Ностромо
Chapter 8
Inthefencedroadsidepaddocksloosehorsesgallopedwildlyforawhile;theheavycattlestoodupbreastdeepinthegrass,lowingmutteringlyattheflyingnoise;ameekIndianvillagerwouldglancebackonceandhastentoshovehisloadedlittledonkeybodilyagainstawall,outofthewayoftheSanTomesilverescortgoingtothesea;asmallknotofchillyleperosundertheStoneHorseoftheAlamedawouldmutter:“Caramba!”onseeingittakeawidecurveatagallopanddartintotheemptyStreetoftheConstitution;foritwasconsideredthecorrectthing,theonlyproperstylebythemule-driversoftheSanTomeminetogothroughthewakingtownfromendtoendwithoutacheckinthespeedasifchasedbyadevil.
Theearlysunshineglowedonthedelicateprimrose,palepink,palebluefrontsofthebighouseswithalltheirgatesshutyet,andnofacebehindtheironbarsofthewindows.Inthewholesunlitrangeofemptybalconiesalongthestreetonlyonewhitefigurewouldbevisiblehighupabovetheclearpavement—thewifeoftheSenorAdministrador—leaningovertoseetheescortgobytotheharbour,amassofheavy,fairhairtwistedupnegligentlyonherlittlehead,andalotoflaceabouttheneckofhermuslinwrapper.
