Page 194 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

‘Yes,’ muttered old Viola, savagely. ‘And meantime they
fight for you. Blind. Esclavos!’
At that moment young Scarfe of the railway staff emerged
from the door of the part reserved for the Signori Inglesi.
He had come down to headquarters from somewhere up the
line on a light engine, and had had just time to get a bath
and change his clothes. He was a nice boy, and Mrs. Gould
welcomed him.
‘It’s a delightful surprise to see you, Mrs. Gould. I’ve just
come down. Usual luck. Missed everything, of course. This
show is just over, and I hear there has been a great dance at
Don Juste Lopez’s last night. Is it true?’
‘The young patricians,’ Decoud began suddenly in his
precise English, ‘have indeed been dancing before they
started off to the war with the Great Pompey.’
Young Scarfe stared, astounded. ‘You haven’t met before,’
Mrs. Gould intervened. ‘Mr. Decoud—Mr. Scarfe.’
‘Ah! But we are not going to Pharsalia,’ protested Don
Jose, with nervous haste, also in English. ‘You should not
jest like this, Martin.’
Antonia’s breast rose and fell with a deeper breath. The
young engineer was utterly in the dark. ‘Great what?’ he
muttered, vaguely.
‘Luckily, Montero is not a Caesar,’ Decoud continued.
‘Not the two Monteros put together would make a decent
parody of a Caesar.’ He crossed his arms on his breast, look-
ing at Senor Avellanos, who had returned to his immobility.
‘It is only you, Don Jose, who are a genuine old Roman—vir
Romanus—eloquent and inflexible.’

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