It's very possible. He honours me with his undying dislike. And a word from the great Fidanza may be quite enough to send some fool's knife into my back. The Sanitary Commission I preside over is not in favour with the populace. "Beware of him, Senor Doctor. Destroy him, Senor Doctor," Ramirez hissed right into my face. And then he broke out. "That man," he spluttered, "has cast a spell upon both these girls." As to himself, he had said too much. He must run away now -- run away and hide somewhere. He moaned tenderly about Giselle, and then called her names that cannot be repeated. If he thought she could be made to love him by any means, he would carry her off from the island. Off into the woods. But it was no good . . . He strode away, flourishing his arms above his head. Then I noticed an old Negro, who had been sitting behind a pile of cases, fishing from the wharf. He wound up his lines and slunk away at once. But he must have heard something, and must have talked, too, because some of the old Garibaldino's railway friends, I suppose, warned him against Ramirez. At any rate, the father had been warned. But Ramirez has disappeared from the town.'
`I feel I have a duty towards these girls,' said Mrs Gould, uneasily.
`Is Nostromo in Sulaco now?'
`He is, since last Sunday.'
`He ought to be spoken to -- at once.'
`Who will dare speak to him? Even the love-mad Ramirez runs away from the mere shadow of Captain Fidanza.'
`I can. I will,' Mrs Gould declared. `A word will be enough for a man like Nostromo.'
The doctor smiled sourly.
`He must end this situation which lends itself to -- I can't believe it of that child,' pursued Mrs Gould.
`He's very attractive,' muttered the doctor, gloomily.
`He'll see it, I am sure. He must put an end to all this by marrying Linda at once,' pronounced the first lady of Sulaco with immense decision.
Through the garden gate emerged Basilio, grown fat and sleek, with an elderly hairless face, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his jet-black, coarse hair plastered down smoothly. Stooping carefully behind an ornamental clump of bushes, he put down with precaution a small child he had been carrying on his shoulder -- his own and Leonarda's last born. The pouting, spoiled camerista and the head mozo of the Casa Gould had been married for some years now.
He remained squatting on his heels for a time, gazing fondly at his offspring, which returned his stare with imperturbable gravity; then, solemn and respectable, walked down the path.
`What is it, Basilio?' asked Mrs Gould.
`A telephone call came through from the office of the mine. The master remains to sleep at the mountain tonight.'
Dr Monygham had got up and stood looking away. A profound silence reigned for a time under the shade of the biggest trees in the lovely gardens of the Casa Gould.
`Very well, Basilio,' said Mrs Gould. She watched him walk away along the path, step aside behind the flowering bush, and reappear with the child seated on his shoulder. He passed through the gateway between the garden and the patio with measured steps, careful of his light burden.
The doctor, with his back to Mrs Gould, contemplated a flower-bed away in the sunshine. People believed him scornful and soured. The truth of his nature consisted in his capacity for passion and in the sensitiveness of his temperament. What he lacked was the polished callousness of men of the world, the callousness from which springs an easy tolerance for oneself and others; the tolerance wide as poles asunder from true sympathy and human compassion. This want of callousness accounted for his sardonic turn of mind and his biting speeches.
