Ностромо
Chapter 8
“Butifyouloveherasmuchasthat,youmustgiveyourPaquitaagold-mountedrosaryofbeadsfortheneckofherMadonna.”
“No,”saidNostromo,lookingintoheruplifted,beggingeyes,whichsuddenlyturnedstonywithsurprise.
“No?Thenwhatelsewillyourworshipgivemeonthedayofthefiesta?”sheasked,angrily;“soasnottoshamemebeforeallthesepeople.”
“Thereisnoshamefortheeingettingnothingfromthyloverforonce.”
“True!Theshameisyourworship’s—mypoorlover’s,”sheflaredup,sarcastically.
Laughswereheardatheranger,atherretort.Whatanaudaciousspitfireshewas!Thepeopleawareofthisscenewerecallingouturgentlytoothersinthecrowd.Thecircleroundthesilver-greymarenarrowedslowly.
Thegirlwentoffapaceortwo,confrontingthemockingcuriosityoftheeyes,thenflungbacktothestirrup,tiptoeing,herenragedfaceturneduptoNostromowithapairofblazingeyes.Hebentlowtoherinthesaddle.
“Juan,”shehissed,“Icouldstabtheetotheheart!”
ThedreadedCapatazdeCargadores,magnificentandcarelesslypublicinhisamours,flunghisarmroundherneckandkissedhersplutteringlips.Amurmurwentround.
“Aknife!”hedemandedatlarge,holdingherfirmlybytheshoulder.
Twentybladesflashedouttogetherinthecircle.
