Page 216 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

first pause. Their comparative isolation, the precious sense
of intimacy, the slight contact of their arms, affected him
softly; for now and then a tender inflection crept into the
flow of his ironic murmurs.
‘Any slight sign of favour from a relative of yours is wel-
come, Antonia. And perhaps he understands me, after all!
But I know him, too, our Padre Corbelan. The idea of po-
litical honour, justice, and honesty for him consists in the
restitution of the confiscated Church property. Nothing
else could have drawn that fierce converter of savage Indi-
ans out of the wilds to work for the Ribierist cause! Nothing
else but that wild hope! He would make a pronunciamien-
to himself for such an object against any Government if
he could only get followers! What does Don Carlos Gould
think of that? But, of course, with his English impenetrabil-
ity, nobody can tell what he thinks. Probably he thinks of
nothing apart from his mine; of his ‘Imperium in Imperio.’
As to Mrs. Gould, she thinks of her schools, of her hospitals,
of the mothers with the young babies, of every sick old man
in the three villages. If you were to turn your head now you
would see her extracting a report from that sinister doc-
tor in a check shirt—what’s his name? Monygham—or else
catechising Don Pepe or perhaps listening to Padre Roman.
They are all down here to-day—all her ministers of state.
Well, she is a sensible woman, and perhaps Don Carlos is a
sensible man. It’s a part of solid English sense not to think
too much; to see only what may be of practical use at the
moment. These people are not like ourselves. We have no
political reason; we have political passions—sometimes.

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