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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"Nostromo, a Tale of the Seaboard"

Nowadays it was not so easy to govern
Sulaco. Bad characters flocked into it, attracted by the money in the
pockets of the railway workmen. The populace was made restless by Father
Corbelan's discourses. And the first magistrate explained to Charles
Gould that now the province was stripped of troops any outbreak of
lawlessness would find the authorities with their boots off, as it were.
Then he went away moodily to sit in an armchair, smoking a long, thin
cigar, not very far from Don Jose, with whom, bending over sideways, he
exchanged a few words from time to time. He ignored the entrance of the
priest, and whenever Father Corbelan's voice was raised behind him, he
shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
Father Corbelan had remained quite motionless for a time with that
something vengeful in his immobility which seemed to characterize all
his attitudes. A lurid glow of strong convictions gave its peculiar
aspect to the black figure. But its fierceness became softened as the
padre, fixing his eyes upon Decoud, raised his long, black arm slowly,
impressively--
"And you--you are a perfect heathen," he said, in a subdued, deep voice.


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