Page 191 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

deep to be uttered in words even to her husband. She un-
derstood his voiceless reserve better now. Their confidential
intercourse fell, not in moments of privacy, but precisely in
public, when the quick meeting of their glances would com-
ment upon some fresh turn of events. She had gone to his
school of uncompromising silence, the only one possible,
since so much that seemed shocking, weird, and grotesque
in the working out of their purposes had to be accepted
as normal in this country. Decidedly, the stately Antonia
looked more mature and infinitely calm; but she would nev-
er have known how to reconcile the sudden sinkings of her
heart with an amiable mobility of expression.
Mrs. Gould smiled a good-bye at Barrios, nodded round
to the Europeans (who raised their hats simultaneously)
with an engaging invitation, ‘I hope to see you all present-
ly, at home”; then said nervously to Decoud, ‘Get in, Don
Martin,’ and heard him mutter to himself in French, as he
opened the carriage door, ‘Le sort en est jete.’ She heard him
with a sort of exasperation. Nobody ought to have known
better than himself that the first cast of dice had been al-
ready thrown long ago in a most desperate game. Distant
acclamations, words of command yelled out, and a roll of
drums on the jetty greeted the departing general. Some-
thing like a slight faintness came over her, and she looked
blankly at Antonia’s still face, wondering what would hap-
pen to Charley if that absurd man failed. ‘A la casa, Ignacio,’
she cried at the motionless broad back of the coachman,
who gathered the reins without haste, mumbling to himself
under his breath, ‘Si, la casa. Si, si nina.’

1 0 Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard