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Chapter 3

           Intheintervalsthesingleshotsrangfeebly,andthelow,long,whitebuildingblindedineverywindowseemedtobethecentreofaturmoilwideninginagreatcircleaboutitsclosed-upsilence.Butthecautiousmovementsandwhispersofaroutedpartyseekingamomentaryshelterbehindthewallmadethedarknessoftheroom,stripedbythreadsofquietsunlight,alightwithevil,stealthysounds.TheViolashadthemintheirearsasthoughinvisibleghostshoveringabouttheirchairshadconsultedinmuttersastotheadvisabilityofsettingfiretothisforeigner’scasa.

           Itwastryingtothenerves.OldViolahadrisenslowly,guninhand,irresolute,forhedidnotseehowhecouldpreventthem.Alreadyvoicescouldbeheardtalkingattheback.SignoraTeresawasbesideherselfwithterror.

           “Ah!thetraitor!thetraitor!”shemumbled,almostinaudibly.“Nowwearegoingtobeburnt;andIbentmykneetohim.No!hemustrunattheheelsofhisEnglish.”

           SheseemedtothinkthatNostromo’smerepresenceinthehousewouldhavemadeitperfectlysafe.Sofar,she,too,wasunderthespellofthatreputationtheCapatazdeCargadoreshadmadeforhimselfbythewaterside,alongtherailwayline,withtheEnglishandwiththepopulaceofSulaco.Tohisface,andevenagainstherhusband,sheinvariablyaffectedtolaughittoscorn,sometimesgood-naturedly,moreoftenwithacuriousbitterness.Butthenwomenareunreasonableintheiropinions,asGiorgiousedtoremarkcalmlyonfittingoccasions.

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