Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
And to put himself in open hostility was madness, too. It would render impossible a systematic search for that treasure, for that wealth of silver which he seemed feel somewhere about, to scent somewhere near. But where? Where? Heavens! Where? Oh! why did he allowed that doctor to go? Imbecile that he was. But no! It was the only right course, he reflected, distractedly, while the messenger waited downstairs chatting agreeably to the officers. It was in that scoundrelly doctor's true interest to return with positive information. But what, if anything, stopped him? A general prohibition to leave the town, for instance! There would be patrols!
The colonel, seizing his head in his hands, turned upon himself as if struck with vertigo. A flash of craven inspiration suggested to him an expedient not unknown to European statesmen when they wish to delay a difficult negotiation. Booted and spurred, he scrambled into the hammock with undignified haste. His handsome face had turned yellow with the strain of weighty cares. The ridge of his shapely nose had grown sharp; the audacious nostrils appeared mean and pinched. The velvety, caressing glance of his fine eyes seemed dead and even decomposed, for these almond-shaped, languishing orbs had become appropriately bloodshot with much sinister sleeplessness. He addressed the surprised envoy of Señor Fuentes in a deadened, exhausted voice. It came pathetically feeble from under a vast pile of ponchos which buried his elegant person right up to the black mustaches, uncurled, pendent, in sign of bodily prostration and mental incapacity. Fever, fever—a heavy
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