Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 8. CHAPTER EIGHT (continued)

He went on to develop his view of Sotillo's dangerous influence
upon the situation. And the Capataz, listening as if in a dream,
felt himself of as little account as the indistinct, motionless
shape of the dead man whom he saw upright under the beam, with
his air of listening also, disregarded, forgotten, like a
terrible example of neglect.

"Was it for an unconsidered and foolish whim that they came to
me, then?" he interrupted suddenly. "Had I not done enough for
them to be of some account, por Dios? Is it that the hombres
finos--the gentlemen--need not think as long as there is a man
of the people ready to risk his body and soul? Or, perhaps, we
have no souls--like dogs?"

"There was Decoud, too, with his plan," the doctor reminded him
again.

"Si! And the rich man in San Francisco who had something to do
with that treasure, too--what do I know? No! I have heard too
many things. It seems to me that everything is permitted to the
rich."

"I understand, Capataz," the doctor began.

"What Capataz?" broke in Nostromo, in a forcible but even voice.
"The Capataz is undone, destroyed. There is no Capataz. Oh, no!
You will find the Capataz no more."

"Come, this is childish!" remonstrated the doctor; and the other
calmed down suddenly.

"I have been indeed like a little child," he muttered.

And as his eyes met again the shape of the murdered man suspended
in his awful immobility, which seemed the uncomplaining
immobility of attention, he asked, wondering gently--

"Why did Sotillo give the estrapade to this pitiful wretch? Do
you know? No torture could have been worse than his fear. Killing
I can understand. His anguish was intolerable to behold. But why
should he torment him like this? He could tell no more."