Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
retirement into a dangerous strife at the call of his fellows, had the right to speak with the authority of his self-sacrifice. And yet she was made uneasy. He was more pathetic than promising, this first civilian Chief of the State Costaguana had ever known, pronouncing, glass in hand, his simple watchwords of honesty, peace, respect for law, political good faith abroad and at home—the safeguards of national honor.
He sat down. During the respectful, appreciative buzz of voices that followed the speech, General Montero raised a pair of heavy, drooping eyelids and rolled his eyes with a sort of uneasy dulness from face to face. The military backwoods hero of the party, though secretly impressed by the sudden novelties and splendors of his position (he had never been on board a ship before, and had hardly ever seen the sea except from a distance), understood by a sort of instinct the advantage his surly, unpolished attitude of a savage fighter gave him among all these refined Blanco aristocrats. But why was it that nobody was looking at him? he wondered to himself, angrily. He was able to spell out the print of newspapers, and knew that he had performed the "greatest military exploit of modern times."
"My husband wanted the railway," Mrs. Gould said to Sir John in the general murmur of resumed conversations. "All this brings nearer the sort of future we desire for the country, which has waited for it in sorrow long enough, God knows. But I will confess that the other day, during my afternoon drive, when I suddenly saw an Indian boy ride out of a wood with the
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