Ностромо
Chapter 3
Histwogirls,theeldestfourteen,andtheothertwoyearsyounger,crouchedonthesandedfloor,oneachsideoftheSignoraTeresa,withtheirheadsontheirmother’slap,bothscared,buteachinherownway,thedark-hairedLindaindignantandangry,thefairGiselle,theyounger,bewilderedandresigned.ThePatronaremovedherarms,whichembracedherdaughters,foramomenttocrossherselfandwringherhandshurriedly.Shemoanedalittlelouder.
“Oh!Gian’Battista,whyartthounothere?Oh!whyartthounothere?”
Shewasnottheninvokingthesainthimself,butcallinguponNostromo,whosepatronhewas.AndGiorgio,motionlessonthechairbyherside,wouldbeprovokedbythesereproachfulanddistractedappeals.
“Peace,woman!Where’sthesenseofit?There’shisduty,”hemurmuredinthedark;andshewouldretort,panting—
“Eh!Ihavenopatience.Duty!Whatofthewomanwhohasbeenlikeamothertohim?Ibentmykneetohimthismorning;don’tyougoout,Gian’Battista—stopinthehouse,Battistino—lookatthosetwolittleinnocentchildren!”
Mrs.ViolawasanItalian,too,anativeofSpezzia,andthoughconsiderablyyoungerthanherhusband,alreadymiddle-aged.Shehadahandsomeface,whosecomplexionhadturnedyellowbecausetheclimateofSulacodidnotsuitheratall.Hervoicewasarichcontralto.
