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room for fear in this lighter,’ he added through his teeth.
Decoud had no answer to make. It was not a position for
argument, for a display of scruples or feelings. There were a
thousand ways in which a panic-stricken man could make
himself dangerous. It was evident that Hirsch could not be
spoken to, reasoned with, or persuaded into a rational line
of conduct. The story of his own escape demonstrated that
clearly enough. Decoud thought that it was a thousand pit-
ies the wretch had not died of fright. Nature, who had made
him what he was, seemed to have calculated cruelly how
much he could bear in the way of atrocious anguish with-
out actually expiring. Some compassion was due to so much
terror. Decoud, though imaginative enough for sympathy,
resolved not to interfere with any action that Nostromo
would take. But Nostromo did nothing. And the fate of Se-
nor Hirsch remained suspended in the darkness of the gulf
at the mercy of events which could not be foreseen.
The Capataz, extending his hand, put out the candle sud-
denly. It was to Decoud as if his companion had destroyed,
by a single touch, the world of affairs, of loves, of revolu-
tion, where his complacent superiority analyzed fearlessly
all motives and all passions, including his own.
He gasped a little. Decoud was affected by the novelty of
his position. Intellectually self-confident, he suffered from
being deprived of the only weapon he could use with effect.
No intelligence could penetrate the darkness of the Placid
Gulf. There remained only one thing he was certain of, and
that was the overweening vanity of his companion. It was
direct, uncomplicated, naive, and effectual. Decoud, who

10 Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard