Ностромо
Chapter 12
Shedroppedherlow,vibratingvoicetoastilllowernote,andfoundotherthingstosay—torturingforthemanatherside.Hermurmurranonardentandvoluble.Shedidnotseemtoseehersister,whocameoutwithanaltar-clothshewasembroideringinherhands,andpassedinfrontofthem,silent,fresh,fair,withaquickglanceandafaintsmile,tositalittleawayontheothersideofNostromo.
Theeveningwasstill.Thesunsankalmosttotheedgeofapurpleocean;andthewhitelighthouse,lividagainstthebackgroundofcloudsfillingtheheadofthegulf,borethelanternredandglowing,likealiveemberkindledbythefireofthesky.Giselle,indolentanddemure,raisedthealtar-clothfromtimetotimetohidenervousyawns,asofayoungpanther.
SuddenlyLindarushedathersister,andseizingherhead,coveredherfacewithkisses.Nostromo’sbrainreeled.Whenshelefther,asifstunnedbytheviolentcaresses,withherhandslyinginherlap,theslaveofthetreasurefeltasifhecouldshootthatwoman.OldGiorgioliftedhisleoninehead.
“Whereareyougoing,Linda?”
“Tothelight,padremio.”
“Si,si—toyourduty.”
Hegotup,too,lookedafterhiseldestdaughter;then,inatonewhosefestivenoteseemedtheechoofamoodlostinthenightofages—
“Iamgoingintocooksomething.Aha!Son!Theoldmanknowswheretofindabottleofwine,too.
