Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

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

"It is a great thing for me," murmured old Giorgio, still
thinking of the house, for now he had grown weary of change. "The
signora just said a word to the Englishman."

"The old Englishman who has enough money to pay for a railway? He
is going off in an hour," remarked Nostromo, carelessly. "Buon
viaggio, then. I've guarded his bones all the way from the
Entrada pass down to the plain and into Sulaco, as though he had
been my own father."

Old Giorgio only moved his head sideways absently. Nostromo
pointed after the Goulds' carriage, nearing the grass-grown gate
in the old town wall that was like a wall of matted jungle.

"And I have sat alone at night with my revolver in the Company's
warehouse time and again by the side of that other Englishman's
heap of silver, guarding it as though it had been my own."

Viola seemed lost in thought. "It is a great thing for me," he
repeated again, as if to himself.

"It is," agreed the magnificent Capataz de Cargadores, calmly.
"Listen, Vecchio--go in and bring me, out a cigar, but don't look
for it in my room. There's nothing there."

Viola stepped into the cafe and came out directly, still absorbed
in his idea, and tendered him a cigar, mumbling thoughtfully in
his moustache, "Children growing up--and girls, too! Girls!" He
sighed and fell silent.

"What, only one?" remarked Nostromo, looking down with a sort of
comic inquisitiveness at the unconscious old man. "No matter," he
added, with lofty negligence; "one is enough till another is
wanted."

He lit it and let the match drop from his passive fingers.
Giorgio Viola looked up, and said abruptly--

"My son would have been just such a fine young man as you, Gian'
Battista, if he had lived."

"What? Your son? But you are right, padrone. If he had been like
me he would have been a man."