Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART SECOND: THE ISABELS 7. CHAPTER SEVEN (continued)

Even now, ill as she was, ill enough to feel the chill, black
breath of the approaching end, she had wished to see him. It was
like putting out her benumbed hand to regain her hold. But she
had presumed too much on her strength. She could not command her
thoughts; they had become dim, like her vision. The words
faltered on her lips, and only the paramount anxiety and desire
of her life seemed to be too strong for death.

The Capataz said, "I have heard these things many times. You are
unjust, but it does not hurt me. Only now you do not seem to have
much strength to talk, and I have but little time to listen. I am
engaged in a work of very great moment."

She made an effort to ask him whether it was true that he had
found time to go and fetch a doctor for her. Nostromo nodded
affirmatively.

She was pleased: it relieved her sufferings to know that the man
had condescended to do so much for those who really wanted his
help. It was a proof of his friendship. Her voice become
stronger.

"I want a priest more than a doctor," she said, pathetically. She
did not move her head; only her eyes ran into the corners to
watch the Capataz standing by the side of her bed. "Would you go
to fetch a priest for me now? Think! A dying woman asks you!"

Nostromo shook his head resolutely. He did not believe in priests
in their sacerdotal character. A doctor was an efficacious
person; but a priest, as priest, was nothing, incapable of doing
either good or harm. Nostromo did not even dislike the sight of
them as old Giorgio did. The utter uselessness of the errand was
what struck him most.

"Padrona," he said, "you have been like this before, and got
better after a few days. I have given you already the very last
moments I can spare. Ask Senora Gould to send you one."