Willems mumbled something, and then suddenly caught his hair with

both his hands and remained standing so. Aissa, who had been
looking at him, turned to Lingard.

"What did you say, Rajah Laut?" she cried.
There was a slight stir amongst the filmy threads of her

disordered hair, the bushes by the river sides trembled, the big
tree nodded precipitately over them with an abruptrustle, as if

waking with a start from a troubled sleep--and the breath of hot
breeze passed, light, rapid, and scorching, under the clouds that

whirled round, unbroken but undulating, like a restless phantom
of a sombre sea.

Lingard looked at her pityingly before he said--
"I have told him that he must live here all his life . . . and

with you."
The sun seemed to have gone out at last like a flickering light

away up beyond the clouds, and in the stifling gloom of the
courtyard the three figures stood colourless and shadowy, as if

surrounded by a black and superheated mist. Aissa looked at
Willems, who remained still, as though he had been changed into

stone in the very act of tearing his hair. Then she turned her
head towards Lingard and shouted--

"You lie! You lie! . . . White man. Like you all do. You . .
. whom Abdulla made small. You lie!"

Her words rang out shrill and venomous with her secret scorn,
with her overpowering desire to wound regardless of consequences;

in her woman's reckless desire to cause suffering at any cost, to
cause it by the sound of her own voice--by her own voice, that

would carry the poison of her thought into the hated heart.
Willems let his hands fall, and began to mumble again. Lingard

turned his ear towards him instinctively, caught something that
sounded like "Very well"--then some more mumbling--then a sigh.

"As far as the rest of the world is concerned," said Lingard,
after waiting for awhile in an attentive attitude, "your life is

finished. Nobody will be able to throw any of your villainies in
my teeth; nobody will be able to point at you and say, 'Here goes

a scoundrel of Lingard's up-bringing.' You are buried here."
"And you think that I will stay . . . that I will submit?"

exclaimed Willems, as if he had suddenly recovered the power of
speech.

"You needn't stay here--on this spot," said Lingard, drily.
"There are the forests--and here is the river. You may swim.

Fifteen miles up, or forty down. At one end you will meet
Almayer, at the other the sea. Take your choice."

He burst into a short, joyless laugh, then added with severe
gravity--

"There is also another way."
"If you want to drive my soul into damnation by trying to drive

me to suicide you will not succeed," said Willems in wild
excitement. "I will live. I shall repent. I may escape. . . .

Take that woman away--she is sin."
A hooked dart of fire tore in two the darkness of the distant

horizon and lit up the gloom of the earth with a dazzling and
ghastly flame. Then the thunder was heard far away, like an

incredibly enormous voice muttering menaces.
Lingard said--

"I don't care what happens, but I may tell you that without that
woman your life is not worth much--not twopence. There is a

fellow here who . . . and Abdulla himself wouldn't stand on any
ceremony. Think of that! And then she won't go."

He began, even while he spoke, to walk slowly down towards the
little gate. He didn't look, but he felt as sure that Willems

was following him as if he had been leading him by a string.
Directly he had passed through the wicket-gate into the big

courtyard he heard a voice, behind his back, saying--
"I think she was right. I ought to have shot you. I couldn't

have been worse off."
"Time yet," answered Lingard, without stopping or looking back.

"But, you see, you can't. There is not even that in you."
"Don't provoke me, Captain Lingard," cried Willems.

Lingard turned round sharply. Willems and Aissa stopped.
Another forked flash of lightning split up the clouds overhead,

and threw upon their faces a sudden burst of light--a blaze
violent, sinister and fleeting; and in the same instant they were

deafened by a near, single crash of thunder, which was followed
by a rushing noise, like a frightened sigh of the startled earth.

"Provoke you!" said the old adventurer, as soon as he could make
himself heard. "Provoke you! Hey! What's there in you to

provoke? What do I care?"
"It is easy to speak like that when you know that in the whole

world--in the whole world--I have no friend," said Willems.
"Whose fault?" said Lingard, sharply.

Their voices, after the deep and tremendous noise, sounded to
them very unsatisfactory--thin and frail, like the voices of

pigmies--and they became suddenly silent, as if on that account.
From up the courtyard Lingard's boatmen came down and passed

them, keeping step in a single file, their paddles on shoulder,
and holding their heads straight with their eyes fixed on the

river. Ali, who was walking last, stopped before Lingard, very
stiff and upright. He said--

"That one-eyed Babalatchi is gone, with all his women. He took
everything. All the pots and boxes. Big. Heavy. Three boxes."

He grinned as if the thing had been amusing, then added with an
appearance of anxious concern, "Rain coming."

"We return," said Lingard. "Make ready."
"Aye, aye, sir!" ejaculated Ali with precision, and moved on. He

had been quartermaster with Lingard before making up his mind to
stay in Sambir as Almayer's head man. He strutted towards the

landing-place thinking proudly that he was not like those other
ignorant boatmen, and knew how to answer properly the very

greatest of white captains.
"You have misunderstood me from the first, Captain Lingard," said

Willems.
"Have I? It's all right, as long as there is no mistake about my

meaning," answered Lingard, strolling slowly to the
landing-place. Willems followed him, and Aissa followed Willems.

Two hands were extended to help Lingard in embarking. He stepped
cautiously and heavily into the long and narrow canoe, and sat in

the canvas folding-chair that had been placed in the middle. He
leaned back and turned his head to the two figures that stood on

the bank a little above him. Aissa's eyes were fastened on his
face in a visibleimpatience to see him gone. Willems' look went

straight above the canoe, straight at the forest on the other
side of the river.

"All right, Ali," said Lingard, in a low voice.
A slight stir animated the faces, and a faint murmur ran along

the line of paddlers. The foremost man pushed with the point of
his paddle, canted the fore end out of the dead water into the

current; and the canoe fell rapidly off before the rush of brown
water, the stern rubbing gently against the low bank.

"We shall meet again, Captain Lingard!" cried Willems, in an
unsteady voice.

"Never!" said Lingard, turning half round in his chair to look at
Willems. His fierce red eyes glittered remorselessly over the

high back of his seat.
"Must cross the river. Water less quick over there," said Ali.

He pushed in his turn now with all his strength, throwing his
body recklessly right out over the stern. Then he recovered

himself just in time into the squatting attitude of a monkey
perched on a high shelf, and shouted: "Dayong!"

The paddles struck the water together. The canoe darted forward
and went on steadily crossing the river with a sideways motion

made up of its own speed and the downward drift of the current.