PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE
13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
(continued)
"Nostromo!" Mrs. Gould whispered, bending very low. "I, too, have
hated the idea of that silver from the bottom of my heart."
"Marvellous!--that one of you should hate the wealth that you
know so well how to take from the hands of the poor. The world
rests upon the poor, as old Giorgio says. You have been always
good to the poor. But there is something accursed in wealth.
Senora, shall I tell you where the treasure is? To you alone. . .
. Shining! Incorruptible!"
A pained, involuntary reluctance lingered in his tone, in his
eyes, plain to the woman with the genius of sympathetic
intuition. She averted her glance from the miserable subjection
of the dying man, appalled, wishing to hear no more of the
silver.
"No, Capataz," she said. "No one misses it now. Let it be lost
for ever."
After hearing these words, Nostromo closed his eyes, uttered no
word, made no movement. Outside the door of the sick-room Dr.
Monygham, excited to the highest pitch, his eyes shining with
eagerness, came up to the two women.
"Now, Mrs. Gould," he said, almost brutally in his impatience,
"tell me, was I right? There is a mystery. You have got the word
of it, have you not? He told you----"
"He told me nothing," said Mrs. Gould, steadily.
The light of his temperamental enmity to Nostromo went out of Dr.
Monygham's eyes. He stepped back submissively. He did not believe
Mrs. Gould. But her word was law. He accepted her denial like an
inexplicable fatality affirming the victory of Nostromo's genius
over his own. Even before that woman, whom he loved with secret
devotion, he had been defeated by the magnificent Capataz de
Cargadores, the man who had lived his own life on the assumption
of unbroken fidelity, rectitude, and courage!
"Pray send at once somebody for my carriage," spoke Mrs. Gould
from within her hood. Then, turning to Giselle Viola, "Come
nearer me, child; come closer. We will wait here."
|