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Chapter 9

           Whenitceasedtheearthenwarefilterinthecornerofthekitchenkeptonitsswiftmusicaldrip,dripintothegreatporousjarbelow.

           Towardssunsethegotup,andwithslowmovementsdisappearedupthenarrowstaircase.Hisbulkfilledit;andtherubbingofhisshouldersmadeasmallnoiseasofamouserunningbehindtheplasterofawall.Whileheremaineduptherethehousewasasdumbasagrave.Then,withthesamefaintrubbingnoise,hedescended.Hehadtocatchatthechairsandtablestoregainhisseat.Heseizedhispipeoffthehighmantelofthefire-placebutmadenoattempttoreachthetobaccothrustitemptyintothecornerofhismouth,andsatdownagaininthesamestaringpose.ThesunofPedrito’sentryintoSulaco,thelastsunofSenorHirsch’slife,thefirstofDecoud’ssolitudeontheGreatIsabel,passedovertheAlbergod’ltaliaUnaonitswaytothewest.Thetinklingdrip,dripofthefilterhadceased,thelampupstairshadburntitselfout,andthenightbesetGiorgioViolaandhisdeadwifewithitsobscurityandsilencethatseemedinvincibletilltheCapatazdeCargadores,returningfromthedead,putthemtoflightwiththesplutterandflareofamatch.

           “Si,viejo.Itisme.Wait.”

           Nostromo,afterbarricadingthedoorandclosingtheshutterscarefully,gropeduponashelfforacandle,andlitit.

           OldViolahadrisen.HefollowedwithhiseyesinthedarkthesoundsmadebyNostromo.

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