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Within the Tides-Part19_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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The other made a mysteriousgesture with a tiny hand peeping from

under his cloak. His hat hung very much at the side of his head.



"Senor," he said without any preliminaries. "Caution! It is a

positive fact that one-eyed Bernardino, my brother-in-law, has at



this moment a mule in his stable. And why he who is not clever has

a mule there? Because he is a rogue; a man without conscience.



Because I had to give up the MACHO to him to secure for myself a

roof to sleep under and a mouthful of OLLA to keep my soul in this



insignificant body of mine. Yet, senor, it contains a heart many

times bigger than the mean thing which beats in the breast of that



brute connection of mine of which I am ashamed, though I opposed

that marriage with all my power. Well, the misguided woman



suffered enough. She had her purgatory on this earth - God rest

her soul."



Byrne says he was so astonished by the sudden appearance of that

sprite-like being, and by the sardonic bitterness of the speech,



that he was unable to disentangle the significant fact from what

seemed but a piece of family history fired out at him without rhyme



or reason. Not at first. He was confounded and at the same time

he was impressed by the rapid forcible delivery, quite different



from the frothy excited loquacity of an Italian. So he stared

while the homunculus letting his cloak fall about him, aspired an



immense quantity of snuff out of the hollow of his palm.

"A mule," exclaimed Byrne seizing at last the real aspect of the



discourse. "You say he has got a mule? That's queer! Why did he

refuse to let me have it?"



The diminutive Spaniard muffled himself up again with great

dignity.



"QUIEN SABE," he said coldly, with a shrug of his draped shoulders.

"He is a great POLITICO in everything he does. But one thing your



worship may be certain of - that his intentions are always

rascally. This husband of my DEFUNTA sister ought to have been



married a long time ago to the widow with the wooden legs." (1)

"I see. But remember that; whatever your motives, your worship



countenanced him in this lie."

The bright unhappy eyes on each side of a predatory nose confronted



Byrne without wincing, while with that testiness which lurks so

often at the bottom of Spanish dignity -



"No doubt the senor officer would not lose an ounce of blood if I

were stuck under the fifth rib," he retorted. "But what of this



poor sinner here?" Then changing his tone. "Senor, by the

necessities of the times I live here in exile, a Castilian and an



old Christian, existing miserably in the midst of these brute

Asturians, and dependent on the worst of them all, who has less



conscience and scruples than a wolf. And being a man of

intelligence I govern myself accordingly. Yet I can hardly contain



my scorn. You have heard the way I spoke. A caballero of parts

like your worship might have guessed that there was a cat in



there."

"What cat?" said Byrne uneasily. "Oh, I see. Something



suspicious. No, senor. I guessed nothing. My nation are not good

guessers at that sort of thing; and, therefore, I ask you plainly



whether that wine-seller has spoken the truth in other

particulars?"



"There are certainly no Frenchmen anywhere about," said the little

man with a return to his indifferent manner.



"Or robbers - LADRONES?"

"LADRONES EN GRANDE - no! Assuredly not," was the answer in a cold



philosophical tone. "What is there left for them to do after the

French? And nobody travels in these times. But who can say!



Opportunity makes the robber. Still that mariner of yours has a

fierce aspect, and with the son of a cat rats will have no play.



But there is a saying, too, that where honey is there will soon be

flies."



This oracular discourse exasperated Byrne. "In the name of God,"

he cried, "tell me plainly if you think my man is reasonably safe



on his journey."

The homunculus, undergoing one of his rapid changes, seized the






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