Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 9. CHAPTER NINE (continued)

"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 persevere, 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 torments than he inflicted 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 opaque long blotch 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 avenged by
me--Nostromo. Out of my way, doctor! Stand aside--or, by the
suffering soul of a woman dead without confession, I will
strangle you with my two hands."