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An Outcast of the Islands-Part2_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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contemptuous: "Go to bed, dummy." She would draw a long breath

then and trail out of the room, relieved but unmoved. Nothing



could startle her, make her scold or make her cry. She did not

complain, she did not rebel. That first difference of theirs was



decisive. Too decisive, thought Willems, discontentedly. It had

frightened the soul out of her body apparently. A dismal woman!



A damn'd business altogether! What the devil did he want to go

and saddle himself. . . . Ah! Well! he wanted a home, and the



match seemed to please Hudig, and Hudig gave him the bungalow,

that flower-bowered house to which he was wending his way in the



cool moonlight. And he had the worship of the Da Souza tribe. A

man of his stamp could carry off anything, do anything, aspire to



anything. In another five years those white people who attended

the Sunday card-parties of the Governor would accept



him--half-caste wife and all! Hooray! He saw his shadow dart

forward and wave a hat, as big as a rum barrel, at the end of an



arm several yards long. . . . Who shouted hooray? . . . He

smiled shamefacedly to himself, and, pushing his hands deep into



his pockets, walked faster with a suddenly grave face.

Behind him--to the left--a cigar end glowed in the gateway of Mr.



Vinck's front yard. Leaning against one of the brick pillars,

Mr. Vinck, the cashier of Hudig & Co., smoked the last cheroot of



the evening. Amongst the shadows of the trimmed bushes Mrs.

Vinck crunched slowly, with measured steps, the gravel of the



circular path before the house.

"There's Willems going home on foot--and drunk I fancy," said Mr.



Vinck over his shoulder. "I saw him jump and wave his hat."

The crunching of the gravel stopped.



"Horrid man," said Mrs. Vinck, calmly. "I have heard he beats

his wife."



"Oh no, my dear, no," muttered absently Mr. Vinck, with a vague

gesture. The aspect of Willems as a wife-beater presented to him



no interest. How women do misjudge! If Willems wanted to

torture his wife he would have recourse to less primitive



methods. Mr. Vinck knew Willems well, and believed him to be

very able, very smart--objectionably so. As he took the last



quick draws at the stump of his cheroot, Mr. Vinck reflected that

the confidence accorded by Hudig to Willems was open, under the



circumstances, to loyal criticism from Hudig's cashier.

"He is becoming dangerous; he knows too much. He will have to be



got rid of," said Mr. Vinck aloud. But Mrs. Vinck had gone in

already, and after shaking his head he threw away his cheroot and



followed her slowly.

Willems walked on homeward weaving the splendid web of his



future. The road to greatness lay plainly before his eyes,

straight and shining, without any obstacle that he could see. He



had stepped off the path of honesty, as he understood it, but he

would soon regain it, never to leave it any more! It was a very



small matter. He would soon put it right again. Meantime his

duty was not to be found out, and he trusted in his skill, in his



luck, in his well-established reputation that would disarm

suspicion if anybody dared to suspect. But nobody would dare!



True, he was conscious of a slight deterioration. He had

appropriated temporarily some of Hudig's money. A deplorable



necessity. But he judged himself with the indulgence that should

be extended to the weaknesses of genius. He would make



reparation and all would be as before; nobody would be the loser

for it, and he would go on unchecked toward the brilliant goal of



his ambition.

Hudig's partner!



Before going up the steps of his house he stood for awhile, his

feet well apart, chin in hand, contemplating mentally Hudig's



future partner. A gloriousoccupation. He saw him quite safe;

solid as the hills; deep--deep as an abyss; discreet as the



grave.

CHAPTER TWO



The sea, perhaps because of its saltness, roughens the outside




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