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

the island with his old gun, on watch over his honour.Linda, laying her thin brown hand on his knee, tried tosoothe his excitement. Ramirez was not in Sulaco. Nobodyknew where he was. He was gone. His talk of what he woulddo meant nothing.‘No,’ the old man interrupted. ‘But son Gian’ Battista toldme—quite of himself—that the cowardly esclavo was drinkingand gambling with the rascals of Zapiga, over there onthe north side of the gulf. He may get some of the worstscoundrels of that scoundrelly town of negroes to help himin his attempt upon the little one…. But I am not so old.No!’She argued earnestly against the probability of any attemptbeing made; and at last the old man fell silent,chewing his white moustache. Women had their obstinatenotions which must be humoured—his poor wife was likethat, and Linda resembled her mother. It was not seemly fora man to argue. ‘May be. May be,’ he mumbled.She was by no means easy in her mind. She loved Nostromo.She turned her eyes upon Giselle, sitting at a distance,with something of maternal tenderness, and the jealous anguishof a rival outraged in her defeat. Then she rose andwalked over to her.‘Listen—you,’ she said, roughly.The invincible candour of the gaze, raised up all violetand dew, excited her rage and admiration. She had beautifuleyes—the Chica—this vile thing of white flesh and blackdeception. She did not know whether she wanted to tearthem out with shouts of vengeance or cover up their myste-