Ностромо

           ”

           DonJoseAvellanoswouldmutter“Imperiuminimperio,Emilia,mysoul,”withanairofprofoundself-satisfactionwhich,somehow,inacuriousway,seemedtocontainaqueeradmixtureofbodilydiscomfort.Butthat,perhaps,couldonlybevisibletotheinitiated.Andfortheinitiateditwasawonderfulplace,thisdrawing-roomoftheCasaGould,withitsmomentaryglimpsesofthemaster—ElSenorAdministrador—older,harder,mysteriouslysilent,withthelinesdeepenedonhisEnglish,ruddy,out-of-doorscomplexion;flittingonhisthincavalryman’slegsacrossthedoorways,eitherjust“backfromthemountain”orwithjinglingspursandriding-whipunderhisarm,onthepointofstarting“forthemountain.