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his half-ironic devotion. Many of Nostromo’s speeches I have heard first in Dominic’s voice. His hand on the tiller奇米色图 and his fearless eyes roaming t奇米色图he hori奇米色图zon from within the monkish hood shadowing his face, he would utter the usual exordium of his remorseless wisdom: “Vous autres gentilhommes!” in a caustic tone that hangs on my ear yet. Like Nostromo! “You hombres finos!” Very much like No,n me worthy to command that man’s half-bitter fidelity,