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- Джозеф Конрад
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"
What
folly
!
"
answered
the
other
,
and
in
a
perversity
born
of
long
restraint
,
she
added
:
"
He
is
not
the
man
,
"
in
a
jesting
tone
with
a
trembling
audacity
.
"
No
?
"
said
Linda
,
through
her
clenched
teeth
.
"
Is
he
not
?
Well
,
then
,
look
to
it
;
because
father
has
been
walking
about
with
a
loaded
gun
at
night
.
"
"
It
is
not
good
for
him
.
You
must
tell
him
not
to
,
Linda
.
He
will
not
listen
to
me
.
"
"
I
shall
say
nothing
--
never
any
more
--
to
anybody
,
"
cried
Linda
,
passionately
.
This
could
not
last
,
thought
Giselle
.
Giovanni
must
take
her
away
soon
--
the
very
next
time
he
came
.
She
would
not
suffer
these
terrors
for
ever
so
much
silver
.
To
speak
with
her
sister
made
her
ill
.
But
she
was
not
uneasy
at
her
father
's
watchfulness
.
She
had
begged
Nostromo
not
to
come
to
the
window
that
night
.
He
had
promised
to
keep
away
for
this
once
.
And
she
did
not
know
,
could
not
guess
or
imagine
,
that
he
had
another
reason
for
coming
on
the
island
.
Linda
had
gone
straight
to
the
tower
.
It
was
time
to
light
up
.
She
unlocked
the
little
door
,
and
went
heavily
up
the
spiral
staircase
,
carrying
her
love
for
the
magnificent
Capataz
de
Cargadores
like
an
ever-increasing
load
of
shameful
fetters
.
No
;
she
could
not
throw
it
off
.
No
;
let
Heaven
dispose
of
these
two
.
And
moving
about
the
lantern
,
filled
with
twilight
and
the
sheen
of
the
moon
,
with
careful
movements
she
lighted
the
lamp
.
Then
her
arms
fell
along
her
body
.
"
And
with
our
mother
looking
on
,
"
she
murmured
.
"
My
own
sister
--
the
Chica
!
"
The
whole
refracting
apparatus
,
with
its
brass
fittings
and
rings
of
prisms
,
glittered
and
sparkled
like
a
domeshaped
shrine
of
diamonds
,
containing
not
a
lamp
,
but
some
sacred
flame
,
dominating
the
sea
.
And
Linda
,
the
keeper
,
in
black
,
with
a
pale
face
,
drooped
low
in
a
wooden
chair
,
alone
with
her
jealousy
,
far
above
the
shames
and
passions
of
the
earth
.
A
strange
,
dragging
pain
as
if
somebody
were
pulling
her
about
brutally
by
her
dark
hair
with
bronze
glints
,
made
her
put
her
hands
up
to
her
temples
.
They
would
meet
.
They
would
meet
.
And
she
knew
where
,
too
.
At
the
window
.
The
sweat
of
torture
fell
in
drops
on
her
cheeks
,
while
the
moonlight
in
the
offing
closed
as
if
with
a
colossal
bar
of
silver
the
entrance
of
the
Placid
Gulf
--
the
sombre
cavern
of
clouds
and
stillness
in
the
surf-fretted
seaboard
.
