Page 111 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

The Excellency was a man of many moods. With the re-
ceipt of the money a great mellowness had descended upon
his simple soul. Unexpectedly he fetched a deep sigh.
‘Ah, Don Carlos! What we want is advanced men like you
in the province. The lethargy—the lethargy of these aristo-
crats! The want of public spirit! The absence of all enterprise!
I, with my profound studies in Europe, you understand—‘
With one hand thrust into his swelling bosom, he rose
and fell on his toes, and for ten minutes, almost without
drawing breath, went on hurling himself intellectually to
the assault of Charles Gould’s polite silence; and when, stop-
ping abruptly, he fell back into his chair, it was as though he
had been beaten off from a fortress. To save his dignity he
hastened to dismiss this silent man with a solemn inclina-
tion of the head and the words, pronounced with moody,
fatigued condescension—
‘You may depend upon my enlightened goodwill as long
as your conduct as a good citizen deserves it.’
He took up a paper fan and began to cool himself with
a consequential air, while Charles Gould bowed and with-
drew. Then he dropped the fan at once, and stared with an
appearance of wonder and perplexity at the closed door for
quite a long time. At last he shrugged his shoulders as if to
assure himself of his disdain. Cold, dull. No intellectuality.
Red hair. A true Englishman. He despised him.
His face darkened. What meant this unimpressed and
frigid behaviour? He was the first of the successive poli-
ticians sent out from the capital to rule the Occidental
Province whom the manner of Charles Gould in official in-

110 Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard