Ностромо
Chapter 9
Whenitceasedtheearthenwarefilterinthecornerofthekitchenkeptonitsswiftmusicaldrip,dripintothegreatporousjarbelow.
Towardssunsethegotup,andwithslowmovementsdisappearedupthenarrowstaircase.Hisbulkfilledit;andtherubbingofhisshouldersmadeasmallnoiseasofamouserunningbehindtheplasterofawall.Whileheremaineduptherethehousewasasdumbasagrave.Then,withthesamefaintrubbingnoise,hedescended.Hehadtocatchatthechairsandtablestoregainhisseat.Heseizedhispipeoffthehighmantelofthefire-place—butmadenoattempttoreachthetobacco—thrustitemptyintothecornerofhismouth,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.
