March 21, 2025 • 32 mins
Almayer’s Folly is a dramatic tale of ambition, greed, and personal downfall. European trader Kaspar Almayer, obsessed with finding gold in Malaysia, watches his dreams crumble as his family and fortune slip away. A haunting study of colonialism and failure.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
By Tom Waits, chapter ten, it is said, at last,
said Nina to her mother, pointing towards the hills behind
which the sun had sunk. Listen, Mother, I am going
now to Blangi's creek, and if I should never return,
she interrupted herself, and something like doubt dimmed for a
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moment the fire of suppressed exultation that had glowed in
her eyes and had illuminated the serene impassiveness of her
features with a ray of eager life. During all that
long day of excitement, the day of joy and anxiety,
of hope and terror, a vague grief, and in distinct delight,
while the sun shone with that dazzling light in which
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her love was born and grew till it possessed her
whole being. She was kept firm in her unwavering resolve
by the mysterious whisperings of desire, which filled her heart
with impatient longing for the darkness that would mean the
end of danger and strife, the beginning of happiness, feeling
of love, the completeness of life it had set. At last,
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the short tropical twilight went out before she could draw
the long breath of relief. And now the sudden darkness
seemed to be full of menacing voices, calling upon her
to rush headlong into the unknown, to be true to
her own impulses, to give herself up to the passion
she had evoked and shared. He was waiting in the
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solitude of the secluded clearing, in the vast silence of
the forest. He was waiting alone, a fugitive in fear
of his life. Indifferent to his danger, he was waiting
for her. It was for her only that he had come.
And now, as the time approached when he should have
his reward, she asked herself with dismay, what meant that
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chilling doubt of her own will and of her own desire.
With an effort she shook off the fear of the
passing weakness. He should have his reward, her woman's love
and her woman's honor. Overcame the faltering distrust of that
unknown future waiting for her in the darkness of the river. No,
you will not return, muttered missus Almyer prophetically. Without you,
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he will not go. And if he remains here, She
waved her hand towards the lights of Olmyer's folly, and
the unfinished sentence died out in a threatening murmur. The
two women had met behind the house and now were
walking slowly together towards the creek where all the canoes
were moored. Arrived at the fringe of bushes, they stopped
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by a common impulse, and missus Olmyer, laying her hand
on her daughter's arm, tried in vain to look close
into the girl's averted face. When she attempted to speak,
her first words were lost in a stifled sob that
sounded strangely coming from that woman, who, of all human passions,
seemed to know only those of anger and hate. You
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are going away to be a great manet, she said
at last, in a voice that was steady enough now,
and if you be wise, you shall have much power
that will endure many days and even last into your
old age. What have I been a slave all my life?
And I have cooked rice for a man who had
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no courage and no wisdom. Hi aye, even I was
given in gift by a chief and a warrior to
a man that was neither high high. She wailed to herself, softly,
lamenting the lost possibilities of murder and mischief that could
have fallen to her lot had she been mate it
with the congenial spirit. Nina bent down over Missus Allmyer's
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slight form and scanned attentively under the stars that had
rushed out on the black sky, and now hung breathless
over that strange party her mother's shriveled features, and looked
close into the sunken eyes that could see into her
own dark future. By the light of a long and
painful experience. Again she felt herself fascinated as of old,
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by her mother's exalted mood and by the oracular certainty
of expression, which, together with their fits of violence, had
contributed not a little to the reputation for witchcraft she
enjoyed in the settlement. I was a slave, and you
shall be a queen, went on missus Almyer, looking straight
before her. But remember men's strength and their weakness. Tremble
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before his anger, so that he may see your fear
in the light of day. But in your heart you
may laugh, for after sunset he is your slave, a slave,
he the master of life. You do not know him. Mother,
missus Almyer, condescended to laugh contemptuously. You speak like a
fool of a white woman, she exclaimed, What do you
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know of men's anger and of men's love. Have you
watched the sleep of men weary of dealing death? Have
you fell about you the strong arm that could drive
a chrisp deep into a beating heart. Yah, you are
a white woman and ought to pray to a woman God.
Why do you say this? I have listened to your
words so long that I have forgotten my old life.
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If I was white, would I stand here? Let me
to go, Mother, I shall return to the house and
look once more at my father's face. No, said missus
Almyer violently. No. He sleeps now, the sleep of gin,
and if you went back, he might awake and see you. No,
he shall never see you. When the terrible old man
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took you away from me when you were little, you remember,
it was such a long time ago, murmured Nina. I remember,
went on missus Almyer, fiercely. I wanted to look at
your face again. He said, No. I heard you cry
and jumped into the river. You were his daughter, then
you are my daughter. Now. Never shall you go back
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to that house. You shall never cross this courtyard again. No. No,
Her voice rose almost to a shout. On the other
side of the creek, there was a rustle in the
long grass. The two women heard it and listened for
a while in startled silence. I shall go, said Nina,
in a cautious but intense whisper. What is your hate
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or your revenge to me? She moved towards the house,
missus Almyer clinging to her and trying to pull her back. Stop.
You shall not go, she gasped. Nina pushed away her
mother impatiently and gathered up her skirts for a quick run.
But missus Allmyer ran forward and turned round, facing her
daughter with outstretched arms. If you move another step, she exclaimed,
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breathing quickly, I shall cry out. Do you see those
lights in the big house, There sit two white men,
angry because they cannot have the blood of the man
you love. And in those dark houses, she continued more calmly,
as she pointed towards the settlement, My voice could wake
up men that would lead the orangued, blanded soldiers to him.
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Who was wake for you? She could not see her
daughter's face, but the white figure before her stood silent
and irresolute in the darkness. Missus Almyer pursued her advantage.
Give up your old life. Forget, she said, in entreating tones.
Forget that you ever looked at a white face. Forget
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their words, Forget their thoughts. They speak lies and they
think lies because they despise us that are better than
they are but not so strong. Forget their friendship and
their contempt. Forget their many gods? Girl, why do you
want to remember the past when there was a warrior
and a chief ready to give many lives, his own
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life for one of your smiles. While she spoke, she
pushed gently her daughter towards the canoes, hiding her own fear, anxiety,
and doubt under the flood of passionate words that left
Nina no time to think and no opportunity to protest,
even if she had wished it. But she did not
wish it. Now, at the bottom of that passing desire
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to look again at her father's face, there was no
strong affection. She felt, no scruples, and no remorse at
leaving suddenly that man who sentiment towards herself she could
not understand, She could not even see. There was only
an instinctive clinging to old life, to old habits, to
old faces, that fear of finality which lurks in every
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human breast, and prevents so many heroisms and so many crimes.
For years she had stood between her mother and her father,
the one so strong in her weakness, the other so
weak where he could have been strong. Between those two beings,
so dissimilar, so antagonistic, She stood with mute heart, wondering
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and angry at the fact of her own existence. It
seemed so unreasonable, so humiliating, to be flung there in
that settlement, and to see the days rush by into
the past without a hope, a desire, or an aim
that would justify the life she had to endure in
ever growing weariness. She had little belief and no sympathy
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for her father's dreams. But the savage ravings of her
mother chanced to strike a responsive chord deep down somewhere
in her despairing heart, and she dreamed dreams of her own,
with the persistent absorption of a captive thinking of liberty
within the walls of his prison cell. With the coming
of Dane, she found the road of freedom by obeying
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the voice of the new born impulses, and with surprised joy,
she thought she could read in his eyes the answer
to all the questionings of her heart. She understood now
the reason and the aim of life, and in the
triumphant unveiling of that mystery, she threw away disdainfully her past,
with its sad thoughts, its bitter feelings, and its faint affections,
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now withered and dead, in contact with her fierce passion.
Missus Almeyer unmoored Nina's own canoe, and, straightening herself painfully,
stood paint her in hand. Looking at her daughter quit
she said, get away before the moon rises, while the
river is dark. I am afraid of Abdullah's slaves. The
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wretches prowl in the night often, and might see and
follow you. There are two paddles in the canoe. Nina
approached her mother and hesitatingly touched lightly with her lips
the wrinkled forehead. Missus Allmyer snorted contemptuously in protest against
that tenderness, which she nevertheless feared could be contagious. Shall
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I ever see you again? Mother, murmured Nina, no, said
missus Allmyer, after a short silence. Why should you return
here where it is my fate to die? You will
live far away in splendor and might, And when I
hear of white men driven from the islands. Then I
shall know that you are alive, and that you remember
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my words. I shall always remember, returned Nina earnestly. But
where is my power? And what can I do? Do?
Not let him look too long in your eyes, nor
lay his head on your knees without reminding him that
men should fight before they rest. And if he lingers,
give him his chris yourself, and bid him go as
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the wife of a mighty prince should do when the
enemies are near. Let him slay the white men that
come to us to trade with prayers on their lips
and loaded guns in their hands. Ah, she ended with
a sigh. They are on every sea and on every shore,
and they are very many. She swung the bow of
the canoe towards the river, but did not let go
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the gunwale, keeping her hand on it. In her resolute thoughtfulness,
Nina put the point of the paddle against the bank,
ready to shove off into the stream. What is it, mother,
she asked, in a low voice. Do you hear anything? No,
said missus almyer absently listen, Nina, she continued abruptly, after
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a like pause. In after years, there will be other
women a stifled cry in the boat interrupted her, and
the paddle rattled in the canoe as it slipped from
Nina's hands, which she put out in a protesting gesture.
Missus Allmyer fell on her knees on the bank and
leaned over the gunwales so as to bring her own
face close to her daughters. There will be other women,
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she repeated, firmly. I tell you that because you are
half white and may forget that he is a great chief,
and that such things must be. Hide your anger, and
do not let him see on your face the pain
that will eat your heart. Meet him with joy in
your eyes and wisdom on your lips. For to you
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he will turn in sadness or in doubt. As long
as he looks upon many women, your power will last.
But should there be one one only with whom he
seems to forget you, then I could not live, exclaimed Nina,
covering her face with both her hands. Do not speak
so mother, It could not be, then, went on missus
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Almyer steadily to that woman. Nina show no mercy. She
moved the canoe down towards the stream by the gunwale
and gripped it with both her hands the bow pointing
into the river. Are you crying? She asked sternly of
her daughter, who sat still with covered face. Arise and
take your paddle, for he has waited long enough. And remember, Nina,
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no mercy. And if you must strike, strike with a
steady hand. She put out all her strength, and, swinging
her body over the water, shot the light craft far
into the stream. When she recovered herself from the effort,
she tried vainly to catch a glimpse of the canoe
that seemed to have dissolved suddenly into the white mist
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trailing over the heated waters of the Pantaie. After listening
for a little while intently on her knees, missus Almyer
rose with a deep sigh, while two tears wondered slowly
down her withered cheeks. She wiped them off quickly with
the wisp of her gray hair, as if ashamed of herself,
but could not stifle another loud sigh, for her heart
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was heavy and she suffered much. Being unused to tender emotions.
This time, she fancied she heard a faint voice, like
the echo of her own sigh, and she stopped straining
her ears to catch the slightest sound, and peering apprehensively
towards the bushes near her. Who is there? She asked
in an unsteady voice, while her imagination peopled the solitude
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of the river side with ghost like forms. Who is there?
She repeated faintly. There was no answer, only the voice
of the river, murmuring in sad monotone behind the white veil,
seemed to swell louder for a moment, to die away
again in a soft whisper of Eddie's washing against the bank.
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Missus Allmyer shook her head, as if in answer to
her own thoughts, and walked quickly away from the bushes,
looking to the right and left watchfully. She went straight
towards the cooking shed, observing that the embers of the
fire there glowed more brightly than usual, as if somebody
had been adding fresh fuel to the fires during the evening.
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As she approached Babolachi, who had been squatting in the
warm glow, rose and met her in the shadow outside.
Is she gone? Asked the anxious statesman hastily, Yes, answered
missus Allmyer. What are the white men doing? When did
you leave them? They are sleeping now, I think may
they never wake, exclaimed Babolachi fervently. Oh, but they are devils,
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and made much talk in trouble over that carcass. The
chief threatened me twice with his hand and said he
would have me tied up to a tree. Tie me
up to a tree, me, he repeated, striking his breast violently.
Missus Allmyer laughed tauntingly, and you salamed and asked for mercy.
Men with arms by their side acted otherwise when I
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was young. And where are they in men of your youth,
you mad woman, retorted Babolachi, angrily killed by the Dutch, Ah,
but I shall live to deceive them. A man knows
when to fight and when to tell peaceful lies. You
would know that if you were not a woman. But
missus Allmyer did not seem to hear him. With then
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body and outstretched arm, she appeared to be listening to
some noise behind the shed. There are strange sounds, she whispered,
with evident alarm. I have heard in the air, the
sounds of grief, as of a sigh and weeping. That
was by the river side, and now again I heard where,
asked Babolachi in an altern voice, What did you hear
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close here. It was like a breath long drawn. I
wish I had brought the paper over the body before
it was buried. Yes, ascended Babolachi. But the white men
had him thrown into a hole at once. You know
he found his death on the river. He had a
cheerful and his ghosts may hail the canoes, but would
leave the land alone. Missus Allmyer, who had been craning
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her neck to look round the corner of the shed,
drew back her head. There is nobody there, she said, reassured.
Is it not time for that Rajah wore canoe to
go to the clearing? I have been waiting for it
here for I myself must go, explained Babolachi. I think
I will go over and see what makes them late?
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When will you come? The Rajah gives you refuge. I
shall paddle over before the break of day. I cannot
leave my dollars behind, muttered Missus Allmyer. They separated. Baba
Lachi crossed the courtyard towards the creek to get his canoe,
and Missus Allmyer walked slowly to the house, ascended the plankway,
and passing through the back veranda entered the passage leading
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to the front of the house, but before going in,
she turned in the doorway and looked back at the
empty and silent courtyard, now lit up by the rays
of the rising moon. No sooner she had disappeared, however,
than a vague shape flitted out from amongst the stalks
of the bamboo plantation, darted over the moonlit's face, and
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fell in the darkness at the foot of the verandah.
It might have been the shadow of a driving cloud,
so noiseless and rapid was its passage, but for the
trail of disturbed grass, whose feathery heads trembled and swayed
for a long time in the moonlight, before they rested,
motionless and gleaming like a design of silver sprays embroidered
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on a somber background. Missus Almyer lighted up the coconut lamp, and,
lifting cautiously the red curtain, gazed upon her husband, shading
the light with her hand. All Meyer huddled up in
the chair, one of his arms hanging down, the other
thrown across the lower part of his face, as if
to ward off an invisible enemy. His legs stretched straight out,
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slept heavily unconscious of the unfriendly eyes that looked upon
him in disparaging criticism. At his feet lay the overturned table,
amongst the wreck of crockery and broken bodels. The appearance
as of traces left by a desperate struggle was accentuated
by the chairs, which seemed to have been scattered violently
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all over the place, and now lay about the veranda
with a lamentable aspect of inebrity in their helpless attitudes.
Only Nina's big rocking chair, standing black and motionless on
its high runners, towered above the chaos of demoralized furniture,
unflinchingly dignified, in patient, waiting for its burden. With a
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last scornful look towards the sleeper missus Almyer passed behind
the curtain into her own room. A couple of bats,
encouraged by the darkness and the peaceful state of affairs,
resumed their silent and oblique gambols above Allmyer's head, and
for a long time the profound quiet of the house
was unbroken, save for the deep breathing of the sleeping man,
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and the faint tinkle of silver in the hands of
the woman preparing for flight. In the increasing light of
the moon that had risen now above the night mist.
The objects on the verandah came out strongly, outlined in
black splashes of shadow, with all the uncompromising ugliness of
their disorder, and a caricature of the sleeping Almire appeared
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on the dirty white wash of the wall behind him,
in a grotesquely exaggerated detail of attitude and featured enlarged
to a heroic size. The discontented bats departed in quest
of darker places, and a lizard came out in short,
nervous rushes, and, pleased with the white tablecloth, stepped on
it in breathless immobility that would have suggested sudden death
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had it not been for the melodious call he exchanged
with a less adventurous friend hiding amongst the lumber in
the courtyard. Then the boards in the passage creaked, the
lizard vanished, and Almyre stirred uneasily with a sigh. Slowly
out of the senseless annihilation of drunken's sleep, he was
returned arning through the land of dreams to waking consciousness.
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Almyer's head rolled from shoulder to shoulder in the oppression
of his dream. The heavens had descended upon him like
a heavy mantle, and trailed in starred folds far underneath him,
stars above, stars all round him, and from the stars
under his feet rose a whisper full of entreaties and tears,
and sorrowful faces flitted amongst the clusters of light filling
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the infinite space below. How escaped from the importunity of
lamentable cries and from the look of staring, sad eyes
in the faces which pressed round him till he gasped
for breath under the crushing weight of worlds that hung
over his aching shoulders. Get away? But how if he
attempted to move, he would step off into nothing and
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perish in the crashing fall of that universe of which
he was the only support. And what were the voices
saying urging him to move? Why moved to destruction? Not likely?
The absurdity of the thing filled him with indignation. He
got a firmer foothold and stiffened his muscles and heroic
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resolve to carry his burden to all eternity, And ages
passed in superhuman labor amidst the rush of circling whorls
in the plaintive murmur of sorrowful voices, urging him to
desist before it was too late, filed the mysterious power
that had laid upon him, the giant task seemed at
last to seek his destruction with terror. He felt an
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irresistible hand shaking him by the shoulder, while the chorus
of boices swelled louder into an agonized prayer to go on,
go before it is too late. He felt himself slipping,
losing his balance as something dragged at his legs, and
he fell with a faint cry. He glided out of
the anguish of perishing creation into an imperfect waking that
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seemed to be still under the spell of his dream.
What what? He murmured sleepily, without moving or opening his eyes.
His head still felt heavy, and he had not the
courage to raise his eyelids. In his ears, there still
lingered the sound of entreating whisper Am I awake? Why
do I hear the voices? He argued to himself hazily.
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I cannot get rid of the horrible nightmares. Yet I
have been very drunk. What is it that's shaking me?
I am dreaming, yet I must open my eyes and
be done. With him. I am only half awake, it
is evident. He made an effort to shake off as stupor,
and saw a face close to his glaring at him
with staring eyeballs. He closed his eyes again in a
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mazed horror, and sat up straight in the chair, trembling
in every limb. What was this apparition? His own fancy,
no doubt, his nerves had been much tried the day before,
and then the drink. He would not see it again.
If he had the courage to look, he would look directly,
get a little steadier first. So now he looked. The
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figure of a woman standing in the steely light, her
hand stretched forth in a supplient gesture, confronted him from
the far off end of the verandah, And in the
space between him and the obstinate phantom floated the murmur
of words that fell on his ears, in a jumble
of torturing sentences, the meaning of which escaped the utmost
efforts of his brain. Who spoke the melee words? Who
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ran away? Why? Too late? And too late? For what?
What meant? Those words of hate and love mixed so
strangely together, the ever recurring names falling on his ears
again and again. Nina Dane Dane. Nina Dane was dead,
and Nina was sleeping, unaware of the terrible experience through
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which he was now passing. Was he going to be
tormented forever, sleeping or waking, and have no peace either
night or day? What was the meaning of this? He
shouted the last words aloud. The shadowy woman seemed to
shrink and recede a little from him towards the doorway,
and there was a shriek. Exasperated by the incomprehensible nature
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of his torment, Almyer made a rush upon the apparition,
which eluded his grasp, and he brought up heavily against
the wall, quick as lightning, he turned round and pursued fiercely,
the mysterious figure, fleeing from him with piercing shrieks that
were like fuel to the flames of his anger. Over
the furniture, round the overturned table, and now he had
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a corner behind Nina's chair to the left to the right,
they dodged, the chair rocking madly between them, she setting
out shriek after shriek at every faint, and he, growling
meaningless curses through his hard set teeth. Oh, the fiendish
noise that split his head and seemed to choke his breath.
It would kill him, It must be stopped. An insane
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desire to crush that yelling thing induced him to cast
himself recklessly over the chair with a desperate grab, and
they came down together in the cloud of dust amongst
the splendord wood. The last shriek died out under him
in a faint gurgle, and he had secured the relief
of absolute silence. He looked at the woman's face under him,
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A real woman. He knew her by all that is wonderful, Tamina.
He jumped up, ashamed of his fury, and stood perplexed,
wiping his forehead. The girl struggled to a kneeling posture
and embraced his legs in a frenzied prayer for mercy.
Don't be afraid, he said, raising her, I shall not
hurt you. Why do you come to my house in
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the night? And if you had to come, why not
go behind the curtain where the women sleep? The place
behind the curtain is empty, gasped Tamana, catching her breath
between the words. There are no women in your house
any more. Twine. I saw the old mem go away
before I tried to wake you. I did not want
your women. I wanted you old men, repeated Olmyer, Do
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you mean my wife? She not head, but of my daughter.
You are not afraid, said Almyer. Have you not heard me?
She exclaimed? Have I not spoken for a long time?
When you lay there with eyes half open? She is
gone too. I was asleep. Can you not tell what
a man is sleeping? And went awake? Sometimes, answered Tamana
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in a low voice. Sometimes the spirit lingers close to
a sleeping body and may hear. I spoke for a
long time before I touched you, and I spoke softly
for fear it it would depart at a sudden noise
and leave you sleeping forever. I took you by the
shoulder only when you began to mutter words I could
not understand. Have you not heard then? And do you
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know nothing nothing of what you said? What is it?
Tell again if you want me to know. He took
her by the shoulder and led her, unresisting to the
front of the verandah into a stronger light. She wrung
her hands with such an appearance of grief that he
began to be alarmed. Speak. He said, you made noise
enough to wake even dead then, and yet nobody living came,
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he added to himself, in an uneasy whisper. Are you mute? Speet?
He repeated, in a rush of words, which broke out
after a short struggle from her trembling lips. She told
him the tale of Nina's love and her own jealousy.
Several times. He looked angrily into her face and told
her to be silent, But he could not stop the
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sounds that seemed to him to run out in a
hot stream, swirl about his feet, and rise in scalding
waves about him, higher, higher, drowning his heart, touching his lips,
with a feel of melted lead, blotting out his sight,
and scorching vapor closing over his head, merciless and deadly.
When she spoke of the deception as the Dane's death,
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of which he had been the victim only that day,
he glanced again at her with terrible eyes and made
her falter for a second. But he turned away directly,
and his face suddenly lost all expression in a stony stare.
Far away over the river Ah, the river his old
friend and his old enemy, speaking always with the same voice,
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as he runs from year to year, bringing fortune or disappointment,
happiness or pain upon the same varying but unchained surface
of glancing currents and swirling eddies. For many years he
had listened to the passionless and soothing murmur that sometimes
was the song of hope, at times the song of triumph,
of encouragement, more often the whisper of consolation that spoke
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of better days to come. For so many years, so
many years. And now to the accompaniment of that murmur,
he listened to the slow and painful beating of his heart.
He listened attentively, wondering at the regularity of its beats.
He began to count mechanically, one, two, Why count at
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the next beat? It must stop. No heart could suffer
so and beat so steadily for long, those regular strokes,
as of a muffled hammer that rang in his ears.
Must stop soon, still beating, unceasing and cruel. No man
could bear this? And is this the last? Or will
the next one be the last? How much longer, oh God,
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how much longer? His hand weighed heavier unconsciously on the
girl's shoulder, and she spoke the last words of his story.
Crouching at his feet with tears of pain and shame
and anger. Was her revenge to fail her? This white
man was like a senseless stone. Too late, too late,
And you saw her go. Almeyer's voice sounded harshly above
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her head. Did I not tell you she sobbed, trying
to wriggle gently out from under his grip. Did I
not tell you that I saw the witch woman push
the canoe. I lay hidden in the grass and heard
all the words she that we used to call the
white men. Wanted to return to look at your face.
But the witch woman forbade her, and she sank lower
(30:59):
yet on her elbow, turning half round under the downward
push of the heavy hand. Her face lifted up to
him with spiteful eyes, and she obeyed. She shouted out
in a half laughed, half cry of pain. Let me go, twan,
why are you angry with me? Hasten, or you shall
be too late to show your anger to the deceitful woman.
(31:19):
All Meyer dragged her up to her feet and looked
close into her face while she struggled, turning her head
away from his wild stare Who sent you here to
torment me, he asked violently. I do not believe you.
You lie. He straightened his arms suddenly and flung her
across the veranda towards the doorway, where she lay, immobile
(31:39):
and silent, as if she had left her life in
his grasp. A dark heap without a sound or a stir.
Oh Nina, whispered Almyer, in a voice in which reproach
and love spoke together in pain tenderness. Oh Nina, I
do not believe. A light draft from the river ran
over the court yard in a way wave of bowing grass,
(32:01):
and entering the verandah touched Almeyer's forehead with its cool
breath in a caress of infinite pity. The curtain in
the women's doorway blew out and instantly collapsed. With startling helplessness.
He stared at the fluttering stuff. Nina cried, almayer, where
are you, Nina? The wind passed out of the empty
(32:22):
house in a tremulous sigh, and all was still all
Meyer hid his face in his hands as if to
shut out a lowesome sight. When hearing a slight rustle,
he uncovered his eyes. The dark heap by the door
was gone. End of chapter ten recording by Tom Weiss,
Tom's audiobooks dot com.
By Tom Waits, chapter ten, it is said, at last,
said Nina to her mother, pointing towards the hills behind
which the sun had sunk. Listen, Mother, I am going
now to Blangi's creek, and if I should never return,
she interrupted herself, and something like doubt dimmed for a
(00:20):
moment the fire of suppressed exultation that had glowed in
her eyes and had illuminated the serene impassiveness of her
features with a ray of eager life. During all that
long day of excitement, the day of joy and anxiety,
of hope and terror, a vague grief, and in distinct delight,
while the sun shone with that dazzling light in which
(00:42):
her love was born and grew till it possessed her
whole being. She was kept firm in her unwavering resolve
by the mysterious whisperings of desire, which filled her heart
with impatient longing for the darkness that would mean the
end of danger and strife, the beginning of happiness, feeling
of love, the completeness of life it had set. At last,
(01:06):
the short tropical twilight went out before she could draw
the long breath of relief. And now the sudden darkness
seemed to be full of menacing voices, calling upon her
to rush headlong into the unknown, to be true to
her own impulses, to give herself up to the passion
she had evoked and shared. He was waiting in the
(01:27):
solitude of the secluded clearing, in the vast silence of
the forest. He was waiting alone, a fugitive in fear
of his life. Indifferent to his danger, he was waiting
for her. It was for her only that he had come.
And now, as the time approached when he should have
his reward, she asked herself with dismay, what meant that
(01:50):
chilling doubt of her own will and of her own desire.
With an effort she shook off the fear of the
passing weakness. He should have his reward, her woman's love
and her woman's honor. Overcame the faltering distrust of that
unknown future waiting for her in the darkness of the river. No,
you will not return, muttered missus Almyer prophetically. Without you,
(02:13):
he will not go. And if he remains here, She
waved her hand towards the lights of Olmyer's folly, and
the unfinished sentence died out in a threatening murmur. The
two women had met behind the house and now were
walking slowly together towards the creek where all the canoes
were moored. Arrived at the fringe of bushes, they stopped
(02:35):
by a common impulse, and missus Olmyer, laying her hand
on her daughter's arm, tried in vain to look close
into the girl's averted face. When she attempted to speak,
her first words were lost in a stifled sob that
sounded strangely coming from that woman, who, of all human passions,
seemed to know only those of anger and hate. You
(02:57):
are going away to be a great manet, she said
at last, in a voice that was steady enough now,
and if you be wise, you shall have much power
that will endure many days and even last into your
old age. What have I been a slave all my life?
And I have cooked rice for a man who had
(03:18):
no courage and no wisdom. Hi aye, even I was
given in gift by a chief and a warrior to
a man that was neither high high. She wailed to herself, softly,
lamenting the lost possibilities of murder and mischief that could
have fallen to her lot had she been mate it
with the congenial spirit. Nina bent down over Missus Allmyer's
(03:41):
slight form and scanned attentively under the stars that had
rushed out on the black sky, and now hung breathless
over that strange party her mother's shriveled features, and looked
close into the sunken eyes that could see into her
own dark future. By the light of a long and
painful experience. Again she felt herself fascinated as of old,
(04:03):
by her mother's exalted mood and by the oracular certainty
of expression, which, together with their fits of violence, had
contributed not a little to the reputation for witchcraft she
enjoyed in the settlement. I was a slave, and you
shall be a queen, went on missus Almyer, looking straight
before her. But remember men's strength and their weakness. Tremble
(04:26):
before his anger, so that he may see your fear
in the light of day. But in your heart you
may laugh, for after sunset he is your slave, a slave,
he the master of life. You do not know him. Mother,
missus Almyer, condescended to laugh contemptuously. You speak like a
fool of a white woman, she exclaimed, What do you
(04:48):
know of men's anger and of men's love. Have you
watched the sleep of men weary of dealing death? Have
you fell about you the strong arm that could drive
a chrisp deep into a beating heart. Yah, you are
a white woman and ought to pray to a woman God.
Why do you say this? I have listened to your
words so long that I have forgotten my old life.
(05:09):
If I was white, would I stand here? Let me
to go, Mother, I shall return to the house and
look once more at my father's face. No, said missus
Almyer violently. No. He sleeps now, the sleep of gin,
and if you went back, he might awake and see you. No,
he shall never see you. When the terrible old man
(05:31):
took you away from me when you were little, you remember,
it was such a long time ago, murmured Nina. I remember,
went on missus Almyer, fiercely. I wanted to look at
your face again. He said, No. I heard you cry
and jumped into the river. You were his daughter, then
you are my daughter. Now. Never shall you go back
(05:53):
to that house. You shall never cross this courtyard again. No. No,
Her voice rose almost to a shout. On the other
side of the creek, there was a rustle in the
long grass. The two women heard it and listened for
a while in startled silence. I shall go, said Nina,
in a cautious but intense whisper. What is your hate
(06:15):
or your revenge to me? She moved towards the house,
missus Almyer clinging to her and trying to pull her back. Stop.
You shall not go, she gasped. Nina pushed away her
mother impatiently and gathered up her skirts for a quick run.
But missus Allmyer ran forward and turned round, facing her
daughter with outstretched arms. If you move another step, she exclaimed,
(06:38):
breathing quickly, I shall cry out. Do you see those
lights in the big house, There sit two white men,
angry because they cannot have the blood of the man
you love. And in those dark houses, she continued more calmly,
as she pointed towards the settlement, My voice could wake
up men that would lead the orangued, blanded soldiers to him.
(06:59):
Who was wake for you? She could not see her
daughter's face, but the white figure before her stood silent
and irresolute in the darkness. Missus Almyer pursued her advantage.
Give up your old life. Forget, she said, in entreating tones.
Forget that you ever looked at a white face. Forget
(07:19):
their words, Forget their thoughts. They speak lies and they
think lies because they despise us that are better than
they are but not so strong. Forget their friendship and
their contempt. Forget their many gods? Girl, why do you
want to remember the past when there was a warrior
and a chief ready to give many lives, his own
(07:40):
life for one of your smiles. While she spoke, she
pushed gently her daughter towards the canoes, hiding her own fear, anxiety,
and doubt under the flood of passionate words that left
Nina no time to think and no opportunity to protest,
even if she had wished it. But she did not
wish it. Now, at the bottom of that passing desire
(08:02):
to look again at her father's face, there was no
strong affection. She felt, no scruples, and no remorse at
leaving suddenly that man who sentiment towards herself she could
not understand, She could not even see. There was only
an instinctive clinging to old life, to old habits, to
old faces, that fear of finality which lurks in every
(08:24):
human breast, and prevents so many heroisms and so many crimes.
For years she had stood between her mother and her father,
the one so strong in her weakness, the other so
weak where he could have been strong. Between those two beings,
so dissimilar, so antagonistic, She stood with mute heart, wondering
(08:46):
and angry at the fact of her own existence. It
seemed so unreasonable, so humiliating, to be flung there in
that settlement, and to see the days rush by into
the past without a hope, a desire, or an aim
that would justify the life she had to endure in
ever growing weariness. She had little belief and no sympathy
(09:07):
for her father's dreams. But the savage ravings of her
mother chanced to strike a responsive chord deep down somewhere
in her despairing heart, and she dreamed dreams of her own,
with the persistent absorption of a captive thinking of liberty
within the walls of his prison cell. With the coming
of Dane, she found the road of freedom by obeying
(09:28):
the voice of the new born impulses, and with surprised joy,
she thought she could read in his eyes the answer
to all the questionings of her heart. She understood now
the reason and the aim of life, and in the
triumphant unveiling of that mystery, she threw away disdainfully her past,
with its sad thoughts, its bitter feelings, and its faint affections,
(09:52):
now withered and dead, in contact with her fierce passion.
Missus Almeyer unmoored Nina's own canoe, and, straightening herself painfully,
stood paint her in hand. Looking at her daughter quit
she said, get away before the moon rises, while the
river is dark. I am afraid of Abdullah's slaves. The
(10:12):
wretches prowl in the night often, and might see and
follow you. There are two paddles in the canoe. Nina
approached her mother and hesitatingly touched lightly with her lips
the wrinkled forehead. Missus Allmyer snorted contemptuously in protest against
that tenderness, which she nevertheless feared could be contagious. Shall
(10:35):
I ever see you again? Mother, murmured Nina, no, said
missus Allmyer, after a short silence. Why should you return
here where it is my fate to die? You will
live far away in splendor and might, And when I
hear of white men driven from the islands. Then I
shall know that you are alive, and that you remember
(10:55):
my words. I shall always remember, returned Nina earnestly. But
where is my power? And what can I do? Do?
Not let him look too long in your eyes, nor
lay his head on your knees without reminding him that
men should fight before they rest. And if he lingers,
give him his chris yourself, and bid him go as
(11:15):
the wife of a mighty prince should do when the
enemies are near. Let him slay the white men that
come to us to trade with prayers on their lips
and loaded guns in their hands. Ah, she ended with
a sigh. They are on every sea and on every shore,
and they are very many. She swung the bow of
the canoe towards the river, but did not let go
(11:38):
the gunwale, keeping her hand on it. In her resolute thoughtfulness,
Nina put the point of the paddle against the bank,
ready to shove off into the stream. What is it, mother,
she asked, in a low voice. Do you hear anything? No,
said missus almyer absently listen, Nina, she continued abruptly, after
(11:59):
a like pause. In after years, there will be other
women a stifled cry in the boat interrupted her, and
the paddle rattled in the canoe as it slipped from
Nina's hands, which she put out in a protesting gesture.
Missus Allmyer fell on her knees on the bank and
leaned over the gunwales so as to bring her own
face close to her daughters. There will be other women,
(12:23):
she repeated, firmly. I tell you that because you are
half white and may forget that he is a great chief,
and that such things must be. Hide your anger, and
do not let him see on your face the pain
that will eat your heart. Meet him with joy in
your eyes and wisdom on your lips. For to you
(12:44):
he will turn in sadness or in doubt. As long
as he looks upon many women, your power will last.
But should there be one one only with whom he
seems to forget you, then I could not live, exclaimed Nina,
covering her face with both her hands. Do not speak
so mother, It could not be, then, went on missus
(13:05):
Almyer steadily to that woman. Nina show no mercy. She
moved the canoe down towards the stream by the gunwale
and gripped it with both her hands the bow pointing
into the river. Are you crying? She asked sternly of
her daughter, who sat still with covered face. Arise and
take your paddle, for he has waited long enough. And remember, Nina,
(13:28):
no mercy. And if you must strike, strike with a
steady hand. She put out all her strength, and, swinging
her body over the water, shot the light craft far
into the stream. When she recovered herself from the effort,
she tried vainly to catch a glimpse of the canoe
that seemed to have dissolved suddenly into the white mist
(13:48):
trailing over the heated waters of the Pantaie. After listening
for a little while intently on her knees, missus Almyer
rose with a deep sigh, while two tears wondered slowly
down her withered cheeks. She wiped them off quickly with
the wisp of her gray hair, as if ashamed of herself,
but could not stifle another loud sigh, for her heart
(14:10):
was heavy and she suffered much. Being unused to tender emotions.
This time, she fancied she heard a faint voice, like
the echo of her own sigh, and she stopped straining
her ears to catch the slightest sound, and peering apprehensively
towards the bushes near her. Who is there? She asked
in an unsteady voice, while her imagination peopled the solitude
(14:33):
of the river side with ghost like forms. Who is there?
She repeated faintly. There was no answer, only the voice
of the river, murmuring in sad monotone behind the white veil,
seemed to swell louder for a moment, to die away
again in a soft whisper of Eddie's washing against the bank.
(14:54):
Missus Allmyer shook her head, as if in answer to
her own thoughts, and walked quickly away from the bushes,
looking to the right and left watchfully. She went straight
towards the cooking shed, observing that the embers of the
fire there glowed more brightly than usual, as if somebody
had been adding fresh fuel to the fires during the evening.
(15:14):
As she approached Babolachi, who had been squatting in the
warm glow, rose and met her in the shadow outside.
Is she gone? Asked the anxious statesman hastily, Yes, answered
missus Allmyer. What are the white men doing? When did
you leave them? They are sleeping now, I think may
they never wake, exclaimed Babolachi fervently. Oh, but they are devils,
(15:38):
and made much talk in trouble over that carcass. The
chief threatened me twice with his hand and said he
would have me tied up to a tree. Tie me
up to a tree, me, he repeated, striking his breast violently.
Missus Allmyer laughed tauntingly, and you salamed and asked for mercy.
Men with arms by their side acted otherwise when I
(16:00):
was young. And where are they in men of your youth,
you mad woman, retorted Babolachi, angrily killed by the Dutch, Ah,
but I shall live to deceive them. A man knows
when to fight and when to tell peaceful lies. You
would know that if you were not a woman. But
missus Allmyer did not seem to hear him. With then
(16:21):
body and outstretched arm, she appeared to be listening to
some noise behind the shed. There are strange sounds, she whispered,
with evident alarm. I have heard in the air, the
sounds of grief, as of a sigh and weeping. That
was by the river side, and now again I heard where,
asked Babolachi in an altern voice, What did you hear
(16:44):
close here. It was like a breath long drawn. I
wish I had brought the paper over the body before
it was buried. Yes, ascended Babolachi. But the white men
had him thrown into a hole at once. You know
he found his death on the river. He had a
cheerful and his ghosts may hail the canoes, but would
leave the land alone. Missus Allmyer, who had been craning
(17:06):
her neck to look round the corner of the shed,
drew back her head. There is nobody there, she said, reassured.
Is it not time for that Rajah wore canoe to
go to the clearing? I have been waiting for it
here for I myself must go, explained Babolachi. I think
I will go over and see what makes them late?
(17:27):
When will you come? The Rajah gives you refuge. I
shall paddle over before the break of day. I cannot
leave my dollars behind, muttered Missus Allmyer. They separated. Baba
Lachi crossed the courtyard towards the creek to get his canoe,
and Missus Allmyer walked slowly to the house, ascended the plankway,
and passing through the back veranda entered the passage leading
(17:49):
to the front of the house, but before going in,
she turned in the doorway and looked back at the
empty and silent courtyard, now lit up by the rays
of the rising moon. No sooner she had disappeared, however,
than a vague shape flitted out from amongst the stalks
of the bamboo plantation, darted over the moonlit's face, and
(18:10):
fell in the darkness at the foot of the verandah.
It might have been the shadow of a driving cloud,
so noiseless and rapid was its passage, but for the
trail of disturbed grass, whose feathery heads trembled and swayed
for a long time in the moonlight, before they rested,
motionless and gleaming like a design of silver sprays embroidered
(18:31):
on a somber background. Missus Almyer lighted up the coconut lamp, and,
lifting cautiously the red curtain, gazed upon her husband, shading
the light with her hand. All Meyer huddled up in
the chair, one of his arms hanging down, the other
thrown across the lower part of his face, as if
to ward off an invisible enemy. His legs stretched straight out,
(18:54):
slept heavily unconscious of the unfriendly eyes that looked upon
him in disparaging criticism. At his feet lay the overturned table,
amongst the wreck of crockery and broken bodels. The appearance
as of traces left by a desperate struggle was accentuated
by the chairs, which seemed to have been scattered violently
(19:14):
all over the place, and now lay about the veranda
with a lamentable aspect of inebrity in their helpless attitudes.
Only Nina's big rocking chair, standing black and motionless on
its high runners, towered above the chaos of demoralized furniture,
unflinchingly dignified, in patient, waiting for its burden. With a
(19:35):
last scornful look towards the sleeper missus Almyer passed behind
the curtain into her own room. A couple of bats,
encouraged by the darkness and the peaceful state of affairs,
resumed their silent and oblique gambols above Allmyer's head, and
for a long time the profound quiet of the house
was unbroken, save for the deep breathing of the sleeping man,
(19:57):
and the faint tinkle of silver in the hands of
the woman preparing for flight. In the increasing light of
the moon that had risen now above the night mist.
The objects on the verandah came out strongly, outlined in
black splashes of shadow, with all the uncompromising ugliness of
their disorder, and a caricature of the sleeping Almire appeared
(20:17):
on the dirty white wash of the wall behind him,
in a grotesquely exaggerated detail of attitude and featured enlarged
to a heroic size. The discontented bats departed in quest
of darker places, and a lizard came out in short,
nervous rushes, and, pleased with the white tablecloth, stepped on
it in breathless immobility that would have suggested sudden death
(20:41):
had it not been for the melodious call he exchanged
with a less adventurous friend hiding amongst the lumber in
the courtyard. Then the boards in the passage creaked, the
lizard vanished, and Almyre stirred uneasily with a sigh. Slowly
out of the senseless annihilation of drunken's sleep, he was
returned arning through the land of dreams to waking consciousness.
(21:03):
Almyer's head rolled from shoulder to shoulder in the oppression
of his dream. The heavens had descended upon him like
a heavy mantle, and trailed in starred folds far underneath him,
stars above, stars all round him, and from the stars
under his feet rose a whisper full of entreaties and tears,
and sorrowful faces flitted amongst the clusters of light filling
(21:27):
the infinite space below. How escaped from the importunity of
lamentable cries and from the look of staring, sad eyes
in the faces which pressed round him till he gasped
for breath under the crushing weight of worlds that hung
over his aching shoulders. Get away? But how if he
attempted to move, he would step off into nothing and
(21:48):
perish in the crashing fall of that universe of which
he was the only support. And what were the voices
saying urging him to move? Why moved to destruction? Not likely?
The absurdity of the thing filled him with indignation. He
got a firmer foothold and stiffened his muscles and heroic
(22:08):
resolve to carry his burden to all eternity, And ages
passed in superhuman labor amidst the rush of circling whorls
in the plaintive murmur of sorrowful voices, urging him to
desist before it was too late, filed the mysterious power
that had laid upon him, the giant task seemed at
last to seek his destruction with terror. He felt an
(22:31):
irresistible hand shaking him by the shoulder, while the chorus
of boices swelled louder into an agonized prayer to go on,
go before it is too late. He felt himself slipping,
losing his balance as something dragged at his legs, and
he fell with a faint cry. He glided out of
the anguish of perishing creation into an imperfect waking that
(22:53):
seemed to be still under the spell of his dream.
What what? He murmured sleepily, without moving or opening his eyes.
His head still felt heavy, and he had not the
courage to raise his eyelids. In his ears, there still
lingered the sound of entreating whisper Am I awake? Why
do I hear the voices? He argued to himself hazily.
(23:16):
I cannot get rid of the horrible nightmares. Yet I
have been very drunk. What is it that's shaking me?
I am dreaming, yet I must open my eyes and
be done. With him. I am only half awake, it
is evident. He made an effort to shake off as stupor,
and saw a face close to his glaring at him
with staring eyeballs. He closed his eyes again in a
(23:39):
mazed horror, and sat up straight in the chair, trembling
in every limb. What was this apparition? His own fancy,
no doubt, his nerves had been much tried the day before,
and then the drink. He would not see it again.
If he had the courage to look, he would look directly,
get a little steadier first. So now he looked. The
(24:03):
figure of a woman standing in the steely light, her
hand stretched forth in a supplient gesture, confronted him from
the far off end of the verandah, And in the
space between him and the obstinate phantom floated the murmur
of words that fell on his ears, in a jumble
of torturing sentences, the meaning of which escaped the utmost
efforts of his brain. Who spoke the melee words? Who
(24:27):
ran away? Why? Too late? And too late? For what?
What meant? Those words of hate and love mixed so
strangely together, the ever recurring names falling on his ears
again and again. Nina Dane Dane. Nina Dane was dead,
and Nina was sleeping, unaware of the terrible experience through
(24:47):
which he was now passing. Was he going to be
tormented forever, sleeping or waking, and have no peace either
night or day? What was the meaning of this? He
shouted the last words aloud. The shadowy woman seemed to
shrink and recede a little from him towards the doorway,
and there was a shriek. Exasperated by the incomprehensible nature
(25:10):
of his torment, Almyer made a rush upon the apparition,
which eluded his grasp, and he brought up heavily against
the wall, quick as lightning, he turned round and pursued fiercely,
the mysterious figure, fleeing from him with piercing shrieks that
were like fuel to the flames of his anger. Over
the furniture, round the overturned table, and now he had
(25:30):
a corner behind Nina's chair to the left to the right,
they dodged, the chair rocking madly between them, she setting
out shriek after shriek at every faint, and he, growling
meaningless curses through his hard set teeth. Oh, the fiendish
noise that split his head and seemed to choke his breath.
It would kill him, It must be stopped. An insane
(25:52):
desire to crush that yelling thing induced him to cast
himself recklessly over the chair with a desperate grab, and
they came down together in the cloud of dust amongst
the splendord wood. The last shriek died out under him
in a faint gurgle, and he had secured the relief
of absolute silence. He looked at the woman's face under him,
(26:13):
A real woman. He knew her by all that is wonderful, Tamina.
He jumped up, ashamed of his fury, and stood perplexed,
wiping his forehead. The girl struggled to a kneeling posture
and embraced his legs in a frenzied prayer for mercy.
Don't be afraid, he said, raising her, I shall not
hurt you. Why do you come to my house in
(26:35):
the night? And if you had to come, why not
go behind the curtain where the women sleep? The place
behind the curtain is empty, gasped Tamana, catching her breath
between the words. There are no women in your house
any more. Twine. I saw the old mem go away
before I tried to wake you. I did not want
your women. I wanted you old men, repeated Olmyer, Do
(26:58):
you mean my wife? She not head, but of my daughter.
You are not afraid, said Almyer. Have you not heard me?
She exclaimed? Have I not spoken for a long time?
When you lay there with eyes half open? She is
gone too. I was asleep. Can you not tell what
a man is sleeping? And went awake? Sometimes, answered Tamana
(27:19):
in a low voice. Sometimes the spirit lingers close to
a sleeping body and may hear. I spoke for a
long time before I touched you, and I spoke softly
for fear it it would depart at a sudden noise
and leave you sleeping forever. I took you by the
shoulder only when you began to mutter words I could
not understand. Have you not heard then? And do you
(27:40):
know nothing nothing of what you said? What is it?
Tell again if you want me to know. He took
her by the shoulder and led her, unresisting to the
front of the verandah into a stronger light. She wrung
her hands with such an appearance of grief that he
began to be alarmed. Speak. He said, you made noise
enough to wake even dead then, and yet nobody living came,
(28:03):
he added to himself, in an uneasy whisper. Are you mute? Speet?
He repeated, in a rush of words, which broke out
after a short struggle from her trembling lips. She told
him the tale of Nina's love and her own jealousy.
Several times. He looked angrily into her face and told
her to be silent, But he could not stop the
(28:24):
sounds that seemed to him to run out in a
hot stream, swirl about his feet, and rise in scalding
waves about him, higher, higher, drowning his heart, touching his lips,
with a feel of melted lead, blotting out his sight,
and scorching vapor closing over his head, merciless and deadly.
When she spoke of the deception as the Dane's death,
(28:46):
of which he had been the victim only that day,
he glanced again at her with terrible eyes and made
her falter for a second. But he turned away directly,
and his face suddenly lost all expression in a stony stare.
Far away over the river Ah, the river his old
friend and his old enemy, speaking always with the same voice,
(29:08):
as he runs from year to year, bringing fortune or disappointment,
happiness or pain upon the same varying but unchained surface
of glancing currents and swirling eddies. For many years he
had listened to the passionless and soothing murmur that sometimes
was the song of hope, at times the song of triumph,
of encouragement, more often the whisper of consolation that spoke
(29:33):
of better days to come. For so many years, so
many years. And now to the accompaniment of that murmur,
he listened to the slow and painful beating of his heart.
He listened attentively, wondering at the regularity of its beats.
He began to count mechanically, one, two, Why count at
(29:54):
the next beat? It must stop. No heart could suffer
so and beat so steadily for long, those regular strokes,
as of a muffled hammer that rang in his ears.
Must stop soon, still beating, unceasing and cruel. No man
could bear this? And is this the last? Or will
the next one be the last? How much longer, oh God,
(30:15):
how much longer? His hand weighed heavier unconsciously on the
girl's shoulder, and she spoke the last words of his story.
Crouching at his feet with tears of pain and shame
and anger. Was her revenge to fail her? This white
man was like a senseless stone. Too late, too late,
And you saw her go. Almeyer's voice sounded harshly above
(30:38):
her head. Did I not tell you she sobbed, trying
to wriggle gently out from under his grip. Did I
not tell you that I saw the witch woman push
the canoe. I lay hidden in the grass and heard
all the words she that we used to call the
white men. Wanted to return to look at your face.
But the witch woman forbade her, and she sank lower
(30:59):
yet on her elbow, turning half round under the downward
push of the heavy hand. Her face lifted up to
him with spiteful eyes, and she obeyed. She shouted out
in a half laughed, half cry of pain. Let me go, twan,
why are you angry with me? Hasten, or you shall
be too late to show your anger to the deceitful woman.
(31:19):
All Meyer dragged her up to her feet and looked
close into her face while she struggled, turning her head
away from his wild stare Who sent you here to
torment me, he asked violently. I do not believe you.
You lie. He straightened his arms suddenly and flung her
across the veranda towards the doorway, where she lay, immobile
(31:39):
and silent, as if she had left her life in
his grasp. A dark heap without a sound or a stir.
Oh Nina, whispered Almyer, in a voice in which reproach
and love spoke together in pain tenderness. Oh Nina, I
do not believe. A light draft from the river ran
over the court yard in a way wave of bowing grass,
(32:01):
and entering the verandah touched Almeyer's forehead with its cool
breath in a caress of infinite pity. The curtain in
the women's doorway blew out and instantly collapsed. With startling helplessness.
He stared at the fluttering stuff. Nina cried, almayer, where
are you, Nina? The wind passed out of the empty
(32:22):
house in a tremulous sigh, and all was still all
Meyer hid his face in his hands as if to
shut out a lowesome sight. When hearing a slight rustle,
he uncovered his eyes. The dark heap by the door
was gone. End of chapter ten recording by Tom Weiss,
Tom's audiobooks dot com.
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