Page 604 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

‘Where is it? Where? Tell me that, Giovanni.’
He opened his mouth and remained silent—thunder-
struck.
‘Not that! Not that!’ he gasped out, appalled at the spell
of secrecy that had kept him dumb before so many people
falling upon his lips again with unimpaired force. Not even
to her. Not even to her. It was too dangerous. ‘I forbid thee
to ask,’ he cried at her, deadening cautiously the anger of
his voice.
He had not regained his freedom. The spectre of the un-
lawful treasure arose, standing by her side like a figure of
silver, pitiless and secret, with a finger on its pale lips. His
soul died within him at the vision of himself creeping in
presently along the ravine, with the smell of earth, of damp
foliage in his nostrils—creeping in, determined in a pur-
pose that numbed his breast, and creeping out again loaded
with silver, with his ears alert to every sound. It must be
done on this very night—that work of a craven slave!
He stooped low, pressed the hem of her skirt to his lips,
with a muttered command—
‘Tell him I would not stay,’ and was gone suddenly from
her, silent, without as much as a footfall in the dark night.
She sat still, her head resting indolently against the wall,
and her little feet in white stockings and black slippers
crossed over each other. Old Giorgio, coming out, did not
seem to be surprised at the intelligence as much as she had
vaguely feared. For she was full of inexplicable fear now—
fear of everything and everybody except of her Giovanni
and his treasure. But that was incredible.

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