Ностромо
Chapter 13
Afteratimehejoinedherfaintlyinadeep-tonedanddistantechoofherpeals.Thenshestopped,andtheoldmanspokeasifstartled—
“HecriedoutinsonGian’Battista’svoice.”
Thegunfellfromhisopenedhand,butthearmremainedextendedforamomentasifstillsupported.Lindaseizeditroughly.
“Youaretoooldtounderstand.Comeintothehouse.”
Heletherleadhim.Onthethresholdhestumbledheavily,nearlycomingtothegroundtogetherwithhisdaughter.Hisexcitement,hisactivityofthelastfewdays,hadbeenliketheflareofadyinglamp.Hecaughtatthebackofhischair.
“InsonGian’Battista’svoice,”herepeatedinaseveretone.“Iheardhim—Ramirez—themiserable——”
Lindahelpedhimintothechair,and,bendinglow,hissedintohisear—
“YouhavekilledGian’Battista.”
Theoldmansmiledunderhisthickmoustache.Womenhadstrangefancies.
“Whereisthechild?”heasked,surprisedatthepenetratingchillinessoftheairandtheunwonteddimnessofthelampbywhichheusedtosituphalfthenightwiththeopenBiblebeforehim.
Lindahesitatedamoment,thenavertedhereyes.
“Sheisasleep,”shesaid.“Weshalltalkofhertomorrow.”
Shecouldnotbeartolookathim.Hefilledherwithterrorandwithanalmostunbearablefeelingofpity.
