Page 148 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

carriage, who returned smiles and familiar nods. Old Viola,
evidently very pleased with the news he had just heard, in-
terrupted himself for a moment to tell him rapidly that the
house was secured, by the kindness of the English signora,
for as long as he liked to keep it. The other listened atten-
tively, but made no response.
When the carriage moved on he took off his hat again,
a grey sombrero with a silver cord and tassels. The bright
colours of a Mexican serape twisted on the cantle, the enor-
mous silver buttons on the embroidered leather jacket, the
row of tiny silver buttons down the seam of the trousers,
the snowy linen, a silk sash with embroidered ends, the
silver plates on headstall and saddle, proclaimed the unap-
proachable style of the famous Capataz de Cargadores—a
Mediterranean sailor—got up with more finished splendour
than any well-to-do young ranchero of the Campo had ever
displayed on a high holiday.
‘It is a great thing for me,’ murmured old Giorgio, still
thinking of the house, for now he had grown weary of
change. ‘The signora just said a word to the Englishman.’
‘The old Englishman who has enough money to pay for
a railway? He is going off in an hour,’ remarked Nostromo,
carelessly. ‘Buon viaggio, then. I’ve guarded his bones all
the way from the Entrada pass down to the plain and into
Sulaco, as though he had been my own father.’
Old Giorgio only moved his head sideways absently.
Nostromo pointed after the Goulds’ carriage, nearing the
grass-grown gate in the old town wall that was like a wall
of matted jungle.

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