Page 245 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

A puzzled look came upon Mrs. Gould’s face, and
Decoud, approaching, explained confidentially—
‘Don’t you see, he’s such an idealist.’
Mrs. Gould flushed pink, and her eyes grew darker at the
same time.
‘Charley an idealist!’ she said, as if to herself, wonder-
ingly. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Yes,’ conceded Decoud, ‘it’s a wonderful thing to say
with the sight of the San Tome mine, the greatest fact in the
whole of South America, perhaps, before our very eyes. But
look even at that, he has idealized this fact to a point—‘ He
paused. ‘Mrs. Gould, are you aware to what point he has
idealized the existence, the worth, the meaning of the San
Tome mine? Are you aware of it?’
He must have known what he was talking about.
The effect he expected was produced. Mrs. Gould, ready
to take fire, gave it up suddenly with a low little sound that
resembled a moan.
‘What do you know?’ she asked in a feeble voice.
‘Nothing,’ answered Decoud, firmly. ‘But, then, don’t you
see, he’s an Englishman?’
‘Well, what of that?’ asked Mrs. Gould.
‘Simply that he cannot act or exist without idealizing
every simple feeling, desire, or achievement. He could not
believe his own motives if he did not make them first a part
of some fairy tale. The earth is not quite good enough for
him, I fear. Do you excuse my frankness? Besides, whether
you excuse it or not, it is part of the truth of things which
hurts the—what do you call them?—the Anglo-Saxon’s sus-

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard