PART SECOND: THE ISABELS
6. CHAPTER SIX
 (continued)
"Upon the whole," he continued, "I suppose he expects something
 
to his advantage from it. You mustn't forget that he does not
 
exercise his extraordinary power over the lower classes without a
 
certain amount of personal risk and without a great profusion in
 
spending his money. One must pay in some way or other for such a
 
solid thing as individual prestige. He told me after we made
 
friends at a dance, in a Posada kept by a Mexican just outside
 
the walls, that he had come here to make his fortune. I suppose
 
he looks upon his prestige as a sort of investment." 
 
"Perhaps he prizes it for its own sake," Mrs. Gould said in a
 
tone as if she were repelling an undeserved aspersion. "Viola,
 
the Garibaldino, with whom he has lived for some years, calls him
 
the Incorruptible." 
 
"Ah! he belongs to the group of your proteges out there towards
 
the harbour, Mrs. Gould.   Muy bien.  And Captain Mitchell calls
 
him wonderful. I have heard no end of tales of his strength, his
 
audacity, his fidelity. No end of fine things. H'm!
 
incorruptible!  It is indeed a name of honour for the Capataz of
 
the Cargadores of Sulaco. Incorruptible! Fine, but vague.
 
However, I suppose he's sensible, too. And I talked to him upon
 
that sane and practical assumption." 
 
"I prefer to think him disinterested, and therefore trustworthy,"
 
Mrs. Gould said, with the nearest approach to curtness it was in
 
her nature to assume. 
 
"Well, if so, then the silver will be still more safe.  Let it
 
come down, senora. Let it come down, so that it may go north and
 
return to us in the shape of credit." 
 
Mrs. Gould glanced along the corredor towards the door of her
 
husband's room. Decoud, watching her as if she had his fate in
 
her hands, detected an almost imperceptible nod of assent. He
 
bowed with a smile, and, putting his hand into the breast pocket
 
of his coat, pulled out a fan of light feathers set upon painted
 
leaves of sandal-wood. "I had it in my pocket," he murmured,
 
triumphantly, "for a plausible pretext." He bowed again.
 
"Good-night, senora." 
 
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