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Tales of Unrest-Part26_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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the great lagoon gleaming suddenly with reflected lights resembled an

oval patch of night sky flung down into the hopeless and abysmal night



of the wilderness. The white man had some supper out of the basket,

then collecting a few sticks that lay about the platform, made up a



small fire, not for warmth, but for the sake of the smoke, which would

keep off the mosquitos. He wrapped himself in the blankets and sat



with his back against the reed wall of the house, smoking

thoughtfully.



Arsat came through the doorway with noiseless steps and squatted down

by the fire. The white man moved his outstretched legs a little.



"She breathes," said Arsat in a low voice, anticipating the expected

question. "She breathes and burns as if with a great fire. She speaks



not; she hears not--and burns!"

He paused for a moment, then asked in a quiet, incurious tone--



"Tuan . . . will she die?"

The white man moved his shoulders uneasily and muttered in a



hesitating manner--

"If such is her fate."



"No, Tuan," said Arsat, calmly. "If such is my fate. I hear, I see, I

wait. I remember . . . Tuan, do you remember the old days? Do you



remember my brother?"

"Yes," said the white man. The Malay rose suddenly and went in. The



other, sitting still outside, could hear the voice in the hut. Arsat

said: "Hear me! Speak!" His words were succeeded by a complete



silence. "O Diamelen!" he cried, suddenly. After that cry there was a

deep sigh. Arsat came out and sank down again in his old place.



They sat in silence before the fire. There was no sound within the

house, there was no sound near them; but far away on the lagoon they



could hear the voices of the boatmen ringing fitful and distinct on

the calm water. The fire in the bows of the sampan shone faintly in



the distance with a hazy red glow. Then it died out. The voices

ceased. The land and the water slept invisible, unstirring and mute.



It was as though there had been nothing left in the world but the

glitter of stars streaming, ceaseless and vain, through the black



stillness of the night.

The white man gazed straight before him into the darkness with



wide-open eyes. The fear and fascination, the inspiration and the

wonder of death--of death near, unavoidable, and unseen, soothed the



unrest of his race and stirred the most indistinct, the most intimate

of his thoughts. The ever-ready suspicion of evil, the gnawing



suspicion that lurks in our hearts, flowed out into the stillness

round him--into the stillnessprofound and dumb, and made it appear



untrustworthy and infamous, like the placid and impenetrable mask

of an unjustifiable violence. In that fleeting and powerful



disturbance" target="_blank" title="n.扰乱，骚动">disturbance of his being the earth enfolded in the starlight peace

became a shadowy country of inhuman strife, a battle-field of phantoms



terrible and charming, august or ignoble, struggling ardently for the

possession of our helpless hearts. An unquiet and mysterious country



of inextinguishable desires and fears.

A plaintive murmur rose in the night; a murmur saddening and



startling, as if the great solitudes of surrounding woods had tried to

whisper into his ear the wisdom of their immense and lofty



indifference. Sounds hesitating and vague floated in the air round

him, shaped themselves slowly into words; and at last flowed on gently



in a murmuring stream of soft and monotonous sentences. He stirred

like a man waking up and changed his position slightly. Arsat,



motionless and shadowy, sitting with bowed head under the stars, was

speaking in a low and dreamy tone--



". . . for where can we lay down the heaviness of our trouble but in a

friend's heart? A man must speak of war and of love. You, Tuan, know



what war is, and you have seen me in time of danger seek death as

other men seek life! A writing may be lost; a lie may be written; but



what the eye has seen is truth and remains in the mind!"




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