Page 263 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

holes for windows, probably used in old times for the better
defence against the savages, when the persistent barbarism
of our native continent did not wear the black coats of poli-
ticians, but went about yelling, half-naked, with bows and
arrows in its hands. The woman of the house is dying up
there, I believe, all alone with her old husband. There is a
narrow staircase, the sort of staircase one man could eas-
ily defend against a mob, leading up there, and I have just
heard, through the thickness of the wall, the old fellow go-
ing down into their kitchen for something or other. It was
a sort of noise a mouse might make behind the plaster of
a wall. All the servants they had ran away yesterday and
have not returned yet, if ever they do. For the rest, there are
only two children here, two girls. The father has sent them
downstairs, and they have crept into this cafe, perhaps be-
cause I am here. They huddle together in a corner, in each
other’s arms; I just noticed them a few minutes ago, and I
feel more lonely than ever.’
Decoud turned half round in his chair, and asked, ‘Is
there any bread here?’
Linda’s dark head was shaken negatively in response,
above the fair head of her sister nestling on her breast.
‘You couldn’t get me some bread?’ insisted Decoud. The
child did not move; he saw her large eyes stare at him very
dark from the corner. ‘You’re not afraid of me?’ he said.
‘No,’ said Linda, ‘we are not afraid of you. You came here
with Gian’ Battista.’
‘You mean Nostromo?’ said Decoud.
‘The English call him so, but that is no name either for

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard