PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE
13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
(continued)
With a measured swish of her long train, flashing with jewels and
the shimmer of silk, her delicate head bowed as if under the
weight of a mass of fair hair, in which the silver threads were
lost, the "first lady of Sulaco," as Captain Mitchell used to
describe her, moved along the lighted corredor, wealthy beyond
great dreams of wealth, considered, loved, respected, honoured,
and as solitary as any human being had ever been, perhaps, on
this earth.
The doctor's "Mrs. Gould! One minute!" stopped her with a start
at the door of the lighted and empty sala. From the similarity of
mood and circumstance, the sight of the doctor, standing there
all alone amongst the groups of furniture, recalled to her
emotional memory her unexpected meeting with Martin Decoud; she
seemed to hear in the silence the voice of that man, dead
miserably so many years ago, pronounce the words, "Antonia left
her fan here." But it was the doctor's voice that spoke, a little
altered by his excitement. She remarked his shining eyes.
"Mrs. Gould, you are wanted. Do you know what has happened? You
remember what I told you yesterday about Nostromo. Well, it seems
that a lancha, a decked boat, coming from Zapiga, with four
negroes in her, passing close to the Great Isabel, was hailed
from the cliff by a woman's voice--Linda's, as a matter of
fact--commanding them (it's a moonlight night) to go round to the
beach and take up a wounded man to the town. The patron (from
whom I've heard all this), of course, did so at once. He told me
that when they got round to the low side of the Great Isabel,
they found Linda Viola waiting for them. They followed her: she
led them under a tree not far from the cottage. There they found
Nostromo lying on the ground with his head in the younger girl's
lap, and father Viola standing some distance off leaning on his
gun. Under Linda's direction they got a table out of the cottage
for a stretcher, after breaking off the legs. They are here, Mrs.
Gould. I mean Nostromo and--and Giselle. The negroes brought him
in to the first-aid hospital near the harbour. He made the
attendant send for me. But it was not me he wanted to see--it was
you, Mrs. Gould! It was you."
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