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

swift musical drip, drip into the great porous jar below.Towards sunset he got up, and with slow movements disappearedup the narrow staircase. His bulk filled it; and therubbing of his shoulders made a small noise as of a mouserunning behind the plaster of a wall. While he remainedup there the house was as dumb as a grave. Then, with thesame faint rubbing noise, he descended. He had to catch atthe chairs and tables to regain his seat. He seized his pipeoff the high mantel of the fire-place—but made no attemptto reach the tobacco—thrust it empty into the corner ofhis mouth, and sat down again in the same staring pose.The sun of Pedrito’s entry into Sulaco, the last sun of SenorHirsch’s life, the first of Decoud’s solitude on the GreatIsabel, passed over the Albergo d’ltalia Una on its way tothe west. The tinkling drip, drip of the filter had ceased, thelamp upstairs had burnt itself out, and the night beset GiorgioViola and his dead wife with its obscurity and silencethat seemed invincible till the Capataz de Cargadores, returningfrom the dead, put them to flight with the splutterand flare of a match.‘Si, viejo. It is me. Wait.’Nostromo, after barricading the door and closing theshutters carefully, groped upon a shelf for a candle, and litit.Old Viola had risen. He followed with his eyes in thedark the sounds made by Nostromo. The light disclosedhim standing without support, as if the mere presence ofthat man who was loyal, brave, incorruptible, who was allhis son would have been, were enough for the support of his