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

his little flower.It had grown dark. From the living-room of the lightkeeper’scottage, where Giorgio, one of the ImmortalThousand, was bending his leonine and heroic head over acharcoal fire, there came the sound of sizzling and the aromaof an artistic frittura.In the obscure disarray of that thing, happening like acataclysm, it was in her feminine head that some gleam ofreason survived. He was lost to the world in their embracedstillness. But she said, whispering into his ear—‘God of mercy! What will become of me—here—now—between this sky and this water I hate? Linda, Linda—I seeher!’ … She tried to get out of his arms, suddenly relaxedat the sound of that name. But there was no one approachingtheir black shapes, enlaced and struggling on the whitebackground of the wall. ‘Linda! Poor Linda! I tremble! Ishall die of fear before my poor sister Linda, betrothed todayto Giovanni—my lover! Giovanni, you must have beenmad! I cannot understand you! You are not like other men!I will not give you up—never—only to God himself! Butwhy have you done this blind, mad, cruel, frightful thing?’Released, she hung her head, let fall her hands. The altarcloth,as if tossed by a great wind, lay far away from them,gleaming white on the black ground.‘From fear of losing my hope of you,’ said Nostromo.‘You knew that you had my soul! You know everything!It was made for you! But what could stand between you andme? What? Tell me!’ she repeated, without impatience, insuperb assurance.