Page 617 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

He stood there, rugged and unstirring, like a statue of an
old man guarding the honour of his house. Linda removed
her trembling hand from his arm, firm and steady like an
arm of stone, and, without a word, entered the blackness of
the shade. She saw a stir of formless shapes on the ground,
and stopped short. A murmur of despair and tears grew
louder to her strained hearing.
‘I entreated you not to come to-night. Oh, my Giovanni!
And you promised. Oh! Why—why did you come, Giovan-
ni?’
It was her sister’s voice. It broke on a heartrending sob.
And the voice of the resourceful Capataz de Cargadores,
master and slave of the San Tome treasure, who had been
caught unawares by old Giorgio while stealing across the
open towards the ravine to get some more silver, answered
careless and cool, but sounding startlingly weak from the
ground.
‘It seemed as though I could not live through the night
without seeing thee once more—my star, my little flower.’
*****
The brilliant tertulia was just over, the last guests had de-
parted, and the Senor Administrador had gone to his room
already, when Dr. Monygham, who had been expected in
the evening but had not turned up, arrived driving along
the wood-block pavement under the electric-lamps of the
deserted Calle de la Constitucion, and found the great gate-
way of the Casa still open.
He limped in, stumped up the stairs, and found the fat
and sleek Basilio on the point of turning off the lights in the

1 Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard