Complete Works

courtyard.  To the left, from the cooking shed, shone a red glare through the banana plantation she skirted, and the noise of feminine laughter reached her from there in the silent evening.  She rightly judged her mother was not near, laughter and Mrs. Almayer not being close neighbours.  She must be in the house, thought Nina, as she ran lightly up the inclined plane of shaky planks leading to the back door of the narrow passage dividing the house in two.  Outside the doorway, in the black shadow, stood the faithful Ali.
    “Who is there?” asked Nina.
    “A great Malay man has come,” answered Ali, in a tone of suppressed excitement.  “He is a rich man.  There are six men with lances.  Real Soldat, you understand.  And his dress is very brave.  I have seen his dress.  It shines!  What jewels!  Don’t go there, Mem Nina.  Tuan said not; but the old Mem is gone.  Tuan will be angry.  Merciful Allah! what jewels that man has got!”
    Nina slipped past the outstretched hand of the slave into the dark passage where, in the crimson glow of the hanging curtain, close by its other end, she could see a small dark form crouching near the wall.  Her mother was feasting her eyes and ears with what was taking place on the front verandah, and Nina approached to take her share in the rare pleasure of some novelty.  She was met by her mother’s extended arm and by a low murmured warning not to make a noise.
    “Have you seen them, mother?” asked Nina, in a breathless whisper.
    Mrs. Almayer turned her face towards the girl, and her sunken eyes shone strangely in the red half-light of the passage.
    “I saw him,” she said, in an almost inaudible tone, pressing her daughter’s hand with her bony fingers.  “A great Rajah has come to Sambir — a Son of Heaven,” muttered the old woman to herself.  “Go away, girl!”
    The two women stood close to the curtain, Nina wishing to approach the rent in the stuff, and her mother defending the position with angry obstinacy.  On the other side there was a lull in the conversation, but the breathing of several men, the occasional light tinkling of some ornaments, the clink of metal scabbards, or of brass siri-vessels passed from hand to hand, was audible during the short pause.  The women struggled silently, when there was a shuffling noise and the shadow of Almayer’s burly form fell on the curtain.
    The women ceased struggling and remained motionless.  Almayer had stood up to answer his guest, turning his back to the doorway, unaware of what was going on on the other side.  He spoke in a tone of regretful irritation.
    “You have come to the wrong house, Tuan Maroola, if you want to trade as you say.  I was a trader once, not now, whatever you may have heard about me in Macassar.  And if you want anything, you will not find it here; I have nothing to give, and want nothing myself.  You should go to the Rajah here; you can see in the daytime his houses across the river, there, where those fires are burning on the shore.  He will help you and trade with you.  Or, better still, go to the Arabs over there,” he went on bitterly, pointing with his hand towards the houses of Sambir.  “Abdulla is the man you want.  There is nothing he would not buy, and there is nothing he would not sell; believe me, I know him well.”
    He waited for an answer a short time, then added —
    “All that I have said is true, and there is nothing more.”
    Nina, held back by her mother, heard a soft voice reply with a calm evenness of intonation peculiar to the better class Malays —
    “Who would doubt a white Tuan’s words?  A man seeks his friends where his heart tells him.  Is this not true also?  I have come, although so late, for I have something to say which you may be glad to hear.  To-morrow I will go to the Sultan; a trader wants the friendship of great men.  Then I shall return here to speak serious words, if Tuan permits.  I shall not go to the Arabs; their lies are very great!  What are they?  Chelakka!”
    Almayer’s voice sounded a little more pleasantly in reply.
    “Well, as you like.  I can hear you to-morrow at any time if you have anything to say.  Bah!  After you have seen the Sultan Lakamba you will not want to return here, Inchi Dain.  You will see.  Only mind, I will have nothing to do with Lakamba.  You may tell him so.  What is your business with me, after all?”
    “To-morrow we talk, Tuan, now I know you,” answered the