Nostromo - A Tale of the Seaboard.pdf - Planet eBook

obe, stood by, wearing a rough beaver hat at the back of hishead, and grasping a tall staff with a silver knob in his hand.These insignia of his dignity had been conferred upon himby the Administration of the mine, the fountain of honour,of prosperity, and peace. He had been one of the first immigrantsinto this valley; his sons and sons-in-law workedwithin the mountain which seemed with its treasures topour down the thundering ore shoots of the upper mesa,the gifts of well-being, security, and justice upon the toilers.He listened to the news from the town with curiosityand indifference, as if concerning another world than hisown. And it was true that they appeared to him so. In avery few years the sense of belonging to a powerful organizationhad been developed in these harassed, half-wildIndians. They were proud of, and attached to, the mine. Ithad secured their confidence and belief. They invested itwith a protecting and invincible virtue as though it were afetish made by their own hands, for they were ignorant, andin other respects did not differ appreciably from the rest ofmankind which puts infinite trust in its own creations. Itnever entered the alcalde’s head that the mine could fail inits protection and force. Politics were good enough for thepeople of the town and the Campo. His yellow, round face,with wide nostrils, and motionless in expression, resembleda fierce full moon. He listened to the excited vapourings ofthe mozo without misgivings, without surprise, withoutany active sentiment whatever.Padre Roman sat dejectedly balancing himself, his feetjust touching the ground, his hands gripping the edge of