Page 437 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

the country,’ ‘The entire world, el mundo entiero’—reached
even the packed steps of the cathedral with a feeble clear
ring, thin as the buzzing of a mosquito. But the orator
struck his breast; he seemed to prance between his two sup-
porters. It was the supreme effort of his peroration. Then
the two smaller figures disappeared from the public gaze
and the enormous Gamacho, left alone, advanced, rais-
ing his hat high above his head. Then he covered himself
proudly and yelled out, ‘Ciudadanos!’ A dull roar greeted
Senor Gamacho, ex-pedlar of the Campo, Commandante
of the National Guards.
Upstairs Pedrito Montero walked about rapidly from
one wrecked room of the Intendencia to another, snarling
incessantly—
‘What stupidity! What destruction!’
Senor Fuentes, following, would relax his taciturn
disposition to murmur—
‘It is all the work of Gamacho and his Nationals;’ and
then, inclining his head on his left shoulder, would press
together his lips so firmly that a little hollow would appear
at each corner. He had his nomination for Political Chief
of the town in his pocket, and was all impatience to enter
upon his functions.
In the long audience room, with its tall mirrors all starred
by stones, the hangings torn down and the canopy over the
platform at the upper end pulled to pieces, the vast, deep
muttering of the crowd and the howling voice of Gamacho
speaking just below reached them through the shutters as
they stood idly in dimness and desolation.

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard