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- Джозеф Конрад
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"
Where
are
you
going
,
Linda
?
"
"
To
the
light
,
padre
mio
.
"
"
Si
,
si
--
to
your
duty
.
"
He
got
up
,
too
,
looked
after
his
eldest
daughter
;
then
,
in
a
tone
whose
festive
note
seemed
the
echo
of
a
mood
lost
in
the
night
of
ages
--
"
I
am
going
in
to
cook
something
.
Aha
!
Son
!
The
old
man
knows
where
to
find
a
bottle
of
wine
,
too
.
"
He
turned
to
Giselle
,
with
a
change
to
austere
tenderness
.
"
And
you
,
little
one
,
pray
not
to
the
God
of
priests
and
slaves
,
but
to
the
God
of
orphans
,
of
the
oppressed
,
of
the
poor
,
of
little
children
,
to
give
thee
a
man
like
this
one
for
a
husband
.
"
His
hand
rested
heavily
for
a
moment
on
Nostromo
's
shoulder
;
then
he
went
in
.
The
hopeless
slave
of
the
San
Tome
silver
felt
at
these
words
the
venomous
fangs
of
jealousy
biting
deep
into
his
heart
.
He
was
appalled
by
the
novelty
of
the
experience
,
by
its
force
,
by
its
physical
intimacy
.
A
husband
!
A
husband
for
her
!
And
yet
it
was
natural
that
Giselle
should
have
a
husband
at
some
time
or
other
.
He
had
never
realized
that
before
.
In
discovering
that
her
beauty
could
belong
to
another
he
felt
as
though
he
could
kill
this
one
of
old
Giorgio
's
daughters
also
.
He
muttered
moodily
--
"
They
say
you
love
Ramirez
.
"
