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Oh, yes, I heard it quite distinctly Almayer, Almayer and saw Captain C smile, while the fat, dingy Rajah laughed audibly. To hear a Malay Rajah laugh outright is a rare experience, I can as sure you.
For the last fortnight Almayer was absorbed in the preparations, walking amongst his workmen and slaves in a kind of waking trance, where practical details as to the fitting out of the boats were mixed up with vivid dreams of untold wealth, where the present misery of burning sun, of the muddy and malodorous river bank disappeared in a gorgeous vision of a splendid future existence for himself and Nina.
Almayer, the smoky light in one hand, his pipe in the other, stood before the curtained cot looking at his daughter at his little Nina at that part of himself, at that small and unconscious particle of humanity that seemed to him to contain all his soul.
Almayer, who had been craning her neck to look round the corner of the shed, drew back her head. "There is nobody there," she said, reassured. "Is it not time for the Rajah war-canoe to go to the clearing?" "I have been waiting for it here, for I myself must go," explained Babalatchi. "I think I will go over and see what makes them late. When will you come? The Rajah gives you refuge."
"It is bad to have to trust a Malay," he said, "but I must own that this Dain is a perfect gentleman a perfect gentleman," he repeated. "Did you ask him to come here, father?" inquired Nina, not looking at him. "Well, of course. We shall start on the day after to-morrow," said Almayer, joyously. "We must not lose any time. Are you glad, little girl?"
Out of kindness. Kindness! Damn! . . . She isn't deaf, surely. He knocked again, then said in a friendly tone, grinning benevolently at the closed door "It's me, Mrs. Willems. I want to speak to you. I have . . . have . . . important news. . . ." "What is it?" "News," repeated Almayer, distinctly. "News about your husband. Your husband! . . . Damn him!" he added, under his breath.
And the skipper, throwing away his cigar, walked off to "wake them up on board," as he expressed it. Almayer vainly expected to hear of the cause of his daughter's return from his daughter's lips. Not that day, not on any other day did she ever allude to her Singapore life.
Master, see? Now plain. See?" Almayer followed Ali's forefinger with his eyes for a long time in vain. At last he sighted a triangular patch of yellow light on the red background of the cliffs of Tanjong Mirrah. It was the sail of the prau that had caught the sunlight and stood out, distinct with its gay tint, on the dark red of the cape.
He pivoted on his heels with great rapidity and made believe to be absorbed in the contemplation of the night outside. He heard Almayer moving about behind his back. Chairs were displaced. His master sat down. "Ali," said Almayer. His face was gloomy and thoughtful. He looked at his head man, who had approached the table, then he pulled out his watch. It was going.
"All's well!" muttered Almayer to himself, taking some loose Java tobacco from a drawer in the table. "Now if anything comes out I am clear. I asked the man to go up the river. I urged him. He will say so himself. Good." He began to charge the china bowl of his pipe, a pipe with a long cherry stem and a curved mouthpiece, pressing the tobacco down with his thumb and thinking: No.
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