Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

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

Decoud lay on the silver boxes panting. All his active sensations
and feelings from as far back as he could remember seemed to him
the maddest of dreams. Even his passionate devotion to Antonia
into which he had worked himself up out of the depths of his
scepticism had lost all appearance of reality. For a moment he
was the prey of an extremely languid but not unpleasant
indifference.

"I am sure they didn't mean you to take such a desperate view of
this affair," he said.

"What was it, then? A joke?" snarled the man, who on the
pay-sheets of the O.S.N. Company's establishment in Sulaco was
described as "Foreman of the wharf" against the figure of his
wages. "Was it for a joke they woke me up from my sleep after two
days of street fighting to make me stake my life upon a bad card?
Everybody knows, too, that I am not a lucky gambler."

"Yes, everybody knows of your good luck with women, Capataz,"
Decoud propitiated his companion in a weary drawl.

"Look here, senor," Nostromo went on. "I never even remonstrated
about this affair. Directly I heard what was wanted I saw what a
desperate affair it must be, and I made up my mind to see it out.
Every minute was of importance. I had to wait for you first.
Then, when we arrived at the Italia Una, old Giorgio shouted to
me to go for the English doctor. Later on, that poor dying woman
wanted to see me, as you know. Senor, I was reluctant to go. I
felt already this cursed silver growing heavy upon my back, and I
was afraid that, knowing herself to be dying, she would ask me to
ride off again for a priest. Father Corbelan, who is fearless,
would have come at a word; but Father Corbelan is far away, safe
with the band of Hernandez, and the populace, that would have
liked to tear him to pieces, are much incensed against the
priests. Not a single fat padre would have consented to put his
head out of his hiding-place to-night to save a Christian soul,
except, perhaps, under my protection. That was in her mind. I
pretended I did not believe she was going to die. Senor, I
refused to fetch a priest for a dying woman . . ."