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

fumes floated upwards in sunshine, a strong smell of burntonions hung in the drowsy heat, enveloping the house; andthe eye lost itself in a vast flat expanse of grass to the west,as if the plain between the Sierra overtopping Sulaco andthe coast range away there towards Esmeralda had been asbig as half the world.Signora Teresa, after an impressive pause,remonstrated—‘Eh, Giorgio! Leave Cavour alone and take care of yourselfnow we are lost in this country all alone with the twochildren, because you cannot live under a king.’And while she looked at him she would sometimes puther hand hastily to her side with a short twitch of her finelips and a knitting of her black, straight eyebrows like aflicker of angry pain or an angry thought on her handsome,regular features.It was pain; she suppressed the twinge. It had come toher first a few years after they had left Italy to emigrate toAmerica and settle at last in Sulaco after wandering fromtown to town, trying shopkeeping in a small way here andthere; and once an organized enterprise of fishing—in Maldonado—forGiorgio, like the great Garibaldi, had been asailor in his time.Sometimes she had no patience with pain. For years itsgnawing had been part of the landscape embracing the glitterof the harbour under the wooded spurs of the range; andthe sunshine itself was heavy and dull—heavy with pain—not like the sunshine of her girlhood, in which middle-agedGiorgio had wooed her gravely and passionately on the