Ностромо
Chapter 8
“ThesignorajustsaidawordtotheEnglishman.”
“TheoldEnglishmanwhohasenoughmoneytopayforarailway?Heisgoingoffinanhour,”remarkedNostromo,carelessly.“Buonviaggio,then.I’veguardedhisbonesallthewayfromtheEntradapassdowntotheplainandintoSulaco,asthoughhehadbeenmyownfather.”
OldGiorgioonlymovedhisheadsidewaysabsently.NostromopointedaftertheGoulds’carriage,nearingthegrass-growngateintheoldtownwallthatwaslikeawallofmattedjungle.
“AndIhavesataloneatnightwithmyrevolverintheCompany’swarehousetimeandagainbythesideofthatotherEnglishman’sheapofsilver,guardingitasthoughithadbeenmyown.”
Violaseemedlostinthought.“Itisagreatthingforme,”herepeatedagain,asiftohimself.
“Itis,”agreedthemagnificentCapatazdeCargadores,calmly.“Listen,Vecchio—goinandbringme,outacigar,butdon’tlookforitinmyroom.There’snothingthere.”
Violasteppedintothecafeandcameoutdirectly,stillabsorbedinhisidea,andtenderedhimacigar,mumblingthoughtfullyinhismoustache,“Childrengrowingup—andgirls,too!Girls!”Hesighedandfellsilent.
“What,onlyone?”remarkedNostromo,lookingdownwithasortofcomicinquisitivenessattheunconsciousoldman.“Nomatter,”headded,withloftynegligence;“oneisenoughtillanotheriswanted.
