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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Ностромо
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- Стр. 181/274
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Bareheaded
,
in
a
thin
shirt
and
drawers
,
he
felt
the
lingering
warmth
of
the
fine
sand
under
the
soles
of
his
feet
.
The
narrow
strand
gleamed
far
ahead
in
a
long
curve
,
defining
the
outline
of
this
wild
side
of
the
harbour
.
He
flitted
along
the
shore
like
a
pursued
shadow
between
the
sombre
palm-groves
and
the
sheet
of
water
lying
as
still
as
death
on
his
right
hand
.
He
strode
with
headlong
haste
in
the
silence
and
solitude
as
though
he
had
forgotten
all
prudence
and
caution
.
But
he
knew
that
on
this
side
of
the
water
he
ran
no
risk
of
discovery
.
The
only
inhabitant
was
a
lonely
,
silent
,
apathetic
Indian
in
charge
of
the
palmarias
,
who
brought
sometimes
a
load
of
cocoanuts
to
the
town
for
sale
.
He
lived
without
a
woman
in
an
open
shed
,
with
a
perpetual
fire
of
dry
sticks
smouldering
near
an
old
canoe
lying
bottom
up
on
the
beach
.
He
could
be
easily
avoided
.
The
barking
of
the
dogs
about
that
man
's
ranche
was
the
first
thing
that
checked
his
speed
.
He
had
forgotten
the
dogs
.
He
swerved
sharply
,
and
plunged
into
the
palm-grove
,
as
into
a
wilderness
of
columns
in
an
immense
hall
,
whose
dense
obscurity
seemed
to
whisper
and
rustle
faintly
high
above
his
head
.
He
traversed
it
,
entered
a
ravine
,
and
climbed
to
the
top
of
a
steep
ridge
free
of
trees
and
bushes
.
From
there
,
open
and
vague
in
the
starlight
,
he
saw
the
plain
between
the
town
and
the
harbour
.
In
the
woods
above
some
night-bird
made
a
strange
drumming
noise
.
Below
beyond
the
palmaria
on
the
beach
,
the
Indian
's
dogs
continued
to
bark
uproariously
.
He
wondered
what
had
upset
them
so
much
,
and
,
peering
down
from
his
elevation
,
was
surprised
to
detect
unaccountable
movements
of
the
ground
below
,
as
if
several
oblong
pieces
of
the
plain
had
been
in
motion
.
Those
dark
,
shifting
patches
,
alternately
catching
and
eluding
the
eye
,
altered
their
place
always
away
from
the
harbour
,
with
a
suggestion
of
consecutive
order
and
purpose
.
A
light
dawned
upon
him
.
It
was
a
column
of
infantry
on
a
night
march
towards
the
higher
broken
country
at
the
foot
of
the
hills
.
But
he
was
too
much
in
the
dark
about
everything
for
wonder
and
speculation
.
The
plain
had
resumed
its
shadowy
immobility
.
He
descended
the
ridge
and
found
himself
in
the
open
solitude
,
between
the
harbour
and
the
town
.
Its
spaciousness
,
extended
indefinitely
by
an
effect
of
obscurity
,
rendered
more
sensible
his
profound
isolation
.
His
pace
became
slower
.
No
one
waited
for
him
;
no
one
thought
of
him
;
no
one
expected
or
wished
his
return
.
"
Betrayed
!
Betrayed
!
"
he
muttered
to
himself
.
No
one
cared
.
He
might
have
been
drowned
by
this
time
.
No
one
would
have
cared
--
unless
,
perhaps
,
the
children
,
he
thought
to
himself
.
But
they
were
with
the
English
signora
,
and
not
thinking
of
him
at
all
.
He
wavered
in
his
purpose
of
making
straight
for
the
Casa
Viola
.
To
what
end
?
What
could
he
expect
there
?
His
life
seemed
to
fail
him
in
all
its
details
,
even
to
the
scornful
reproaches
of
Teresa
.
He
was
aware
painfully
of
his
reluctance
.
Was
it
that
remorse
which
she
had
prophesied
with
,
what
he
saw
now
,
was
her
last
breath
?
Meantime
,
he
had
deviated
from
the
straight
course
,
inclining
by
a
sort
of
instinct
to
the
right
,
towards
the
jetty
and
the
harbour
,
the
scene
of
his
daily
labours
.
The
great
length
of
the
Custom
House
loomed
up
all
at
once
like
the
wall
of
a
factory
.
Not
a
soul
challenged
his
approach
,
and
his
curiosity
became
excited
as
he
passed
cautiously
towards
the
front
by
the
unexpected
sight
of
two
lighted
windows
.
They
had
the
fascination
of
a
lonely
vigil
kept
by
some
mysterious
watcher
up
there
,
those
two
windows
shining
dimly
upon
the
harbour
in
the
whole
vast
extent
of
the
abandoned
building
.
The
solitude
could
almost
be
felt
.
A
strong
smell
of
wood
smoke
hung
about
in
a
thin
haze
,
which
was
faintly
perceptible
to
his
raised
eyes
against
the
glitter
of
the
stars
.
As
he
advanced
in
the
profound
silence
,
the
shrilling
of
innumerable
cicalas
in
the
dry
grass
seemed
positively
deafening
to
his
strained
ears
.
Slowly
,
step
by
step
,
he
found
himself
in
the
great
hall
,
sombre
and
full
of
acrid
smoke
.
