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

here. And I suppose they are homesick. I suppose everybodymust be always just a little homesick.’She was always sorry for homesick people.Born in the country, as his father before him, spare andtall, with a flaming moustache, a neat chin, clear blue eyes,auburn hair, and a thin, fresh, red face, Charles Gouldlooked like a new arrival from over the sea. His grandfatherhad fought in the cause of independence under Bolivar, inthat famous English legion which on the battlefield of Carabobohad been saluted by the great Liberator as Savioursof his country. One of Charles Gould’s uncles had beenthe elected President of that very province of Sulaco (thencalled a State) in the days of Federation, and afterwards hadbeen put up against the wall of a church and shot by theorder of the barbarous Unionist general, Guzman Bento. Itwas the same Guzman Bento who, becoming later PerpetualPresident, famed for his ruthless and cruel tyranny, readiedhis apotheosis in the popular legend of a sanguinary landhauntingspectre whose body had been carried off by thedevil in person from the brick mausoleum in the nave ofthe Church of Assumption in Sta. Marta. Thus, at least, thepriests explained its disappearance to the barefooted multitudethat streamed in, awestruck, to gaze at the hole in theside of the ugly box of bricks before the great altar.Guzman Bento of cruel memory had put to death greatnumbers of people besides Charles Gould’s uncle; but witha relative martyred in the cause of aristocracy, the SulacoOligarchs (this was the phraseology of Guzman Bento’stime; now they were called Blancos, and had given up the