PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE
8. CHAPTER EIGHT
(continued)
There is no more evanescent quality in an accomplished fact than
its wonderfulness. Solicited incessantly by the considerations
affecting its fears and desires, the human mind turns naturally
away from the marvellous side of events. And it was in the most
natural way possible that the doctor asked this man whom only two
minutes before he believed to have been drowned in the gulf--
"You have seen somebody up there? Have you?"
"No, I have not seen him."
"Then how do you know?"
"I was running away from his shadow when we met."
"His shadow?"
"Yes. His shadow in the lighted room," said Nostromo, in a
contemptuous tone. Leaning back with folded arms at the foot of
the immense building, he dropped his head, biting his lips
slightly, and not looking at the doctor. "Now," he thought to
himself, "he will begin asking me about the treasure."
But the doctor's thoughts were concerned with an event not as
marvellous as Nostromo's appearance, but in itself much less
clear. Why had Sotillo taken himself off with his whole command
with this suddenness and secrecy? What did this move portend?
However, it dawned upon the doctor that the man upstairs was one
of the officers left behind by the disappointed colonel to
communicate with him.
"I believe he is waiting for me," he said.
"It is possible."
"I must see. Do not go away yet, Capataz."
"Go away where?" muttered Nostromo.
Already the doctor had left him. He remained leaning against the
wall, staring at the dark water of the harbour; the shrilling of
cicalas filled his ears. An invincible vagueness coming over his
thoughts took from them all power to determine his will.
"Capataz! Capataz!" the doctor's voice called urgently from
above.
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