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

CHAPTER THREEIT MIGHT have been said that there he was only protectinghis own. From the first he had been admitted to live in theintimacy of the family of the hotel-keeper who was a countrymanof his. Old Giorgio Viola, a Genoese with a shaggywhite leonine head—often called simply ‘the Garibaldino’(as Mohammedans are called after their prophet)—was, touse Captain Mitchell’s own words, the ‘respectable marriedfriend’ by whose advice Nostromo had left his ship to try fora run of shore luck in Costaguana.The old man, full of scorn for the populace, as your austererepublican so often is, had disregarded the preliminarysounds of trouble. He went on that day as usual potteringabout the ‘casa’ in his slippers, muttering angrily to himselfhis contempt of the non-political nature of the riot, andshrugging his shoulders. In the end he was taken unawaresby the out-rush of the rabble. It was too late then to removehis family, and, indeed, where could he have run to with theportly Signora Teresa and two little girls on that great plain?So, barricading every opening, the old man sat down sternlyin the middle of the darkened cafe with an old shot-gunon his knees. His wife sat on another chair by his side, mutteringpious invocations to all the saints of the calendar.The old republican did not believe in saints, or in prayers,or in what he called ‘priest’s religion.’ Liberty and Garibaldi