Complete Works

stammered, confused.
    “There might have been more,” interrupted Nina.  “And when you get this — this scoundrel will you go?”
    The lieutenant, still speechless, bowed his assent.
    “Then I would get him for you if I had to seek him in a burning fire,” she burst out with intense energy.  “I hate the sight of your white faces.  I hate the sound of your gentle voices.  That is the way you speak to women, dropping sweet words before any pretty face.  I have heard your voices before.  I hoped to live here without seeing any other white face but this,” she added in a gentler tone, touching lightly her father’s cheek.
    Almayer ceased his mumbling and opened his eyes.  He caught hold of his daughter’s hand and pressed it to his face, while Nina with the other hand smoothed his rumpled grey hair, looking defiantly over her father’s head at the officer, who had now regained his composure and returned her look with a cool, steady stare.  Below, in front of the verandah, they could hear the tramp of seamen mustering there according to orders.  The sub-lieutenant came up the steps, while Babalatchi stood up uneasily and, with finger on lip, tried to catch Nina’s eye.
    “You are a good girl,” whispered Almayer, absently, dropping his daughter’s hand.
    “Father! father!” she cried, bending over him with passionate entreaty.  “See those two men looking at us.  Send them away.  I cannot bear it any more.  Send them away.  Do what they want and let them go.”
    She caught sight of Babalatchi and ceased speaking suddenly, but her foot tapped the floor with rapid beats in a paroxysm of nervous restlessness.  The two officers stood close together looking on curiously.
    “What has happened?  What is the matter?” whispered the younger man.
    “Don’t know,” answered the other, under his breath.  “One is furious, and the other is drunk.  Not so drunk, either.  Queer, this.  Look!”
    Almayer had risen, holding on to his daughter’s arm.  He hesitated a moment, then he let go his hold and lurched half-way across the verandah.  There he pulled himself together, and stood very straight, breathing hard and glaring round angrily.
    “Are the men ready?” asked the lieutenant.
    “All ready, sir.”
    “Now, Mr. Almayer, lead the way,” said the lieutenant
    Almayer rested his eyes on him as if he saw him for the first time.
    “Two men,” he said thickly.  The effort of speaking seemed to interfere with his equilibrium.  He took a quick step to save himself from a fall, and remained swaying backwards and forwards.  “Two men,” he began again, speaking with difficulty.  “Two white men — men in uniform — honourable men.  I want to say — men of honour.  Are you?”
    “Come!  None of that,” said the officer impatiently.  “Let us have that friend of yours.”
    “What do you think I am?” asked Almayer, fiercely.
    “You are drunk, but not so drunk as not to know what you are doing.  Enough of this tomfoolery,” said the officer sternly, “or I will have you put under arrest in your own house.”
    “Arrest!” laughed Almayer, discordantly.  “Ha! ha! ha!  Arrest!  Why, I have been trying to get out of this infernal place for twenty years, and I can’t.  You hear, man!  I can’t, and never shall!  Never!”
    He ended his words with a sob, and walked unsteadily down the stairs.  When in the courtyard the lieutenant approached him, and took him by the arm.  The sub-lieutenant and Babalatchi followed close.
    “That’s better, Almayer,” said the officer encouragingly.  “Where are you going to?  There are only planks there.  Here,” he went on, shaking him slightly, “do we want the boats?”
    “No,” answered Almayer, viciously.  “You want a grave.”
    “What?  Wild again!  Try to talk sense.”
    “Grave!” roared Almayer, struggling to get himself free.  “A hole in the ground.  Don’t you understand?  You must be drunk.  Let me go!  Let go, I tell you!”
    He tore away from the officer’s grasp, and reeled towards the planks where the body lay under its white cover; then he turned round quickly, and faced the semicircle of interested faces.  The sun was sinking rapidly, throwing long shadows of house and trees over the courtyard, but the light lingered yet on the river, where the logs went drifting past in midstream, looking very distinct and black in the pale red glow.  The trunks of the trees in the forest on the