United States or Samoa ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
There are thirty miles of river from Sambir to the gem-like islands of the estuary where the frigate was awaiting the return of the boats. The moon rose long before the boats had traversed half that distance, and the black forest sleeping peacefully under her cold rays woke up that night to the ringing laughter in the small flotilla provoked by some reminiscence of Almayer's lamentable narrative.
The contest was ended behind the curtain, and evidently the younger will had its way, for the rapid shuffle and click of Mrs. Almayer's high-heeled sandals died away in the distance. The tranquillised master of the house was going to resume the conversation when, struck by an unexpected change in the expression of his guest's countenance, he turned his head and saw Nina standing in the doorway.
Such were Almayer's thoughts as, standing on the verandah of his new but already decaying house that last failure of his life he looked on the broad river.
At that date there were in existence only seven chapters of "Almayer's Folly," but the chapter in my history which followed was that of a long, long illness and very dismal convalescence. Geneva, or more precisely the hydropathic establishment of Champel, is rendered forever famous by the termination of the eighth chapter in the history of Almayer's decline and fall.
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.
In the cool of the evening grave Arabs in long white shirts and yellow sleeveless jackets walked slowly on the dusty path by the riverside towards Almayer's gate, and made solemn calls upon that Unbeliever under shallow pretences of business, only to get a glimpse of the young girl in a highly decorous manner.
In his Reminiscences Mr. Conrad has told us, with the surface frankness of a Pole, the genesis of his literary début of Almayer's Folly, his first novel, and in a quite casual fashion throws fresh light on that somewhat enigmatic character reminding me in the juxtaposition of his newer psychologic procedure and the simple old tale, of Wagner's Venusberg ballet, scored after he had composed Tristan und Isolde.
The tree swung slowly round, amid the hiss and foam of the water, and soon getting free of the obstruction began to move down stream again, rolling slowly over, raising upwards a long, denuded branch, like a hand lifted in mute appeal to heaven against the river's brutal and unnecessary violence. Almayer's interest in the fate of that tree increased rapidly.
"'It has set at last, said Nina to her mother, pointing to the hills behind which the sun had sunk." . . . These words of Almayer's romantic daughter I remember tracing on the gray paper of a pad which rested on the blanket of my bed-place.
Then I turned to my very first reader, who, alas! was not to live long enough to know the end of the tale. "Now let me ask you one more thing: is the story quite clear to you as it stands?" He raised his dark, gentle eyes to my face and seemed surprised. "Yes! Perfectly." This was all I was to hear from his lips concerning the merits of "Almayer's Folly." We never spoke together of the book again.
Word Of The Day