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An Outcast of the Islands-Part14_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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from there--as the case might be. Babalatchi did not mind in the

least the putting off of his own occupation of the house of



honour, because it had many advantages for the quiet working out

of his plans. It had a certain seclusion, having an enclosure of



its own, and that enclosure communicated also with Lakamba's

private courtyard at the back of his residence--a place set apart



for the female household of the chief. The only communication

with the river was through the great front courtyard always full



of armed men and watchful eyes. Behind the whole group of

buildings there stretched the level ground of rice-clearings,



which in their turn were closed in by the wall of untouched

forests with undergrowth so thick and tangled that nothing but a



bullet--and that fired at pretty close range--could penetrate any

distance there.



Babalatchi slipped quietly through the little gate and, closing

it, tied up carefully the rattan fastenings. Before the house



there was a square space of ground, beaten hard into the level

smoothness of asphalte. A big buttressed tree, a giant left



there on purpose during the process of clearing the land, roofed

in the clear space with a high canopy of gnarled boughs and



thick, sombre leaves. To the right--and some small distance away

from the large house--a little hut of reeds, covered with mats,



had been put up for the special convenience of Omar, who, being

blind and infirm, had some difficulty in ascending the steep



plankway that led to the more substantialdwelling, which was

built on low posts and had an uncovered verandah. Close by the



trunk of the tree, and facing the doorway of the hut, the

household fire glowed in a small handful of embers in the midst



of a large circle of white ashes. An old woman--some humble

relation of one of Lakamba's wives, who had been ordered to



attend on Aissa--was squatting over the fire and lifted up her

bleared eyes to gaze at Babalatchi in an uninterested manner, as



he advanced rapidly across the courtyard.

Babalatchi took in the courtyard with a keen glance of his



solitary eye, and without looking down at the old woman muttered

a question. Silently, the woman stretched a tremulous and



emaciated arm towards the hut. Babalatchi made a few steps

towards the doorway, but stopped outside in the sunlight.



"O! Tuan Omar, Omar besar! It is I--Babalatchi!"

Within the hut there was a feeble groan, a fit of coughing and an



indistinct murmur in the broken tones of a vague plaint.

Encouraged evidently by those signs of dismal life within,



Babalatchi entered the hut, and after some time came out leading

with rigid carefulness the blind Omar, who followed with both his



hands on his guide's shoulders. There was a rude seat under the

tree, and there Babalatchi led his old chief, who sat down with a



sigh of relief and leaned wearily against the rugged trunk. The

rays of the setting sun, darting under the spreading branches,



rested on the white-robed figure sitting with head thrown back in

stiff dignity, on the thin hands moving uneasily, and on the



stolid face with its eyelids dropped over the destroyed eyeballs;

a face set into the immobility of a plaster cast yellowed by age.



"Is the sun near its setting?" asked Omar, in a dull voice.

"Very near," answered Babalatchi.



"Where am I? Why have I been taken away from the place which I

knew--where I, blind, could move without fear? It is like black



night to those who see. And the sun is near its setting--and I

have not heard the sound of her footsteps since the morning!



Twice a strange hand has given me my food to-day. Why? Why?

Where is she?"



"She is near," said Babalatchi.

"And he?" went on Omar, with sudden eagerness, and a drop in his



voice. "Where is he? Not here. Not here!" he repeated, turning

his head from side to side as if in deliberate attempt to see.



"No! He is not here now," said Babalatchi, soothingly. Then,

after a pause, he added very low, "But he shall soon return."



"Return! O crafty one! Will he return? I have cursed him three




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