Nostromo - A Tale of the Seaboard.pdf - Planet eBook

Since he had heard the name of Montero pronounced,young Scarfe had been eager to express his simple feelings.In a loud and youthful tone he hoped that this Montero wasgoing to be licked once for all and done with. There was nosaying what would happen to the railway if the revolutiongot the upper hand. Perhaps it would have to be abandoned.It would not be the first railway gone to pot in Costaguana.‘You know, it’s one of their so-called national things,’he ran on, wrinkling up his nose as if the word had a suspiciousflavour to his profound experience of South Americanaffairs. And, of course, he chatted with animation, it hadbeen such an immense piece of luck for him at his age toget appointed on the staff ‘of a big thing like that—don’tyou know.’ It would give him the pull over a lot of chaps allthrough life, he asserted. ‘Therefore—down with Montero!Mrs. Gould.’ His artless grin disappeared slowly before theunanimous gravity of the faces turned upon him from thecarriage; only that ‘old chap,’ Don Jose, presenting a motionless,waxy profile, stared straight on as if deaf. Scarfedid not know the Avellanos very well. They did not giveballs, and Antonia never appeared at a ground-floor window,as some other young ladies used to do attended byelder women, to chat with the caballeros on horseback inthe Calle. The stares of these creoles did not matter much;but what on earth had come to Mrs. Gould? She said, ‘Goon, Ignacio,’ and gave him a slow inclination of the head.He heard a short laugh from that round-faced, Frenchifiedfellow. He coloured up to the eyes, and stared at Giorgio Viola,who had fallen back with the children, hat in hand.