TheLagoonJosephConrad

Published:1897Categorie(s):Fiction,ShortStoriesSource:Wikisource

AboutConrad:Joseph Conrad (born

Teodor Józef KonradKorzeniowski, 3 December1857–3August1924)wasaPolish-bornnovelist.Someofhisworks have been labelledromantic: Conrad's supposed"romanticism" is heavilyimbuedwith ironyanda finesense of man's capacity forself-deception. Many criticsregard Conrad as animportant forerunner of

Modernistliterature.Conrad'snarrativestyleandanti-heroiccharacters have influencedmany writers, includingErnest Hemingway, D.H.Lawrence, Graham Greene,Joseph Heller and JerzyKosiński,aswellasinspiringsuch films as ApocalypseNow(whichwasdrawnfromConrad'sHeart ofDarkness).Source:Wikipedia

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Conrad:

HeartofDarkness(1902)LordJim(1900)TheSecretAgent(1907)APersonalRecord(1912)Nostromo:ATaleoftheSeaboard(1904)TheNiggerofthe'Narcissus'(1897)TheDuel(1908)AnOutpostofProgress

(1896)TheInformer(1906)UnderWesternEyes(1911)

Copyright:ThisworkisavailableforcountrieswherecopyrightisLife+70andintheUSA.

Note:ThisbookisbroughttoyoubyFeedbookshttp://www.feedbooks.comStrictlyforpersonaluse,do

notusethisfileforcommercialpurposes.

Thewhiteman, leaningwithbotharmsovertheroofofthelittlehouseinthesternoftheboat,saidtothesteersman—"Wewill pass the night in

Arsat'sclearing.Itislate."The Malay only grunted,

and went on looking fixedlyat the river. The white manrestedhischinonhiscrossedarms and gazed at the wakeoftheboat.Attheendofthestraight avenue of forests cutby the intense glitter of the

river, the sun appearedunclouded and dazzling,poisedlowoverthewaterthatshonesmoothlylikeabandofmetal. The forests, sombreand dull, stood motionlessandsilentoneachsideofthebroad stream. At the foot ofbig, towering trees, trunklessnipapalmsrosefromthemudof the bank, in bunches ofleaves enormous and heavy,that hung unstirring over thebrown swirl of eddies. In the

stillnessof theairevery tree,every leaf, every bough,every tendril of creeper andevery petal of minuteblossoms seemed to havebeen bewitched into animmobility perfect and final.Nothing moved on the riverbuttheeightpaddlesthatroseflashing regularly, dippedtogetherwithasinglesplash;while the steersman sweptright and leftwith a periodicand sudden flourish of his

blade describing a glintingsemicircle above his head.Thechurned-upwaterfrothedalongside with a confusedmurmur.Andthewhiteman'scanoe,advancingupstreaminthe short-liveddisturbanceofits own making, seemed toenter the portals of a landfromwhichtheverymemoryof motion had foreverdeparted.Thewhiteman,turninghis

back upon the setting sun,

looked along the empty andbroad expanse of the sea-reach.Forthelastthreemilesof its course the wandering,hesitating river, as if enticedirresistiblyby thefreedomofan open horizon, flowsstraight into the sea, flowsstraight to the east—to theeast that harbours both lightand darkness. Astern of theboattherepeatedcallofsomebird, a cry discordant andfeeble,skippedalongoverthe

smooth water and lost itself,beforeitcouldreachtheothershore, in the breathlesssilenceoftheworld.The steersman dug his

paddle into the stream, andheldhardwithstiffenedarms,hisbodythrownforward.Thewater gurgled aloud; andsuddenly the long straightreach seemed to pivot on itscentre,theforestsswunginasemicircle, and the slantingbeams of sunset touched the

broadsideofthecanoewithafiery glow, throwing theslenderanddistortedshadowsof itscrewupon the streakedglitterof theriver.Thewhiteman turned to look ahead.The course of the boat hadbeenalteredatright-anglestothe stream, and the carveddragon-head of its prow waspointing now at a gap in thefringingbushesofthebank.Itglided through, brushing theoverhanging twigs, and

disappeared from the riverlike some slim andamphibious creature leavingthe water for its lair in theforests.Thenarrowcreekwas like

a ditch: tortuous, fabulouslydeep;filledwithgloomunderthe thin strip of pure andshining blue of the heaven.Immense trees soared up,invisiblebehindthefestooneddraperies of creepers. Hereand there, near theglistening

blackness of the water, atwisted rootof some tall treeshowed amongst the traceryofsmallferns,blackanddull,writhing andmotionless, likean arrested snake. The shortwords of the paddlersreverberated loudly betweenthethickandsombrewallsofvegetation. Darkness oozedout from between the trees,through the tangled maze ofthecreepers, frombehind thegreat fantastic and unstirring

leaves; the darkness,mysteriousandinvincible;thedarkness scented andpoisonous of impenetrableforests.The men poled in the

shoaling water. The creekbroadened,openingoutintoawide sweep of a stagnantlagoon. The forests recededfrom the marshy bank,leavinga levelstripofbrightgreen, reedy grass to framethe reflected blueness of the

sky. A fleecy pink clouddrifted high above, trailingthe delicate colouring of itsimage under the floatingleaves and the silveryblossomsofthelotus.Alittlehouse,perchedonhighpiles,appeared black in thedistance. Near it, two tallnibongpalms, thatseemed tohave come out of the forestsin the background, leanedslightlyover the ragged roof,with a suggestion of sad

tenderness and care in thedroop of their leafy andsoaringheads.The steersman, pointing

with his paddle, said, "Arsatis there. I see his canoe fastbetweenthepiles."The polers ran along the

sides of the boat glancingovertheirshouldersattheendof the day's journey. Theywould have preferred tospend the night somewhereelse than on this lagoon of

weird aspect and ghostlyreputation. Moreover, theydisliked Arsat, first as astranger, andalsobecausehewho repairs a ruined house,and dwells in it, proclaimsthat he is not afraid to liveamongstthespiritsthathauntthe places abandoned bymankind. Such a man candisturb the course of fate byglances or words; while hisfamiliarghostsarenoteasytopropitiatebycasualwayfarers

upon whom they long towreak the malice of theirhuman master. White mencare not for such things,being unbelievers and inleague with the Father ofEvil, who leads themunharmed through theinvisible dangers of thisworld.Tothewarningsoftherighteous they oppose anoffensive pretence ofdisbelief.What is there tobedone?

So they thought, throwingtheir weight on the end oftheir long poles. The bigcanoe glided on swiftly,noiselessly, and smoothly,towards Arsat's clearing, till,in a great rattling of polesthrown down, and the loudmurmurs of "Allah bepraised!" it came with agentle knock against thecrooked piles below thehouse.The boatmenwith uplifted

faces shouted discordantly,"Arsat! O Arsat!" Nobodycame. The white man beganto climb the rude laddergiving access to the bambooplatform before the house.The juragan of the boat saidsulkily, "Wewill cook in thesampan, and sleep on thewater.""Passmy blankets and the

basket," said the white man,curtly.Hekneltontheedgeofthe

platform to receive thebundle.Thentheboatshovedoff, and the white man,standing up, confrontedArsat, who had come outthrough the low door of hishut. He was a man young,powerful, with broad chestand muscular arms. He hadnothingonbuthissarong.Hishead was bare. His big, softeyes stared eagerly at thewhiteman,buthisvoice anddemeanourwerecomposedas

he asked, without any wordsofgreeting—"Have you medicine,

Tuan?""No," said the visitor in a

startled tone. "No. Why? Istheresicknessinthehouse?""Enter and see," replied

Arsat, in the same calmmanner, and turning shortround, passed again throughthesmalldoorway.Thewhiteman, dropping his bundles,followed.

In the dim light of thedwelling he made out on acouch of bamboos a womanstretchedonherbackunderabroad sheet of red cottoncloth.Shelaystill,asifdead;but her big eyes, wide open,glitteredinthegloom,staringupwardsattheslenderrafters,motionlessandunseeing.Shewas in a high fever, andevidently unconscious. Hercheeksweresunkslightly,herlipswerepartlyopen,andon

the young face therewas theominousandfixedexpression—the absorbed,contemplating expression ofthe unconscious who aregoing to die. The two menstood lookingdownat her insilence."Has she been long ill?"

askedthetraveller."I have not slept for five

nights," answered theMalay,in a deliberate tone. "At firstshe heard voices calling her

from thewater and struggledagainstmewhoheldher.Butsince the sun of to-day roseshe hears nothing—she hearsnotme.Sheseesnothing.Sheseesnotme—me!"He remained silent for a

minute,thenaskedsoftly—"Tuan,willshedie?""I fear so," said the white

man, sorrowfully. He hadknown Arsat years ago, in afarcountryintimesoftroubleand danger, when no

friendship is to be despised.And since his Malay friendhad come unexpectedly todwellinthehutonthelagoonwithastrangewoman,hehadsleptmanytimesthere,inhisjourneys up and down theriver. He liked the man whoknew how to keep faith incouncil and how to fightwithoutfearbythesideofhiswhite friend.He likedhim—notsomuchperhapsasamanlikes his favourite dog—but

stillhelikedhimwellenoughtohelpandasknoquestions,to think sometimes vaguelyandhazilyinthemidstofhisownpursuits,aboutthelonelyman and the long-hairedwoman with audacious faceand triumphant eyes, wholived together hidden by theforests—aloneandfeared.Thewhitemancameoutof

the hut in time to see theenormous conflagration ofsunset put out by the swift

and stealthy shadows that,rising like a black andimpalpable vapour above thetree-tops, spread over theheaven, extinguishing thecrimson glow of floatingclouds and the red brillianceof departing daylight. In afew moments all the starscame out above the intenseblacknessoftheearthandthegreat lagoon gleamingsuddenlywithreflectedlightsresembled an oval patch of

nightskyflungdownintothehopeless and abysmal nightof the wilderness. The whiteman had some supper out ofthe basket, then collecting afew sticks that lay about theplatform, made up a smallfire, not for warmth, but forthesakeof thesmoke,whichwould keep off themosquitos. He wrappedhimself in the blankets andsat with his back against thereed wall of the house,

smokingthoughtfully.Arsat came through the

doorwaywith noiseless stepsand squatted down by thefire. The white man movedhisoutstretchedlegsalittle."She breathes," said Arsat

in a low voice, anticipatingthe expected question. "Shebreathes andburns as ifwitha great fire. She speaks not;shehearsnot—andburns!"He paused for a moment,

then asked in a quiet,

incurioustone—"Tuan…willshedie?"The white man moved his

shoulders uneasily andmuttered in a hesitatingmanner—"Ifsuchisherfate.""No, Tuan," said Arsat,

calmly. "If such ismy fate. Ihear, I see, I wait. Iremember … Tuan, do youremember the old days? Doyouremembermybrother?""Yes," said thewhiteman.

TheMalayrosesuddenlyandwentin.Theother,sittingstilloutside, could hear the voicein the hut. Arsat said: "Hearme! Speak!"Hiswordsweresucceeded by a completesilence. "O Diamelen!" hecried,suddenly.Afterthatcrythere was a deep sigh. Arsatcame out and sank downagaininhisoldplace.They sat in silence before

the fire. Therewas no soundwithin the house, there was

no sound near them; but faraway on the lagoon theycould hear the voices of theboatmen ringing fitful anddistinct on the calm water.The fire in the bows of thesampan shone faintly in thedistance with a hazy redglow. Then it died out. Thevoices ceased. The land andthe water slept invisible,unstirringandmute.Itwasasthough there had beennothing left in the world but

the glitter of stars streaming,ceaseless and vain, throughthe black stillness of thenight.The white man gazed

straight before him into thedarkness with wide-openeyes. The fear andfascination, the inspirationand thewonder of death—ofdeath near, unavoidable, andunseen, soothed theunrestofhis race and stirred the mostindistinct, the most intimate

of his thoughts. The ever-ready suspicion of evil, thegnawing suspicion that lurksinourhearts,flowedout intothe stillness round him—intothe stillness profound anddumb, and made it appearuntrustworthy and infamous,like the placid andimpenetrable mask of anunjustifiableviolence. In thatfleeting and powerfuldisturbance of his being theearthenfoldedinthestarlight

peace became a shadowycountry of inhuman strife, abattle-field of phantomsterrible andcharming, augustor ignoble, strugglingardentlyforthepossessionofour helpless hearts. Anunquiet and mysteriouscountry of inextinguishabledesiresandfears.Aplaintivemurmurrosein

the night; a murmursaddening and startling, as ifthe great solitudes of

surrounding woods had triedto whisper into his ear thewisdomoftheirimmenseandlofty indifference. Soundshesitating and vague floatedin the air round him, shapedthemselves slowly intowords; and at last flowed ongentlyinamurmuringstreamof soft and monotonoussentences. He stirred like amanwaking up and changedhis position slightly. Arsat,motionless and shadowy,

sitting with bowed headunder thestars,wasspeakinginalowanddreamytone—"… for where can we lay

down the heaviness of ourtroublebutinafriend'sheart?Amanmustspeakofwarandof love. You, Tuan, knowwhat war is, and you haveseen me in time of dangerseekdeathasothermenseeklife!Awritingmaybelost;alie may be written; but whatthe eye has seen is truth and

remainsinthemind!""I remember," said the

white man, quietly. Arsatwent on with mournfulcomposure—"Therefore I shall speak to

you of love. Speak in thenight. Speak before bothnightandlovearegone—andtheeyeofdaylooksuponmysorrow and my shame; uponmy blackened face; uponmyburnt-upheart."A sigh, short and faint,

marked an almostimperceptiblepause,andthenhiswordsflowedon,withoutastir,withoutagesture."After the time of trouble

and war was over and youwent away from my countryinthepursuitofyourdesires,whichwe,menoftheislands,cannot understand, I and mybrother became again, as wehad been before, the sword-bearers of the Ruler. Youknowweweremenoffamily,

belonging to a ruling race,andmorefitthananytocarryon our right shoulder theemblemofpower.Andinthetime of prosperity SiDendring showed us favour,aswe,intimeofsorrow,hadshowed to him thefaithfulnessofourcourage.Itwas a time of peace. A timeofdeer-huntsandcock-fights;of idle talks and foolishsquabbles between menwhose bellies are full and

weapons are rusty. But thesower watched the youngrice-shoots grow up withoutfear,andthetraderscameandwent, departed lean andreturned fat into the river ofpeace. They brought news,too. Brought lies and truthmixed together, so that noman knew when to rejoiceand when to be sorry. Weheard from them about youalso.Theyhadseenyouhereandhadseenyouthere.AndI

was glad to hear, for Iremembered the stirringtimes, and I alwaysremembered you, Tuan, tillthe timecamewhenmyeyescouldseenothinginthepast,becausetheyhadlookedupontheonewho isdying there—inthehouse."He stopped to exclaim in

an intense whisper, "OMarabahia! O Calamity!" thenwent on speaking a littlelouder:

"There's no worse enemyand no better friend than abrother,Tuan,foronebrotherknowsanother,andinperfectknowledge is strength forgood or evil. I loved mybrother. I went to him andtold him that I could seenothing but one face, hearnothing but one voice. Hetoldme: 'Open your heart sothat she can seewhat is in it—and wait. Patience iswisdom.InchiMidahmaydie

or our Ruler may throw offhis fear of a woman!' … Iwaited!…Yourememberthelady with the veiled face,Tuan, and the fear of ourRulerbeforehercunningandtemper. And if she wantedherservant,whatcouldIdo?But I fed the hunger of myheart on short glances andstealthy words. I loitered onthepathtothebath-housesinthe daytime, and when thesun had fallen behind the

forest I crept along thejasmine hedges of thewomen's courtyard.Unseeing, we spoke to oneanother through the scent offlowers, through the veil ofleaves, through the blades oflong grass that stood stillbefore our lips; so great wasourprudence,sofaintwasthemurmurofourgreat longing.The time passed swiftly …and there were whispersamongst women—and our

enemies watched—mybrother was gloomy, and Ibegan to think of killing andof a fierce death… .We areof a people who take whatthey want—like you whites.There is a time when a manshould forget loyalty andrespect. Might and authorityare given to rulers, but to allmen is given love andstrength and courage. Mybrother said, 'You shall takeher from theirmidst.We are

twowhoare likeone.'And Ianswered, 'Let itbesoon, forI find no warmth in sunlightthatdoesnotshineuponher.'Our time came when theRulerandallthegreatpeoplewenttothemouthoftheriverto fish by torchlight. Therewere hundreds of boats, andon the white sand, betweenthe water and the forests,dwellingsofleaveswerebuiltfor the households of theRajahs. The smoke of

cooking-fireswas like a bluemist of the evening, andmany voices rang in itjoyfully. While they weremaking the boats ready tobeat up the fish, my brothercame to me and said, 'To-night!' I looked to myweapons, and when the timecameourcanoetookitsplaceinthecircleofboatscarryingthetorches.Thelightsblazedon the water, but behind theboats there was darkness.

Whentheshoutingbeganandthe excitement made themlikemadwedroppedout.Thewaterswallowedourfire,andwe floated back to the shorethatwas darkwith only hereand there the glimmer ofembers. We could hear thetalk of slave-girls amongstthe sheds. Then we found aplacedesertedandsilent.Wewaited there. She came. Shecamerunningalongtheshore,rapid and leaving no trace,

likealeafdrivenbythewindinto the sea.Mybrother saidgloomily, 'Go and take her;carry her into our boat.' Ilifted her in my arms. Shepanted.Herheartwasbeatingagainst my breast. I said, 'Itake you from those people.You came to the cry of myheart, but my arms take youintomyboat against thewillof thegreat!' 'It is right,' saidmybrother.'Wearemenwhotake what we want and can

hold it against many. Weshould have taken her indaylight.' I said, 'Let us beoff'; for since shewas inmyboat I began to think of ourRuler's many men. 'Yes. Letus be off,' said my brother.'Wearecastoutandthisboatis our country now—and theseaisourrefuge.'Helingeredwith his foot on the shore,andIentreatedhimtohasten,for I remembered the strokesofherheartagainstmybreast

and thought that two mencannot withstand a hundred.We left, paddlingdownstream close to thebank;andaswepassedbythecreek where they werefishing, the great shoutinghad ceased, but the murmurof voices was loud like thehumming of insects flying atnoonday. The boats floated,clustered together, in the redlightoftorches,underablackroof of smoke; and men

talkedoftheirsport.Menthatboasted, and praised, andjeered—menthatwouldhavebeen our friends in themorning, but on that nightwere already our enemies.Wepaddled swiftly past.Wehad no more friends in thecountry of our birth. She satin the middle of the canoewith covered face; silent assheisnow;unseeingassheisnow—and I had no regret atwhat Iwas leavingbecause I

couldhearherbreathingcloseto me—as I can hear hernow."He paused, listened with

hisearturnedtothedoorway,thenshookhisheadandwenton:"My brother wanted to

shout the cry of challenge—one cry only—to let thepeople know we werefreeborn robbers who trustedour arms and the great sea.And again I begged him in

the name of our love to besilent. Could I not hear herbreathingclosetome?Iknewthepursuitwouldcomequickenough. My brother lovedme. He dipped his paddlewithout a splash. He onlysaid, 'There is half a man inyounow—theotherhalfisinthatwoman.Icanwait.Whenyou are a whole man again,youwill come backwithmehere to shout defiance. Wearesonsof thesamemother.'

I made no answer. All mystrength and all my spiritwere in my hands that heldthepaddle—forIlongedtobewith her in a safe placebeyond the reach of men'sanger and of women's spite.My lovewas so great, that Ithoughtitcouldguidemetoacountry where death wasunknown, if I could onlyescape from Inchi Midah'sfury and from our Ruler'ssword. We paddled with

haste, breathing through ourteeth.Thebladesbitdeepintothesmoothwater.Wepassedout of the river; we flew inclear channels amongst theshallows. We skirted theblack coast; we skirted thesand beaches where the seaspeaks in whispers to theland; and the gleamofwhitesand flashed back past ourboat, so swiftly she ranuponthe water. We spoke not.Only once I said, 'Sleep,

Diamelen, for soon youmaywant all your strength.' Iheard the sweetness of hervoice, but I never turnedmyhead. The sun rose and stillwewent on.Water fell frommy face like rain from acloud. We flew in the lightandheat.Ineverlookedback,but I knew thatmy brother'seyes, behind me, werelooking steadily ahead, fortheboatwentasstraightasabushman's dart, when it

leaves the end of thesumpitan.Therewasnobetterpaddler, no better steersmanthanmybrother.Manytimes,together,wehadwonracesinthatcanoe.Butweneverhadputoutourstrengthaswedidthen—then,when for the lasttime we paddled together!There was no braver orstronger man in our countrythanmy brother. I could notspare the strength to turnmyhead and look at him, but

everymomentIheardthehissof his breath getting louderbehind me. Still he did notspeak.Thesunwashigh.Theheat clung tomyback like aflame of fire. My ribs werereadytoburst,butIcouldnolongergetenoughairintomychest. And then I felt Imustcry out with my last breath,'Let us rest!' … 'Good!' heanswered; and his voice wasfirm.Hewas strong.Hewasbrave.He knew not fear and

nofatigue…Mybrother!"A murmur powerful and

gentle, a murmur vast andfaint; the murmur oftrembling leaves, of stirringboughs, ran through thetangled depths of the forests,ran over the starrysmoothness of the lagoon,and the water between thepiles lapped the slimy timberoncewithasuddensplash.Abreath of warm air touchedthe two men's faces and

passed on with a mournfulsound—a breath loud andshort like an uneasy sigh ofthedreamingearth.Arsat went on in an even,

lowvoice."We ran our canoe on the

white beach of a little bayclosetoalongtongueoflandthatseemedtobarourroad;along wooded cape going farintothesea.Mybrotherknewthatplace.Beyondthecapeariver has its entrance, and

through the jungle of thatland there is a narrow path.We made a fire and cookedrice. Then we lay down tosleep on the soft sand in theshadeofourcanoe,whileshewatched. No sooner had Iclosed my eyes than I heardher cry of alarm.We leapedup. The sun was halfwaydown the sky already, andcoming in sight in theopeningof thebaywe sawaprau manned by many

paddlers.Weknewitatonce;it was one of our Rajah'spraus. They were watchingthe shore, and saw us. Theybeat thegong,andturnedtheheadoftheprauintothebay.I feltmyheart becomeweakwithin my breast. Diamelensat on the sand and coveredherface.Therewasnoescapeby sea. My brother laughed.Hehadthegunyouhadgivenhim, Tuan, before you wentaway, but there was only a

handfulofpowder.Hespoketomequickly: 'Runwith heralong the path. I shall keepthem back, for they have nofirearms, and landing in theface of a man with a gun iscertain death for some. Runwithher.Ontheothersideofthat wood there is afisherman's house—and acanoe.When I have fired alltheshotsIwillfollow.Iamagreat runner, andbefore theycan come up we shall be

gone. Iwill hold out as longas I can, for she is but awoman—that can neither runnor fight, but she has yourheart in herweak hands.' Hedropped behind the canoe.The prau was coming. Sheand I ran, and as we rushedalong the path I heard shots.My brother fired—once—twice—and the booming ofthe gong ceased. There wassilence behind us. That neckof land is narrow. Before I

heard my brother fire thethird shot I saw the shelvingshore, and I saw the wateragain; the mouth of a broadriver. We crossed a grassyglade. We ran down to thewater. Isawa lowhutabovethe black mud, and a smallcanoe hauled up. I heardanother shot behind me. Ithought, 'That is his lastcharge.' We rushed down tothe canoe; a man camerunning from the hut, but I

leapedonhim,andwerolledtogether in the mud. Then Igotup,andhe laystillatmyfeet. I don't know whether Ihad killed him or not. I andDiamelen pushed the canoeafloat. I heard yells behindme,andIsawmybrotherrunacross the glade. Many menwere bounding after him, Itook her in my arms andthrew her into the boat, thenleaped in myself. When Ilooked back I saw that my

brotherhadfallen.Hefellandwas up again, but the menwere closing round him. Heshouted, 'I am coming!' Themen were close to him. Ilooked. Many men. Then Ilookedather.Tuan,Ipushedthe canoe! I pushed it intodeepwater.Shewaskneelingforward looking atme, and Isaid, 'Take your paddle,'while I struck thewaterwithmine.Tuan,Iheardhimcry.Iheard him cry my name

twice; and I heard voicesshouting, 'Kill! Strike!' Inever turned back. I heardhim calling my name againwith a great shriek, as whenlifeisgoingouttogetherwiththevoice—andIneverturnedmy head.My own name!…My brother! Three times hecalled—but I was not afraidof life.Was she not there inthat canoe? And could I notwithherfindacountrywheredeath is forgotten—where

deathisunknown!"The white man sat up.

Arsat rose and stood, anindistinct and silent figureabovethedyingembersofthefire. Over the lagoon a mistdrifting and low had crept,erasing slowly the glitteringimagesofthestars.Andnowa great expanse of whitevapour covered the land: itflowed cold and gray in thedarkness, eddied in noiselesswhirls round the tree-trunks

andabout theplatformof thehouse,which seemed to floatupon a restless andimpalpable illusion of a sea.Onlyfarawaythetopsofthetrees stood outlined on thetwinkle of heaven, like asombre and forbidding shore—a coast deceptive, pitilessandblack.Arsat's voice vibrated

loudlyintheprofoundpeace."Ihadherthere!Ihadher!

TogetherIwouldhavefaced

allmankind.But I hadher—and—"Hiswordswentoutringing

into the empty distances. Hepaused, and seemed to listento them dying away very far—beyond help and beyondrecall.Thenhesaidquietly—"Tuan,Ilovedmybrother."Abreathofwindmadehim

shiver. High above his head,high above the silent sea ofmist the drooping leaves ofthe palms rattled together

withamournfulandexpiringsound. The white manstretched his legs. His chinrested on his chest, and hemurmured sadly withoutliftinghishead—"Weallloveourbrothers."Arsat burst out with an

intense whispering violence—"WhatdidIcarewhodied?

I wanted peace in my ownheart."Heseemedtohearastirin

the house—listened—thenstepped in noiselessly. Thewhitemanstoodup.Abreezewas coming in fitful puffs.The stars shone paler as ifthey had retreated into thefrozen depths of immensespace. After a chill gust ofwind there were a fewseconds of perfect calm andabsolute silence. Then frombehind the black and wavylineoftheforestsacolumnofgolden light shot up into the

heavens and spread over thesemicircle of the easternhorizon. The sun had risen.The mist lifted, broke intodrifting patches, vanishedinto thin flying wreaths; andthe unveiled lagoon lay,polished and black, in theheavy shadowsat the footofthe wall of trees. A whiteeagle rose over it with aslantingandponderousflight,reached the clear sunshineand appeared dazzlingly

brilliant for a moment, thensoaringhigher,becameadarkand motionless speck beforeitvanishedinto theblueas ifit had left the earth forever.The white man, standinggazing upwards before thedoorway, heard in the hut aconfusedandbrokenmurmurof distracted words endingwith a loud groan. SuddenlyArsat stumbled out withoutstretched hands, shivered,and stood still for some time

withfixedeyes.Thenhesaid—"Sheburnsnomore."Before his face the sun

showed its edge above thetree-tops rising steadily. Thebreeze freshened; a greatbrilliance burst upon thelagoon, sparkled on therippling water. The forestscameoutoftheclearshadowsof the morning, becamedistinct,asiftheyhadrushednearer—to stop short in a

great stir of leaves, ofnodding boughs, of swayingbranches. In the mercilesssunshine the whisper ofunconsciouslifegrewlouder,speaking in anincomprehensible voiceround the dumb darkness ofthat human sorrow. Arsat'seyes wandered slowly, thenstaredattherisingsun."Icanseenothing,"hesaid

halfaloudtohimself."Thereisnothing,"saidthe

white man, moving to theedge of the platform andwaving his hand to his boat.Ashoutcamefaintlyoverthelagoonandthesampanbegantoglidetowardstheabodeofthefriendofghosts."If youwant to comewith

me, I will wait all themorning,"saidthewhiteman,lookingawayuponthewater."No, Tuan," said Arsat,

softly."Ishallnoteatorsleepin thishouse,but Imust first

see my road. Now I can seenothing—see nothing! Thereisnolightandnopeaceintheworld; but there is death—death formany.We are sonsof the same mother—and Ileft him in the midst ofenemies;butIamgoingbacknow."Hedrewa longbreathand

wentoninadreamytone:"InalittlewhileIshallsee

clear enough to strike—tostrike. But she has died,

and…now…darkness."He flung his arms wide

open, let them fall along hisbody, then stood still withunmovedfaceandstonyeyes,staring at the sun. Thewhitemangotdownintohiscanoe.The polers ran smartly alongthesidesof theboat, lookingover their shoulders at thebeginningofawearyjourney.High in the stern, his headmuffledup inwhite rags, thejuragansatmoody,lettinghis

paddle trail in thewater.Thewhiteman, leaningwithbotharms over the grass roof ofthelittlecabin,lookedbackattheshiningrippleoftheboat'swake. Before the sampanpassedoutof the lagoon intothe creek he lifted his eyes.Arsat had not moved. Hestood lonely in the searchingsunshine; and he lookedbeyond the great light of acloudless day into thedarkness of a world of

illusions.

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