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Updated: June 8, 2025
Karain looked slowly from face to face, and then the silence became so profound that we all could hear distinctly the two chronometers in my cabin ticking along with unflagging speed against one another. And we three, strangely moved, could not take our eyes from him.
Karain stared stonily; and looking at his rigid figure, I thought of his wanderings, of that obscure Odyssey of revenge, of all the men that wander amongst illusions faithful, faithless; of the illusions that give joy, that give sorrow, that give pain, that give peace; of the invincible illusions that can make life and death appear serene, inspiring, tormented, or ignoble.
Meantime we noticed that, even during the most important interviews, Karain would often give a start, and interrupting his discourse, would sweep his arm back with a sudden movement, to feel whether the old fellow was there. The old fellow, impenetrable and weary, was always there.
It was after an interval of long groping amongst vague impulses and hesitations which ended in the production of "The Nigger" that I turned to my third short story in the order of time, the first in this volume: "Karain: A Memory." Reading it after many years "Karain" produced on me the effect of something seen through a pair of glasses from a rather advantageous position.
He was silent for a while, then exclaimed softly "Oh! the strength of unbelievers!" "There's no one here but you and we three," said Hollis, quietly. He reclined with his head supported on elbow and did not budge. "I know," said Karain. "He has never followed me here. Was not the wise man ever by my side?
Karain walked fast, and with firm long strides; he answered greetings right and left by quick piercing glances. Children ran forward between the houses, peeped fearfully round corners; young boys kept up with him, gliding between bushes: their eyes gleamed through the dark leaves.
Under the stern awning bearded Jackson jingled an old guitar and sang, with an execrable accent, Spanish love-songs; while young Hollis and I, sprawling on the deck, had a game of chess by the light of a cargo lantern. Karain did not appear. Next day we were busy unloading, and heard that the Rajah was unwell. The expected invitation to visit him ashore did not come.
As to Karain, nothing could happen to him unless what happens to all failure and death; but his quality was to appear clothed in the illusion of unavoidable success. He seemed too effective, too necessary there, too much of an essential condition for the existence of his land and his people, to be destroyed by anything short of an earthquake.
Karain covered the handle of his kriss in sign of respect, and stared at the crowned head. "The Invincible, the Pious," he muttered. "She is more powerful than Suleiman the Wise, who commanded the genii, as you know," said Hollis, gravely. "I shall give this to you." He held the sixpence in the palm of his hand, and looking at it thoughtfully, spoke to us in English.
"What's that?" asked Hollis, who had not heard. "He apologizes for coming in with a weapon in his hand," I said, dazedly. "Ceremonious beggar. Tell him we forgive a friend . . . on such a night," drawled out Hollis. "What's wrong?" Karain slipped the dry sarong over his head, dropped the wet one at his feet, and stepped out of it. I pointed to the wooden armchair his armchair.
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