Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

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

"No," said Nostromo, looking into her uplifted, begging eyes,
which suddenly turned stony with surprise.

"No? Then what else will your worship give me on the day of the
fiesta?" she asked, angrily; "so as not to shame me before all
these people."

"There is no shame for thee in getting nothing from thy lover for
once."

"True! The shame is your worship's--my poor lover's," she flared
up, sarcastically.

Laughs were heard at her anger, at her retort. What an audacious
spitfire she was! The people aware of this scene were calling out
urgently to others in the crowd. The circle round the silver-grey
mare narrowed slowly.

The girl went off a pace or two, confronting the mocking
curiosity of the eyes, then flung back to the stirrup, tiptoeing,
her enraged face turned up to Nostromo with a pair of blazing
eyes. He bent low to her in the saddle.

"Juan," she hissed, "I could stab thee to the heart!"

The dreaded Capataz de Cargadores, magnificent and carelessly
public in his amours, flung his arm round her neck and kissed her
spluttering lips. A murmur went round.

"A knife!" he demanded at large, holding her firmly by the
shoulder.

Twenty blades flashed out together in the circle. A young man in
holiday attire, bounding in, thrust one in Nostromo's hand and
bounded back into the ranks, very proud of himself. Nostromo had
not even looked at him.

"Stand on my foot," he commanded the girl, who, suddenly subdued,
rose lightly, and when he had her up, encircling her waist, her
face near to his, he pressed the knife into her little hand.

"No, Morenita! You shall not put me to shame," he said. "You
shall have your present; and so that everyone should know who is
your lover to-day, you may cut all the silver buttons off my
coat."