Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN (continued)

"Give me the book."

Linda laid on the table the closed volume in its worn leather
cover, the Bible given him ages ago by an Englishman in Palermo.

"The child had to be protected," he said, in a strange, mournful
voice.

Behind his chair Linda wrung her hands, crying without noise.
Suddenly she started for the door. He heard her move.

"Where are you going? "he asked.

"To the light," she answered, turning round to look at him
balefully.

"The light! Si--duty."

Very upright, white-haired, leonine, heroic in his absorbed
quietness, he felt in the pocket of his red shirt for the
spectacles given him by Dona Emilia. He put them on. After a long
period of immobility he opened the book, and from on high looked
through the glasses at the small print in double columns. A
rigid, stern expression settled upon his features with a slight
frown, as if in response to some gloomy thought or unpleasant
sensation. But he never detached his eyes from the book while he
swayed forward, gently, gradually, till his snow-white head
rested upon the open pages. A wooden clock ticked methodically on
the white-washed wall, and growing slowly cold the Garibaldino
lay alone, rugged, undecayed, like an old oak uprooted by a
treacherous gust of wind.

The light of the Great Isabel burned unfailing above the lost
treasure of the San Tome mine. Into the bluish sheen of a night
without stars the lantern sent out a yellow beam towards the far
horizon. Like a black speck upon the shining panes, Linda,
crouching in the outer gallery, rested her head on the rail. The
moon, drooping in the western board, looked at her radiantly.

Below, at the foot of the cliff, the regular splash of oars from
a passing boat ceased, and Dr. Monygham stood up in the stern
sheets.

"Linda!" he shouted, throwing back his head. "Linda!"