Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad (best ebook reader for chromebook .txt) 📕

“Then Jim understood. He had retreated from one world, for a small matter of an impulsive jump, and now the other, the work of his own hands, had fallen in ruins upon his head. It was not safe for his servant to go out amongst his own people! I believe that in that very moment he had decided to defy the disaster in the only way it occurred to him such a disaster could be defied; but all I know is that, without a word, he came out of his room and sat before the long table, at the head of which he was accustomed to regulate the affairs of his world, proclaiming daily the truth that surely lived in his heart. The dark powers should not rob him twice of his peace. He sat like a stone figure. Tamb’ Itam, deferential, hinted at preparations for defence. The girl he loved came in and spoke to him, but he made a sign with his hand, and she was awed by the dumb appeal for silence in it. She went out on the verandah and sat on the threshold, as if to guard him with her body from dangers outside.

“What thoughts passed through his head⁠—what memories? Who can tell? Everything was gone, and he who had been once unfaithful to his trust had lost again all men’s confidence. It was then, I believe, he tried to write⁠—to somebody⁠—and gave it up. Loneliness was closing on him. People had trusted him with their lives⁠—only for that; and yet they could never, as he had said, never be made to understand him. Those without did not hear him make a sound. Later, towards the evening, he came to the door and called for Tamb’ Itam. ‘Well?’ he asked. ‘There is much weeping. Much anger too,’ said Tamb’ Itam. Jim looked up at him. ‘You know,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, Tuan,’ said Tamb’ Itam. ‘Thy servant does know, and the gates are closed. We shall have to fight.’ ‘Fight! What for?’ he asked. ‘For our lives.’ ‘I have no life,’ he said. Tamb’ Itam heard a cry from the girl at the door. ‘Who knows?’ said Tamb’ Itam. ‘By audacity and cunning we may even escape. There is much fear in men’s hearts, too.’ He went out, thinking vaguely of boats and of open sea, leaving Jim and the girl together.

“I haven’t the heart to set down here such glimpses as she had given me of the hour or more she passed in there wrestling with him for the possession of her happiness. Whether he had any hope⁠—what he expected, what he imagined⁠—it is impossible to say. He was inflexible, and with the growing loneliness of his obstinacy his spirit seemed to rise above the ruins of his existence. She cried ‘Fight!’ into his ear. She could not understand. There was nothing to fight for. He was going to prove his power in another way and conquer the fatal destiny itself. He came out into the courtyard, and behind him, with streaming hair, wild of face, breathless, she staggered out and leaned on the side of the doorway. ‘Open the gates,’ he ordered. Afterwards, turning to those of his men who were inside, he gave them leave to depart to their homes. ‘For how long, Tuan?’ asked one of them timidly. ‘For all life,’ he said, in a sombre tone.

“A hush had fallen upon the town after the outburst of wailing and lamentation that had swept over the river, like a gust of wind from the opened abode of sorrow. But rumours flew in whispers, filling the hearts with consternation and horrible doubts. The robbers were coming back, bringing many others with them, in a great ship, and there would be no refuge in the land for anyone. A sense of utter insecurity as during an earthquake pervaded the minds of men, who whispered their suspicions, looking at each other as if in the presence of some awful portent.

“The sun was sinking towards the forests when Dain Waris’s body was brought into Doramin’s campong. Four men carried it in, covered decently with a white sheet which the old mother had sent out down to the gate to meet her son on his return. They laid him at Doramin’s feet, and the old man sat still for a long time, one hand on each knee, looking down. The fronds of palms swayed gently, and the foliage of fruit trees stirred above his head. Every single man of his people was there, fully armed, when the old nakhoda at last raised his eyes. He moved them slowly over the crowd, as if seeking for a missing face. Again his chin sank on his breast. The whispers of many men mingled with the slight rustling of the leaves.

“The Malay who had brought Tamb’ Itam and the girl to Samarang was there too. ‘Not so angry as many,’ he said to me, but struck with a great awe and wonder at the ‘suddenness of men’s fate, which hangs over their heads like a cloud charged with thunder.’ He told me that when Dain Waris’s body was uncovered at a sign of Doramin’s, he whom they often called the white lord’s friend was disclosed lying unchanged with his eyelids a little open as if about to wake. Doramin leaned forward a little more, like one looking for something fallen on the ground. His eyes searched the body from its feet to its head, for the wound maybe. It was in the forehead and small; and there was no word spoken while one of the bystanders, stooping, took off the silver ring from the cold stiff hand. In silence he held it up before Doramin. A murmur of dismay and horror ran through the crowd at the sight of that familiar token. The old nakhoda stared at it, and suddenly let out one great fierce cry, deep from the chest,