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

for the glow of a heap of charcoal under the heavy mantelof the cooking-range, where water was boiling in an ironpot with a loud bubbling sound. Between the two walls of anarrow staircase a bright light streamed from the sick-roomabove; and the magnificent Capataz de Cargadores steppingnoiselessly in soft leather sandals, bushy whiskered, hismuscular neck and bronzed chest bare in the open checkshirt, resembled a Mediterranean sailor just come ashorefrom some wine or fruit-laden felucca. At the top he paused,broad shouldered, narrow hipped and supple, looking atthe large bed, like a white couch of state, with a profusionof snowy linen, amongst which the Padrona sat unproppedand bowed, her handsome, black-browed face bent over herchest. A mass of raven hair with only a few white threadsin it covered her shoulders; one thick strand fallen forwardhalf veiled her cheek. Perfectly motionless in that pose, expressingphysical anxiety and unrest, she turned her eyesalone towards Nostromo.The Capataz had a red sash wound many times round hiswaist, and a heavy silver ring on the forefinger of the handhe raised to give a twist to his moustache.‘Their revolutions, their revolutions,’ gasped Senora Teresa.‘Look, Gian’ Battista, it has killed me at last!’Nostromo said nothing, and the sick woman with an upwardglance insisted. ‘Look, this one has killed me, whileyou were away fighting for what did not concern you, foolishman.’‘Why talk like this?’ mumbled the Capataz between histeeth. ‘Will you never believe in my good sense? It concerns