Ностромо

           Lindalongedtotalk.Shesaidinherarbitraryvoice,“Giselle!”andwasnotansweredbytheslightestmovement.

           Thegirlthatwasgoingtoliveinapalaceandwalkongroundofherownwasreadytodiewithterror.Notforanythingintheworldwouldshehaveturnedherheadtofacehersister.Herheartwasbeatingmadly.Shesaidwithsubduedhaste—

           “Donotspeaktome.Iampraying.”

           Linda,disappointed,wentoutquietly;andGisellesatonunbelieving,lost,dazed,patient,asifwaitingfortheconfirmationoftheincredible.Thehopelessblacknessofthecloudsseemedpartofadream,too.Shewaited.

           Shedidnotwaitinvain.Themanwhosesoulwasdeadwithinhim,creepingoutoftheravine,weightedwithsilver,hadseenthegleamofthelightedwindow,andcouldnothelpretracinghisstepsfromthebeach.

           Onthatimpenetrablebackground,obliteratingtheloftymountainsbytheseaboard,shesawtheslaveoftheSanTomesilver,asifbyanextraordinarypowerofamiracle.Sheacceptedhisreturnasifhenceforththeworldcouldholdnosurpriseforalleternity.

           Sherose,compelledandrigid,andbegantospeaklongbeforethelightfromwithinfelluponthefaceoftheapproachingman.

           “Youhavecomebacktocarrymeoff.Itiswell!Openthyarms,Giovanni,mylover.Iamcoming