Page 597 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

this tedious island. I could hate you, Gian’ Battista!’
He laughed loudly. Her voice enveloped him like a ca-
ress. She bemoaned her fate, spreading unconsciously, like a
flower its perfume in the coolness of the evening, the inde-
finable seduction of her person. Was it her fault that nobody
ever had admired Linda? Even when they were little, going
out with their mother to Mass, she remembered that people
took no notice of Linda, who was fearless, and chose instead
to frighten her, who was timid, with their attention. It was
her hair like gold, she supposed.
He broke out—
‘Your hair like gold, and your eyes like violets, and your
lips like the rose; your round arms, your white throat.’ …
Imperturbable in the indolence of her pose, she blushed
deeply all over to the roots of her hair. She was not conceit-
ed. She was no more self-conscious than a flower. But she
was pleased. And perhaps even a flower loves to hear itself
praised. He glanced down, and added, impetuously—
‘Your little feet!’
Leaning back against the rough stone wall of the cottage,
she seemed to bask languidly in the warmth of the rosy
flush. Only her lowered eyes glanced at her little feet.
‘And so you are going at last to marry our Linda. She is
terrible. Ah! now she will understand better since you have
told her you love her. She will not be so fierce.’
‘Chica!’ said Nostromo, ‘I have not told her anything.’
‘Then make haste. Come to-morrow. Come and tell her,
so that I may have some peace from her scolding and—per-
haps—who knows …’

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard