Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART FIRST: THE SILVER OF THE MINE 8. CHAPTER EIGHT (continued)

"For as long as you like."

"Bene. Then the place must be named, It was not worth while
before."

He smiled ruggedly, with a running together of wrinkles at the
corners of his eyes. "I shall set about the painting of the name
to-morrow."

"And what is it going to be, Giorgio?"

"Albergo d'Italia Una," said the old Garibaldino, looking away
for a moment. "More in memory of those who have died," he added,
"than for the country stolen from us soldiers of liberty by the
craft of that accursed Piedmontese race of kings and ministers."

Mrs. Gould smiled slightly, and, bending over a little, began to
inquire about his wife and children. He had sent them into town
on that day. The padrona was better in health; many thanks to the
signora for inquiring.

People were passing in twos and threes, in whole parties of men
and women attended by trotting children. A horseman mounted on a
silver-grey mare drew rein quietly in the shade of the house
after taking off his hat to the party in the carriage, who
returned smiles and familiar nods. Old Viola, evidently very
pleased with the news he had just heard, interrupted himself for
a moment to tell him rapidly that the house was secured, by the
kindness of the English signora, for as long as he liked to keep
it. The other listened attentively, but made no response.

When the carriage moved on he took off his hat again, a grey
sombrero with a silver cord and tassels. The bright colours of a
Mexican serape twisted on the cantle, the enormous silver buttons
on the embroidered leather jacket, the row of tiny silver buttons
down the seam of the trousers, the snowy linen, a silk sash with
embroidered ends, the silver plates on headstall and saddle,
proclaimed the unapproachable style of the famous Capataz de
Cargadores--a Mediterranean sailor--got up with more finished
splendour than any well-to-do young ranchero of the Campo had
ever displayed on a high holiday.