”
“You tell him that it is sunk where he may hope to lay his hands on it, and he will believe you quick enough. Tell him it has been sunk in the harbour in order to be recovered afterwards by divers239. Tell him you found out that I had orders from Don Carlos Gould to lower the cases quietly overboard somewhere in a line between the end of the jetty and the entrance. The depth is not too great there. He has no divers, but he has a ship, boats, ropes, chains, sailors — of a sort. Let him fish for the silver. Let him set his fools to drag backwards240 and forwards and crossways while he sits and watches till his eyes drop out of his head.”
“Really, this is an admirable idea,” muttered the doctor.
“Si. You tell him that, and see whether he will not believe you! He will spend days in rage and torment241 — and still he will believe. He will have no thought for anything else. He will not give up till he is driven off — why, he may even forget to kill you. He will neither eat nor sleep. He —”
“The very thing! The very thing!” the doctor repeated in an excited whisper. “Capataz, I begin to believe that you are a great genius in your way.”
Nostromo had paused; then began again in a changed tone, sombre, speaking to himself as though he had forgotten the doctor’s existence.
“There is something in a treasure that fastens upon a man’s mind. He will pray and blaspheme and still persevere242, and will curse the day he ever heard of it, and will let his last hour come upon him unawares, still believing that he missed it only by a foot. He will see it every time he closes his eyes. He will never forget it till he is dead — and even then —— Doctor, did you ever hear of the miserable gringos on Azuera, that cannot die? Ha! ha! Sailors like myself. There is no getting away from a treasure that once fastens upon your mind.”
“You are a devil of a man, Capataz. It is the most plausible thing.”
Nostromo pressed his arm.
“It will be worse for him than thirst at sea or hunger in a town full of people. Do you know what that is? He shall suffer greater torments243 than he inflicted244 upon that terrified wretch who had no invention. None! none! Not like me. I could have told Sotillo a deadly tale for very little pain.”
He laughed wildly and turned in the doorway towards the body of the late Senor Hirsch, an opaque245 long blotch246 in the semi-transparent obscurity of the room between the two tall parallelograms of the windows full of stars.
“You man of fear!” he cried. “You shall be avenged247 by me — Nostromo. Out of my way, doctor! Stand aside — or, by the suffering soul of a woman dead without confession248, I will strangle you with my two hands.”
He bounded downwards into the black, smoky hall. With a grunt215 of astonishment, Dr. Monygham threw himself recklessly into the pursuit. At the bottom of the charred249 stairs he had a fall, pitching forward on his face with a force that would have stunned250 a spirit less intent upon a task of love and devotion. He was up in a moment, jarred, shaken, with a queer impression of the terrestrial globe having been flung at his head in the dark. But it wanted more than that to stop Dr. Monygham’s body, possessed251 by the exaltation of self-sacrifice; a reasonable exaltation, determined not to lose whatever advantage chance put into its way. He ran with headlong, tottering252 swiftness, his arms going like a windmill in his effort to keep his balance on his crippled feet. He lost his hat; the tails of his open gaberdine flew behind him. He had no mind to lose sight of the indispensable man. But it was a long time, and a long way from the Custom House, before he managed to seize his arm from behind, roughly, out of breath.
“Stop! Are you mad?”
Already Nostromo was walking slowly, his head dropping, as if checked in his pace by the weariness of irresolution.
“What is that to you? Ah! I forgot you want me for something. Always. Siempre Nostromo.”
“What do you mean by talking of strangling me?” panted the doctor.
“What do I mean? I mean that the king of the devils himself has sent you out of this town of cowards and talkers to meet me to-night of all the nights of my life.”
Under the starry253 sky the Albergo d’ltalia Una emerged, black and low, breaking the dark level of the plain. Nostromo stopped altogether.
“The priests say he is a tempter, do they not?” he added, through his clenched254 teeth.
“My good man, you drivel. The devil has nothing to do with this. Neither has the town, which you may call by what name you please. But Don Carlos Gould is neither a coward nor an empty talker. You will admit that?” He waited. “Well?”
“Could I see Don Carlos?”
“Great heavens! No! Why? What for?” exclaimed the doctor in agitation255. “I tell you it is madness. I will not let you go into the town for anything.”
“I must.”
“You must not!” hissed256 the doctor, fiercely, almost beside himself with the fear of the man doing away with his usefulness for an imbecile whim257 of some sort. “I tell you you shall not. I would rather ——”
He stopped at loss for words, feeling fagged out, powerless, holding on to Nostromo’s sleeve, absolutely for support after his run.
“I am betrayed!” muttered the Capataz to himself; and the doctor, who overheard the last word, made an effort to speak calmly.
“That is exactly what would happen to you. You would be betrayed.”
He thought with a sickening dread that the man was so well known that he could not escape recognition. The house of the Senor Administrador was beset258 by spies, no doubt. And even the very servants of the casa were not to be trusted. “Reflect, Capataz,” he said, impressively. . . . “What are you laughing at?”
“I am laughing to think that if somebody that did not approve of my presence in town, for instance — you understand, senor doctor — if somebody were to give me up to Pedrito, it would not be beyond my power to make friends even with him. It is true. What do you think of that?”
“You are a man of infinite resource, Capataz,” said Dr. Monygham, dismally259. “I recognize that. But the town is full of talk about you; and those few Cargadores that are not in hiding with the railway people have been shouting ‘Viva Montero’ on the Plaza260 all day.”
“My poor Cargadores!” muttered Nostromo. “Betrayed! Betrayed!”
“I understand that on the wharf261 you were pretty free in laying about you with a stick amongst your poor Cargadores,” the doctor said in a grim tone, which showed that he was recovering from his exertions262. “Make no mistake. Pedrito is furious at Senor Ribiera’s rescue, and at having lost the pleasure of shooting Decoud. Already there are rumours263 in the town of the treasure having been spirited away. To have missed that does not please Pedrito either; but let me tell you that if you had all that silver in your hand for ransom264 it would not save you.”
Turning swiftly, and catching265 the doctor by the shoulders, Nostromo thrust his face close to his.
“Maladetta! You follow me speaking of the treasure. You have sworn my ruin. You were the last man who looked upon me before I went out with it. And Sidoni the engine-driver says you have an evil eye.”
“He ought to know. I saved his broken leg for him last year,” the doctor said, stoically. He felt on his shoulders the weight of these hands famed amongst the populace for snapping thick ropes and bending horseshoes. “And to you I offer the best means of saving yourself — let me go — and of retrieving266 your great reputation. You boasted of making the Capataz de Cargadores famous from one end of America to the other about this wretched silver. But I bring you a better opportunity — let me go, hombre!”
Nostromo released him abruptly267, and the doctor feared that the indispensable man would run off again. But he did not. He walked on slowly. The doctor hobbled by his side till, within a stone’s throw from the Casa Viola, Nostromo stopped again.
Silent in inhospitable darkness, the Casa Viola seemed to have changed its nature; his home appeared to repel13 him with an air of hopeless and inimical mystery. The doctor said —
“You will be safe there. Go in, Capataz.”
“How can I go in?” Nostromo seemed to ask himself in a low, inward tone. “She cannot unsay what she said, and I cannot undo268 what I have done.”
“I tell you it is all right. Viola is all alone in there. I looked in as I came out of the town. You will be perfectly safe in that house till you leave it to make your name famous on the Campo. I am going now to arrange for your departure with the engineer-in-chief, and I shall bring you news here long before daybreak.”
Dr. Monygham, disregarding, or perhaps fearing to penetrate269 the meaning of Nostromo’s silence, clapped him lightly on the shoulder, and starting off with his smart, lame147 walk, vanished utterly at the third or fourth hop1 in the direction of the railway track. Arrested between the two wooden posts for people to fasten their horses to, Nostromo did not move, as if he, too, had been planted solidly in the ground. At the end of half an hour he lifted his head to the deep baying of the dogs at the railway yards, which had burst out suddenly, tumultuous and deadened as if coming from under the plain. That lame doctor with the evil eye had got there pretty fast.
Step by step Nostromo approached the Albergo d’Italia Una, which he had never known so lightless, so silent, before. The door, all black in the pale wall, stood open as he had left it twenty-four hours before, when he had nothing to hide from the world. He remained before it, irresolute270, like a fugitive271, like a man betrayed. Poverty, misery, starvation! Where had he heard these words? The anger of a dying woman had prophesied272 that fate for his folly. It looked as if it would come true very quickly. And the leperos would laugh — she had said. Yes, they would laugh if they knew that the Capataz de Cargadores was at the mercy of the mad doctor whom they could remember, only a few years ago, buying cooked food from a stall on the Plaza for a copper273 coin — like one of themselves.
At that moment the notion of seeking Captain Mitchell passed through his mind. He glanced in the direction of the jetty and saw a small gleam of light in the O.S.N. Company’s building. The thought of lighted windows was not attractive. Two lighted windows had decoyed him into the empty Custom House, only to fall into the clutches of that doctor. No! He would not go near lighted windows again on that night. Captain Mitchell was there. And what could he be told? That doctor would worm it all out of him as if he were a child.
On the threshold he called out “Giorgio!” in an undertone. Nobody answered. He stepped in. “Ola! viejo! Are you there? . . .” In the impenetrable darkness his head swam with the illusion that the obscurity of the kitchen was as vast as the Placid274 Gulf275, and that the floor dipped forward like a sinking lighter276. “Ola! viejo!” he repeated, falteringly277, swaying where he stood. His hand, extended to steady himself, fell upon the table. Moving a step forward, he shifted it, and felt a box of matches under his fingers. He fancied he had heard a quiet sigh. He listened for a moment, holding his breath; then, with trembling hands, tried to strike a light.
The tiny piece of wood flamed up quite blindingly at the end of his fingers, raised above his blinking eyes. A concentrated glare fell upon the leonine white head of old Giorgio against the black fire-place — showed him leaning forward in a chair in staring immobility, surrounded, overhung, by great masses of shadow, his legs crossed, his cheek in his hand, an empty pipe in the corner of his mouth. It seemed hours before he attempted to turn his face; at the very moment the match went out, and he disappeared, overwhelmed by the shadows, as if the walls and roof of the desolate278 house had collapsed279 upon his white head in ghostly silence.
Nostromo heard him stir and utter dispassionately the words —
“It may have been a vision.”
“No,” he said, softly. “It is no vision, old man.”
A strong chest voice asked in the dark —
“Is that you I hear, Giovann’ Battista?”
“Si, viejo. Steady. Not so loud.”
After his release by Sotillo, Giorgio Viola, attended to the very door by the good-natured engineer-in-chief, had reentered his house, which he had been made to leave almost at the very moment of his wife’s death. All was still. The lamp above was burning. He nearly called out to her by name; and the thought that no call from him would ever again evoke280 the answer of her voice, made him drop heavily into the chair with a loud groan281, wrung282 out by the pain as of a keen blade piercing his breast.
The rest of the night he made no sound. The darkness turned to grey, and on the colourless, clear, glassy dawn the jagged sierra stood out flat and opaque, as if cut out of paper.
The enthusiastic and severe soul of Giorgio Viola, sailor, champion of oppressed humanity, enemy of kings, and, by the grace of Mrs. Gould, hotel-keeper of the Sulaco harbour, had descended283 into the open abyss of desolation amongst the shattered vestiges284 of his past. He remembered his wooing between two campaigns, a single short week in the season of gathering olives. Nothing approached the grave passion of that time but the deep, passionate207 sense of his bereavement285. He discovered all the extent of his dependence286 upon the silenced voice of that woman. It was her voice that he missed. Abstracted, busy, lost in inward contemplation, he seldom looked at his wife in those later years. The thought of his girls was a matter of concern, not of consolation287. It was her voice that he would miss. And he remembered the other child — the little boy who died at sea. Ah! a man would have been something to lean upon. And, alas! even Gian’ Battista — he of whom, and of Linda, his wife had spoken to him so anxiously before she dropped off into her last sleep on earth, he on whom she had called aloud to save the children, just before she died — even he was dead!
And the old man, bent288 forward, his head in his hand, sat through the day in immobility and solitude. He never heard the brazen roar of the bells in town. When it ceased the earthenware289 filter in the corner of the kitchen kept on its swift musical drip, drip into the great porous290 jar below.
Towards sunset he got up, and with slow movements disappeared up the narrow staircase. His bulk filled it; and the rubbing of his shoulders made a small noise as of a mouse running behind the plaster of a wall. While he remained up there the house was as dumb as a grave. Then, with the same faint rubbing noise, he descended. He had to catch at the chairs and tables to regain291 his seat. He seized his pipe off the high mantel of the fire-place — but made no attempt to reach the tobacco — thrust it empty into the corner of his mouth, and sat down again in the same staring pose. The sun of Pedrito’s entry into Sulaco, the last sun of Senor Hirsch’s life, the first of Decoud’s solitude on the Great Isabel, passed over the Albergo d’ltalia Una on its way to the west. The tinkling292 drip, drip of the filter had ceased, the lamp upstairs had burnt itself out, and the night beset Giorgio Viola and his dead wife with its obscurity and silence that seemed invincible till the Capataz de Cargadores, returning from the dead, put them to flight with the splutter and flare235 of a match.
“Si, viejo. It is me. Wait.”
Nostromo, after barricading293 the door and closing the shutters294 carefully, groped upon a shelf for a candle, and lit it.
Old Viola had risen. He followed with his eyes in the dark the sounds made by Nostromo. The light disclosed him standing295 without support, as if the mere presence of that man who was loyal, brave, incorruptible, who was all his son would have been, were enough for the support of his decaying strength.
He extended his hand grasping the briar-wood pipe, whose bowl was charred on the edge, and knitted his bushy eyebrows heavily at the light.
“You have returned,” he said, with shaky dignity. “Ah! Very well! I——”
He broke off. Nostromo, leaning back against the table, his arms folded on his breast, nodded at him slightly.
“You thought I was drowned! No! The best dog of the rich, of the aristocrats296, of these fine men who can only talk and betray the people, is not dead yet.”
The Garibaldino, motionless, seemed to drink in the sound of the well-known voice. His head moved slightly once as if in sign of approval; but Nostromo saw clearly that the old man understood nothing of the words. There was no one to understand; no one he could take into the confidence of Decoud’s fate, of his own, into the secret of the silver. That doctor was an enemy of the people — a tempter . . . .
Old Giorgio’s heavy frame shook from head to foot with the effort to overcome his emotion at the sight of that man, who had shared the intimacies297 of his domestic life as though he had been a grown-up son.
“She believed yon would return,” he said, solemnly.
Nostromo raised his head.
“She was a wise woman. How could I fail to come back ——?”
He finished the thought mentally: “Since she has prophesied for me an end of poverty, misery, and starvation.” These words of Teresa’s anger, from the circumstances in which they had been uttered, like the cry of a soul prevented from making its peace with God, stirred the obscure superstition298 of personal fortune from which even the greatest genius amongst men of adventure and action is seldom free. They reigned299 over Nostromo’s mind with the force of a potent300 malediction. And what a curse it was that which her words had laid upon him! He had been orphaned301 so young that he could remember no other woman whom he called mother. Henceforth there would be no enterprise in which he would not fail. The spell was working already. Death itself would elude302 him now. . . . He said violently —
“Come, viejo! Get me something to eat. I am hungry! Sangre de Dios! The emptiness of my belly303 makes me lightheaded.”
With his chin dropped again upon his bare breast above his folded arms, barefooted, watching from under a gloomy brow the movements of old Viola foraging304 amongst the cupboards, he seemed as if indeed fallen under a curse — a ruined and sinister Capataz.
Old Viola walked out of a dark corner, and, without a word, emptied upon the table out of his hollowed palms a few dry crusts of bread and half a raw onion.
While the Capataz began to devour305 this beggar’s fare, taking up with stony-eyed voracity306 piece after piece lying by his side, the Garibaldino went off, and squatting307 down in another corner filled an earthenware mug with red wine out of a wicker-covered demijohn. With a familiar gesture, as when serving customers in the cafe, he had thrust his pipe between his teeth to have his hands free.
The Capataz drank greedily. A slight flush deepened the bronze of his cheek. Before him, Viola, with a turn of his white and massive head towards the staircase, took his empty pipe out of his mouth, and pronounced slowly —
“After the shot was fired down here, which killed her as surely as if the bullet had struck her oppressed heart, she called upon you to save the children. Upon you, Gian’ Battista.”
The Capataz looked up.
“Did she do that, Padrone? To save the children! They are with the English senora, their rich benefactress. Hey! old man of the people. Thy benefactress . . . .”
“I am old,” muttered Giorgio Viola. “An Englishwoman was allowed to give a bed to Garibaldi lying wounded in prison. The greatest man that ever lived. A man of the people, too — a sailor. I may let another keep a roof over my head. Si . . . I am old. I may let her. Life lasts too long sometimes.”
“And she herself may not have a roof over her head before many days are out, unless I . . . What do you say? Am I to keep a roof over her head? Am I to try — and save all the Blancos together with her?”
“You shall do it,” said old Viola in a strong voice. “You shall do it as my son would have . . . .”
“Thy son, viejo! .. .. There never has been a man like thy son. Ha, I must try. . . . But what if it were only a part of the curse to lure308 me on? . . . And so she called upon me to save — and then ——?”
“She spoke no more.” The heroic follower309 of Garibaldi, at the thought of the eternal stillness and silence fallen upon the shrouded310 form stretched out on the bed upstairs, averted311 his face and raised his hand to his furrowed312 brow. “She was dead before I could seize her hands,” he stammered313 out, pitifully.
Before the wide eyes of the Capataz, staring at the doorway of the dark staircase, floated the shape of the Great Isabel, like a strange ship in distress314, freighted with enormous wealth and the solitary315 life of a man. It was impossible for him to do anything. He could only hold his tongue, since there was no one to trust. The treasure would be lost, probably — unless Decoud. . . . And his thought came abruptly to an end. He perceived that he could not imagine in the least what Decoud was likely to do.
Old Viola had not stirred. And the motionless Capataz dropped his long, soft eyelashes, which gave to the upper part of his fierce, black-whiskered face a touch of feminine ingenuousness316. The silence had lasted for a long time.
“God rest her soul!” he murmured, gloomily.
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收听单词发音
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1
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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2
pealing
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的现在分词 ) | |
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3
vacuity
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| n.(想象力等)贫乏，无聊，空白 | |
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4
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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5
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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11
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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12
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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13
repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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repelling
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| v.击退( repel的现在分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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15
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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16
aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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liberated
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| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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28
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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30
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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32
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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33
prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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34
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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35
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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negotiation
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| n.谈判，协商 | |
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37
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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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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40
velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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41
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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42
decomposed
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| 已分解的，已腐烂的 | |
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43
orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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44
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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45
sleeplessness
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| n.失眠，警觉 | |
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46
envoy
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| n.使节，使者，代表，公使 | |
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47
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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48
ponchos
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| n.斗篷( poncho的名词复数 ) | |
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49
prostration
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| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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50
spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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51
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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52
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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53
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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54
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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55
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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56
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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57
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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58
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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59
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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60
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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61
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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62
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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64
morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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65
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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66
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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67
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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68
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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69
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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70
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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71
panegyric
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| n.颂词，颂扬 | |
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72
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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73
colloquialism
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| n.俗话，白话，口语 | |
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74
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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75
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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76
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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77
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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78
facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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79
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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80
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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81
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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82
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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83
partisans
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| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
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84
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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85
slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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86
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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87
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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88
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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89
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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90
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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91
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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92
fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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93
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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94
malediction
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| n.诅咒 | |
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95
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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96
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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97
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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98
extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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99
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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101
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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102
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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103
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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104
squinted
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| 斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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105
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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106
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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107
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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108
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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109
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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110
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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111
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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112
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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113
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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114
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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115
prodding
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| v.刺，戳( prod的现在分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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116
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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117
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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118
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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119
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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120
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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121
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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122
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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123
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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124
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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125
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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126
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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127
consultations
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| n.磋商（会议）( consultation的名词复数 )；商讨会；协商会；查找 | |
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128
contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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129
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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130
pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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131
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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132
venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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133
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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134
irresolution
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| n.不决断，优柔寡断，犹豫不定 | |
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135
avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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136
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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137
taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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138
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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139
grovelled
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| v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的过去式和过去分词 )；趴 | |
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140
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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141
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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142
askew
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| adv.斜地；adj.歪斜的 | |
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143
pendulum
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| n.摆，钟摆 | |
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144
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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145
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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146
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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147
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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148
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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149
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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150
aspersed
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| v.毁坏（名誉），中伤，诽谤( asperse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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151
concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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152
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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153
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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154
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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155
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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156
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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157
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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158
extorted
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| v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 )；曲解 | |
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159
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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160
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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161
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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162
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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163
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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164
truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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165
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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166
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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167
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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168
covetousness
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169
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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170
destitution
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| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
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171
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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172
guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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173
monstrously
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174
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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175
ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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176
buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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177
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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178
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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179
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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180
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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181
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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182
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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183
rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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184
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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185
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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186
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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187
weirdly
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| 古怪地 | |
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188
latches
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| n.（门窗的）门闩( latch的名词复数 )；碰锁v.理解( latch的第三人称单数 )；纠缠；用碰锁锁上（门等）；附着（在某物上） | |
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189
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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190
scurries
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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191
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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192
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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193
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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194
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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195
impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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196
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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197
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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198
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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199
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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200
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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201
forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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202
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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203
fanaticism
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| n.狂热，盲信 | |
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204
abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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205
sardonically
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| adv.讽刺地，冷嘲地 | |
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206
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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207
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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208
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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209
kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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210
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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211
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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212
ironic
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| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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213
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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214
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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215
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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216
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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217
rapacity
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| n.贪婪，贪心，劫掠的欲望 | |
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218
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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219
contingencies
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| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
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220
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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221
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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222
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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223
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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224
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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225
intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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226
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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227
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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228
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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229
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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230
stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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231
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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232
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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233
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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234
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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235
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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236
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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237
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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238
ransacking
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的现在分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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239
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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240
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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241
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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242
persevere
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| v.坚持，坚忍，不屈不挠 | |
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243
torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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244
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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245
opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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246
blotch
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| n.大斑点；红斑点；v.使沾上污渍，弄脏 | |
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247
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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248
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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249
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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250
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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251
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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252
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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253
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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254
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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255
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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256
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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257
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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258
beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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259
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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260
plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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261
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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262
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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263
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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264
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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265
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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266
retrieving
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| n.检索（过程），取还v.取回( retrieve的现在分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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267
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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268
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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269
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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270
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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271
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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272
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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273
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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274
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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275
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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276
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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277
falteringly
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| 口吃地，支吾地 | |
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278
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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279
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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280
evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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281
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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282
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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283
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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284
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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285
bereavement
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| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
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286
dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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287
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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288
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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289
earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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290
porous
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| adj.可渗透的，多孔的 | |
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291
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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292
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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293
barricading
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| 设路障于，以障碍物阻塞( barricade的现在分词 )； 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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294
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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295
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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296
aristocrats
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| n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
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297
intimacies
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| 亲密( intimacy的名词复数 )； 密切； 亲昵的言行； 性行为 | |
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298
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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299
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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300
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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301
orphaned
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| [计][修]孤立 | |
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302
elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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303
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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304
foraging
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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305
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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306
voracity
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| n.贪食，贪婪 | |
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307
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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308
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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309
follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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310
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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311
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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312
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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313
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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314
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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315
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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316
ingenuousness
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| n.率直；正直；老实 | |
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