early morning, he watched the stone-masons
go off to the Great Isabel, in lighters loaded with squared blocks of
stone, enough to add another course to the squat light-tower. That was
the rate of the work. One course per day.

And Captain Fidanza meditated. The presence of strangers on the island
would cut him completely off the treasure. It had been difficult and
dangerous enough before. He was afraid, and he was angry. He thought
with the resolution of a master and the cunning of a cowed slave. Then
he went ashore.

He was a man of resource and ingenuity; and, as usual, the expedient he
found at a critical moment was effective enough to alter the situation
radically. He had the gift of evolving safety out of the very danger,
this incomparable Nostromo, this "fellow in a thousand." With Giorgio
established on the Great Isabel, there would be no need for concealment.
He would be able to go openly, in daylight, to see his daughters--one of
his daughters--and stay late talking to the old Garibaldino. Then in the
dark . . . Night after night . . . He would dare to grow rich quicker
now. He yearned to clasp, embrace, absorb, subjugate in unquestioned
possession this treasure, whose tyranny had weighed upon his mind, his
actions, his very sleep.

He went to see his friend Captain Mitchell--and the thing was done as
Dr. Monygham had related to Mrs. Gould. When the project was mooted to
the Garibaldino, something like the faint reflection, the dim ghost of a
very ancient smile, stole under the white and enormous moustaches of the
old hater of kings and ministers. His daughters were the object of his
anxious care. The younger, especially. Linda, with her mother's voice,
had taken more her mother's place. Her deep, vibrating "Eh, Padre?"
seemed, but for the change of the word, the very echo of the
impassioned, remonstrating "Eh, Giorgio?" of poor Signora Teresa. It was
his fixed opinion that the town was no proper place for his girls.
The infatuated but guileless Ramirez was the object of his profound
aversion, as resuming the sins of the country whose people were blind,
vile esclavos.

On his return from his next voyage, Captain Fidanza found the Violas
settled in the light-keeper's cottage. His knowledge of Giorgio's
idiosyncrasies had not played him false. The Garibaldino had refused
to entertain the idea of any companion whatever, except his girls.
And Captain Mitchell, anxious to please his poor Nostromo, with that
fel