Page 487 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

‘Si! And the rich man in San Francisco who had some-
thing to do with that treasure, too—what do I know? No! I
have heard too many things. It seems to me that everything
is permitted to the rich.’
‘I understand, Capataz,’ the doctor began.
‘What Capataz?’ broke in Nostromo, in a forcible but
even voice. ‘The Capataz is undone, destroyed. There is no
Capataz. Oh, no! You will find the Capataz no more.’
‘Come, this is childish!’ remonstrated the doctor; and the
other calmed down suddenly.
‘I have been indeed like a little child,’ he muttered.
And as his eyes met again the shape of the murdered man
suspended in his awful immobility, which seemed the un-
complaining immobility of attention, he asked, wondering
gently—
‘Why did Sotillo give the estrapade to this pitiful wretch?
Do you know? No torture could have been worse than his
fear. Killing I can understand. His anguish was intolera-
ble to behold. But why should he torment him like this? He
could tell no more.’
‘No; he could tell nothing more. Any sane man would
have seen that. He had told him everything. But I tell you
what it is, Capataz. Sotillo would not believe what he was
told. Not everything.’
‘What is it he would not believe? I cannot understand.’
‘I can, because I have seen the man. He refuses to believe
that the treasure is lost.’
‘What?’ the Capataz cried out in a discomposed tone.
‘That startles you—eh?’

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard