Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART SECOND: THE ISABELS 3. CHAPTER THREE (continued)

It was then that Martin Decoud, the adopted child of Western
Europe, felt the absolute change of atmosphere. He submitted to
being embraced and talked to without a word. He was moved in
spite of himself by that note of passion and sorrow unknown on
the more refined stage of European politics. But when the tall
Antonia, advancing with her light step in the dimness of the big
bare Sala of the Avellanos house, offered him her hand (in her
emancipated way), and murmured, "I am glad to see you here, Don
Martin," he felt how impossible it would be to tell these two
people that he had intended to go away by the next month's
packet. Don Jose, meantime, continued his praises. Every
accession added to public confidence, and, besides, what an
example to the young men at home from the brilliant defender of
the country's regeneration, the worthy expounder of the party's
political faith before the world! Everybody had read the
magnificent article in the famous Parisian Review. The world was
now informed: and the author's appearance at this moment was
like a public act of faith. Young Decoud felt overcome by a
feeling of impatient confusion. His plan had been to return by
way of the United States through California, visit Yellowstone
Park, see Chicago, Niagara, have a look at Canada, perhaps make a
short stay in New York, a longer one in Newport, use his letters
of introduction. The pressure of Antonia's hand was so frank, the
tone of her voice was so unexpectedly unchanged in its approving
warmth, that all he found to say after his low bow was--

"I am inexpressibly grateful for your welcome; but why need a man
be thanked for returning to his native country? I am sure Dona
Antonia does not think so."

"Certainly not, senor," she said, with that perfectly calm
openness of manner which characterized all her utterances. "But
when he returns, as you return, one may be glad--for the sake of
both."