Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
He did not offer to move an inch, to advance a single step. He stood there, rugged and unstirring, like a statue of an old man guarding the honor of his house. Linda removed her trembling hand from his arm, firm and steady like an arm of stone, and, without a word, advanced into the blackness of the shade. She saw a stir of formless shapes on the ground, and stopped short. A murmur of despair and tears grew louder to her strained hearing.
"I entreated you not to come to-night. Oh, my Giovanni! And you promised. Oh! Why why did you come, Giovanni?"
It was her sister's voice. It broke on a sob. And the voice of the resourceful capataz de cargadores, master and slave of the San Tome" treasure, who had been caught unawares by old Giorgio while stealing across the open towards the ravine to get some more silver, answered, careless and cool, but sounding startlingly weak from the ground:
"It seemed as though I could not live through the night without seeing thee once more my star, my little flower."
The brilliant tertulia was just over, the last guests
had depart oil, and the Señor Administrador had gone
to his room already, when Dr. Monygham, who had
been expected in the evening but had not turned up,
arrived, driving along the wood-Mock pavement under
the electric-lamps of the deserted Calle de la Constitucion and found the great gateway of the casa still open.
He limped in, stumped up the stairs, and found the
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