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

fat coachman sat muffled up on the edge, holding lazily theends of halters in his hand. Barefooted servants passed toand fro, issuing from dark, low doorways below; two laundrygirls with baskets of washed linen; the baker with thetray of bread made for the day; Leonarda—her own camerista—bearinghigh up, swung from her hand raised aboveher raven black head, a bunch of starched under-skirts dazzlinglywhite in the slant of sunshine. Then the old porterwould hobble in, sweeping the flagstones, and the housewas ready for the day. All the lofty rooms on three sides ofthe quadrangle opened into each other and into the corredor,with its wrought-iron railings and a border of flowers,whence, like the lady of the mediaeval castle, she could witnessfrom above all the departures and arrivals of the Casa,to which the sonorous arched gateway lent an air of statelyimportance.She had watched her carriage roll away with the threeguests from the north. She smiled. Their three arms wentup simultaneously to their three hats. Captain Mitchell, thefourth, in attendance, had already begun a pompous discourse.Then she lingered. She lingered, approaching herface to the clusters of flowers here and there as if to givetime to her thoughts to catch up with her slow footstepsalong the straight vista of the corredor.A fringed Indian hammock from Aroa, gay with colouredfeatherwork, had been swung judiciously in a cornerthat caught the early sun; for the mornings are cool in Sulaco.The cluster of flor de noche buena blazed in great massesbefore the open glass doors of the reception rooms. A big