Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
It was a sort of intoxication which made him utterly
indifferent to Decoud's fate, but left his wits perfectly
clear for the appreciation of Decoud's political idea.
It was a good idea, and Barrios was the only instrument of its realization. The doctor's soul, withered
and struck by the shame of a moral disgrace, became
implacable in the expansion of its tenderness. Nostromo's return was providential. He did not think
of him humanely, as of a fellow-creature just escaped
from the jaws of death. The capataz for him was
the only possible messenger to Cayta. The very man.
The doctor's misanthropic mistrust of mankind (the
bitterer because based on personal failure) did not
lift him sufficiently above common weaknesses. He
was under the spell of an established reputation.
Trumpeted by Captain Mitchell, grown in repetition,
and fixed in general assent, Nostromo's faithfulness
had never been questioned by Dr. Monygham as a
fact. It was not likely to be questioned now he stood
in desperate need of it himself. Dr. Monygham was
human; he accepted the popular conception of the
capataz's incorruptibility simply because no word or
fact had ever contradicted a mere affirmation. It
seemed to be a part of the man, like his whiskers or
his teeth. It was impossible to conceive him otherwise. The question was whether he would consent
to go on such a dangerous and desperate errand. The
doctor was observant enough to have become aware
from the first of something peculiar in the man's temper. He was no doubt sore about the loss of the
silver.
"It will be necessary to take him into my fullest
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