Page 79 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

to her, he blurted out twice, ‘I’ve come to you—I’ve come
straight to you—,’ without being able to finish his phrase,
that the great pitifulness of that lonely and tormented death
in Costaguana came to her with the full force of its mis-
ery. He caught hold of her hand, raised it to his lips, and
at that she dropped her parasol to pat him on the cheek,
murmured ‘Poor boy,’ and began to dry her eyes under the
downward curve of her hat-brim, very small in her simple,
white frock, almost like a lost child crying in the degraded
grandeur of the noble hall, while he stood by her, again per-
fectly motionless in the contemplation of the marble urn.
Afterwards they went out for a long walk, which was
silent till he exclaimed suddenly—
‘Yes. But if he had only grappled with it in a proper way!’
And then they stopped. Everywhere there were long
shadows lying on the hills, on the roads, on the enclosed
fields of olive trees; the shadows of poplars, of wide chest-
nuts, of farm buildings, of stone walls; and in mid-air the
sound of a bell, thin and alert, was like the throbbing pulse
of the sunset glow. Her lips were slightly parted as though
in surprise that he should not be looking at her with his
usual expression. His usual expression was unconditionally
approving and attentive. He was in his talks with her the
most anxious and deferential of dictators, an attitude that
pleased her immensely. It affirmed her power without de-
tracting from his dignity. That slight girl, with her little feet,
little hands, little face attractively overweighted by great
coils of hair; with a rather large mouth, whose mere part-
ing seemed to breathe upon you the fragrance of frankness

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard