ivity seemed more complete, terrible, and
final--without the hope of any redemption. He wondered at the wickedness
of Providence that had made him what he was; that, worse still,
permitted such a creature as Almayer to live. He had done his duty by
going to him. Why did he not understand? All men were fools. He gave
him his chance. The fellow did not see it. It was hard, very hard on
himself--Willems. He wanted to take her from amongst her own people.
That's why he had condescended to go to Almayer. He examined himself.
With a sinking heart he thought that really he could not--somehow--live
without her. It was terrible and sweet. He remembered the first days.
Her appearance, her face, her smile, her eyes, her words. A savage
woman! Yet he perceived that he could think of nothing else but of the
three days of their separation, of the few hours since their reunion.
Very well. If he could not take her away, then he would go to her. . . .
He had, for a moment, a wicked pleasure in the thought that what he had
done could not be undone. He had given himself up. He felt proud of it.
He was ready to face anything, do anything. He cared for nothing, for
nobody. He thought himself very fearless, but as a matter of fact he was
only drunk; drunk with the poison of passionate memories.

He stretched his hands over the fire, looked round and called out--

"Aissa!"

She must have been near, for she appeared at once within the light of
the fire. The upper part of her body was wrapped up in the thick folds
of a head covering which was pulled down over her brow, and one end of
it thrown across from shoulder to shoulder hid the lower part of her
face. Only her eyes were visible--sombre and gleaming like a starry
night.

Willems, looking at this strange, muffled figure, felt exasperated,
amazed and helpless. The ex-confidential clerk of the rich Hudig would
hug to his breast settled conceptions of respectable conduct. He sought
refuge within his ideas of propriety from the dismal mangroves, from
the darkness of the forests and of the heathen souls of the savages that
were his masters. She looked like an animated package of cheap cotton
goods! It made him furious. She had disguised herself so because a man
of her race was near! He told her not to do it, and she did not obey.
Would his ideas ever change so as to agree with her own notions of what
was becoming, proper and respectable? He was really afraid they
would, in time. It seemed to