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The fanaticism of his devotion, fed on the sense of his abasement, hardened his heart in sadness and scorn. "Why not, indeed?" he reechoed, sardonically. "Then the safe thing for you is to kill me on the spot. I would defend myself. But you may just as well know I am going about unarmed." "Por Dios!" said the Capataz, passionately. "You fine people are all alike. All dangerous.

"As true as that; but thou must not ask me to swear it on the Madonna that stands in thy room." And the Capataz laughed a little in response to the grins of the crowd. She pouted very pretty a little uneasy. "No, I will not ask for that. I can see love in your eyes." She laid her hand on his knee. "Why are you trembling like this?

"You have made up your mind, then, to a speedy death," he muttered through his clenched teeth. "Perhaps, my illustrious Capataz," the doctor said, testily. "You are not the only one here who can look an ugly death in the face." "No doubt," mumbled Nostromo, loud enough to be overheard. "There may be even more than two fools in this place. Who knows?"

The Capataz of the Sulaco Cargadores had lived in splendour and publicity up to the very moment, as it were, when he took charge of the lighter containing the treasure of silver ingots. The last act he had performed in Sulaco was in complete harmony with his vanity, and as such perfectly genuine.

Her form drooped consolingly over the low casement towards the slave of the unlawful treasure. The light in the room went out, and weighted with silver, the magnificent Capataz clasped her round her white neck in the darkness of the gulf as a drowning man clutches at a straw. On the day Mrs. Gould was going, in Dr.

My opinion is that she was always in love with that incorruptible Capataz. Moreover, both father and sister were anxious to get Giselle away from the attentions of a certain Ramirez." "Ah!" said Mrs. Gould, interested. "Ramirez? What sort of man is that?" "Just a mozo of the town. His father was a Cargador.

Gould reappeared, having thrown over her dress a grey cloak with a deep hood. It was thus that, cloaked and monastically hooded over her evening costume, this woman, full of endurance and compassion, stood by the side of the bed on which the splendid Capataz de Cargadores lay stretched out motionless on his back.

There were lights in the buildings of the O.S.N. Company near the wharf, but before he got there he met the Gould carriage. The horseman preceded it with the torch, whose light showed the white mules trotting, the portly Ignacio driving, and Basilio with the carbine on the box. From the dark body of the landau Mrs. Gould's voice cried, "They are waiting for you, Capataz!"

There was not one of them that had not, at some time or other, looked with terror at Nostromo's revolver poked very close at his face, or been otherwise daunted by Nostromo's resolution. He was "much of a man," their Capataz was, they said, too scornful in his temper ever to utter abuse, a tireless taskmaster, and the more to be feared because of his aloofness.

The Capataz drank greedily. A slight flush deepened the bronze of his cheek. Before him, Viola, with a turn of his white and massive head towards the staircase, took his empty pipe out of his mouth, and pronounced slowly "After the shot was fired down here, which killed her as surely as if the bullet had struck her oppressed heart, she called upon you to save the children.