Two days afterwards he knew. Mr. Vinck, hearing the rattle13 of the door-handle, jumped up from his desk — where he had been tremulously listening to the loud voices in the private office — and buried his face in the big safe with nervous haste. For the last time Willems passed through the little green door leading to Hudig’s sanctum, which, during the past half-hour, might have been taken — from the fiendish noise within — for the cavern14 of some wild beast. Willems’ troubled eyes took in the quick impression of men and things as he came out from the place of his humiliation15. He saw the scared expression of the punkah boy; the Chinamen tellers16 sitting on their heels with unmovable faces turned up blankly towards him while their arrested hands hovered17 over the little piles of bright guilders ranged on the floor; Mr. Vinck’s shoulder-blades with the fleshy rims18 of two red ears above. He saw the long avenue of gin cases stretching from where he stood to the arched doorway19 beyond which he would be able to breathe perhaps. A thin rope’s end lay across his path and he saw it distinctly, yet stumbled heavily over it as if it had been a bar of iron. Then he found himself in the street at last, but could not find air enough to fill his lungs. He walked towards his home, gasping20.
As the sound of Hudig’s insults that lingered in his ears grew fainter by the lapse21 of time, the feeling of shame was replaced slowly by a passion of anger against himself and still more against the stupid concourse of circumstances that had driven him into his idiotic22 indiscretion. Idiotic indiscretion; that is how he defined his guilt23 to himself. Could there be anything worse from the point of view of his undeniable cleverness? What a fatal aberration24 of an acute mind! He did not recognize himself there. He must have been mad. That’s it. A sudden gust25 of madness. And now the work of long years was destroyed utterly26. What would become of him?
Before he could answer that question he found himself in the garden before his house, Hudig’s wedding gift. He looked at it with a vague surprise to find it there. His past was so utterly gone from him that the dwelling27 which belonged to it appeared to him incongruous standing28 there intact, neat, and cheerful in the sunshine of the hot afternoon. The house was a pretty little structure all doors and windows, surrounded on all sides by the deep verandah supported on slender columns clothed in the green foliage29 of creepers, which also fringed the overhanging eaves of the high-pitched roof. Slowly, Willems mounted the dozen steps that led to the verandah. He paused at every step. He must tell his wife. He felt frightened at the prospect30, and his alarm dismayed him. Frightened to face her! Nothing could give him a better measure of the greatness of the change around him, and in him. Another man — and another life with the faith in himself gone. He could not be worth much if he was afraid to face that woman.
He dared not enter the house through the open door of the dining-room, but stood irresolute31 by the little work-table where trailed a white piece of calico, with a needle stuck in it, as if the work had been left hurriedly. The pink-crested cockatoo started, on his appearance, into clumsy activity and began to climb laboriously32 up and down his perch33, calling “Joanna” with indistinct loudness and a persistent34 screech35 that prolonged the last syllable36 of the name as if in a peal37 of insane laughter. The screen in the doorway moved gently once or twice in the breeze, and each time Willems started slightly, expecting his wife, but he never lifted his eyes, although straining his ears for the sound of her footsteps. Gradually he lost himself in his thoughts, in the endless speculation as to the manner in which she would receive his news — and his orders. In this preoccupationhe almost forgot the fear of her presence. No doubt she will cry, she will lament38, she will be helpless and frightened and passive as ever. And he would have to drag that limp weight on and on through the darkness of a spoiled life. Horrible! Of course he could not abandon her and the child to certain misery39 or possible starvation. The wife and the child of Willems. Willems the successful, the smart; Willems the conf. . . . Pah! And what was Willems now? Willems the. . . . He strangled the half-born thought, and cleared his throat to stifle40 a groan41. Ah! Won’t they talk to-night in the billiard-room — his world, where he had been first — all those men to whom he had been so superciliously42 condescending43. Won’t they talk with surprise, and affected44 regret, and grave faces, and wise nods. Some of them owed him money, but he never pressed anybody. Not he. Willems, the prince of good fellows, they called him. And now they will rejoice, no doubt, at his downfall. A crowd of imbeciles. In his abasement45 he was yet aware of his superiority over those fellows, who were merely honest or simply not found out yet. A crowd of imbeciles! He shook his fist at the evoked46 image of his friends, and the startled parrot fluttered its wings and shrieked47 in desperate fright.
In a short glance upwards48 Willems saw his wife come round the corner of the house. He lowered his eyelids49 quickly, and waited silently till she came near and stood on the other side of the little table. He would not look at her face, but he could see the red dressing-gown he knew so well. She trailed through life in that red dressing-gown, with its row of dirty blue bows down the front, stained, and hooked on awry50; a torn flounce at the bottom following her like a snake as she moved languidly about, with her hair negligently51 caught up, and a tangled52 wisp straggling untidily down her back. His gaze travelled upwards from bow to bow, noticing those that hung only by a thread, but it did not go beyond her chin. He looked at her lean throat, at the obtrusive53 collarbone visible in the disarray54 of the upper part of her attire55. He saw the thin arm and the bony hand clasping the child she carried, and he felt an immense distaste for those encumbrances56 of his life. He waited for her to say something, but as he felt her eyes rest on him in unbroken silence he sighed and began to speak.
It was a hard task. He spoke57 slowly, lingering amongst the memories of this early life in his reluctance58 to confess that this was the end of it and the beginning of a less splendid existence. In his conviction of having made her happiness in the full satisfaction of all material wants he never doubted for a moment that she was ready to keep him company on no matter how hard and stony59 a road. He was not elated by this certitude. He had married her to please Hudig, and the greatness of his sacrifice ought to have made her happy without any further exertion60 on his part. She had years of glory as Willems’ wife, and years of comfort, of loyal care, and of such tenderness as she deserved. He had guarded her carefully from any bodily hurt; and of any other suffering he had no conception. The assertion of his superiority was only another benefit conferred on her. All this was a matter of course, but he told her all this so as to bring vividly61 before her the greatness of her loss. She was so dull of understanding that she would not grasp it else. And now it was at an end. They would have to go. Leave this house, leave this island, go far away where he was unknown. To the English Strait-Settlements perhaps. He would find an opening there for his abilities — and juster men to deal with than old Hudig. He laughed bitterly.
“You have the money I left at home this morning, Joanna?” he asked. “We will want it all now.”
As he spoke those words he thought he was a fine fellow. Nothing new that. Still, he surpassed there his own expectations. Hang it all, there are sacred things in life, after all. The marriage tie was one of them, and he was not the man to break it. The solidity of his principles caused him great satisfaction, but he did not care to look at his wife, for all that. He waited for her to speak. Then he would have to console her; tell her not to be a crying fool; to get ready to go. Go where? How? When? He shook his head. They must leave at once; that was the principal thing. He felt a sudden need to hurry up his departure.
“Well, Joanna,” he said, a little impatiently —-“don’t stand there in a trance. Do you hear? We must . . . .”
He looked up at his wife, and whatever he was going to add remained unspoken. She was staring at him with her big, slanting62 eyes, that seemed to him twice their natural size. The child, its dirty little face pressed to its mother’s shoulder, was sleeping peacefully. The deep silence of the house was not broken, but rather accentuated63, by the low mutter of the cockatoo, now very still on its perch. As Willems was looking at Joanna her upper lip was drawn64 up on one side, giving to her melancholy65 face a vicious expression altogether new to his experience. He stepped back in his surprise.
“Oh! You great man!” she said distinctly, but in a voice that was hardly above a whisper.
Those words, and still more her tone, stunned66 him as if somebody had fired a gun close to his ear. He stared back at her stupidly.
“Oh! you great man!” she repeated slowly, glancing right and left as if meditating67 a sudden escape. “And you think that I am going to starve with you. You are nobody now. You think my mamma and Leonard would let me go away? And with you! With you,” she repeated scornfully, raising her voice, which woke up the child and caused it to whimper feebly.
“Joanna!” exclaimed Willems.
“Do not speak to me. I have heard what I have waited for all these years. You are less than dirt, you that have wiped your feet on me. I have waited for this. I am not afraid now. I do not want you; do not come near me. Ah-h!” she screamed shrilly68, as he held out his hand in an entreating69 gesture —“Ah! Keep off me! Keep off me! Keep off!”
She backed away, looking at him with eyes both angry and frightened. Willems stared motionless, in dumb amazement70 at the mystery of anger and revolt in the head of his wife. Why? What had he ever done to her? This was the day of injustice71 indeed. First Hudig — and now his wife. He felt a terror at this hate that had lived stealthily so near him for years. He tried to speak, but she shrieked again, and it was like a needle through his heart. Again he raised his hand.
“Help!” called Mrs. Willems, in a piercing voice. “Help!”
“Be quiet! You fool!” shouted Willems, trying to drown the noise of his wife and child in his own angry accents and rattling72 violently the little zinc73 table in his exasperation74.
From under the house, where there were bathrooms and a tool closet, appeared Leonard, a rusty75 iron bar in his hand. He called threateningly from the bottom of the stairs.
“Do not hurt her, Mr. Willems. You are a savage76. Not at all like we, whites.”
“You too!” said the bewildered Willems. “I haven’t touched her. Is this a madhouse?” He moved towards the stairs, and Leonard dropped the bar with a clang and made for the gate of the compound. Willems turned back to his wife.
“So you expected this,” he said. “It is a conspiracy77. Who’s that sobbing78 and groaning79 in the room? Some more of your precious family. Hey?”
She was more calm now, and putting hastily the crying child in the big chair walked towards him with sudden fearlessness.
“My mother,” she said, “my mother who came to defend me from you — man from nowhere; a vagabond!”
“You did not call me a vagabond when you hung round my neck — before we were married,” said Willems, contemptuously.
“You took good care that I should not hang round your neck after we were,” she answered, clenching80 her hands, and putting her face close to his. “You boasted while I suffered and said nothing. What has become of your greatness; of our greatness — you were always speaking about? Now I am going to live on the charity of your master. Yes. That is true. He sent Leonard to tell me so.
And you will go and boast somewhere else, and starve. So! Ah! I can breathe now! This house is mine.”
“Enough!” said Willems, slowly, with an arresting gesture.
She leaped back, the fright again in her eyes, snatched up the child, pressed it to her breast, and, falling into a chair, drummed insanely with her heels on the resounding81 floor of the verandah.
“I shall go,” said Willems, steadily82. “I thank you. For the first time in your life you make me happy. You were a stone round my neck; you understand. I did not mean to tell you that as long as you lived, but you made me — now. Before I pass this gate you shall be gone from my mind. You made it very easy. I thank you.”
He turned and went down the steps without giving her a glance, while she sat upright and quiet, with wide-open eyes, the child crying querulously in her arms. At the gate he came suddenly upon Leonard, who had been dodging83 about there and failed to get out of the way in time.
“Do not be brutal84, Mr. Willems,” said Leonard, hurriedly. “It is unbecoming between white men with all those natives looking on.” Leonard’s legs trembled very much, and his voice wavered between high and low tones without any attempt at control on his part. “Restrain your improper85 violence,” he went on mumbling86 rapidly. “I am a respectable man of very good family, while you . . . it is regrettable . . . they all say so . . . ”
“What?” thundered Willems. He felt a sudden impulse of mad anger, and before he knew what had happened he was looking at Leonard da Souza rolling in the dust at his feet. He stepped over his prostrate87 brother-in-law and tore blindly down the street, everybody making way for the frantic88 white man.
When he came to himself he was beyond the outskirts89 of the town, stumbling on the hard and cracked earth of reaped rice fields. How did he get there? It was dark. He must get back. As he walked towards the town slowly, his mind reviewed the events of the day and he felt a sense of bitter loneliness. His wife had turned him out of his own house. He had assaulted brutally90 his brother-in-law, a member of the Da Souza family — of that band of his worshippers. He did. Well, no! It was some other man. Another man was coming back. A man without a past, without a future, yet full of pain and shame and anger. He stopped and looked round. A dog or two glided91 across the empty street and rushed past him with a frightened snarl92. He was now in the midst of the Malay quarter whose bamboo houses, hidden in the verdure of their little gardens, were dark and silent. Men, women and children slept in there. Human beings. Would he ever sleep, and where? He felt as if he was the outcast of all mankind, and as he looked hopelessly round, before resuming his weary march, it seemed to him that the world was bigger, the night more vast and more black; but he went on doggedly93 with his head down as if pushing his way through some thick brambles. Then suddenly he felt planks94 under his feet and, looking up, saw the red light at the end of the jetty. He walked quite to the end and stood leaning against the post, under the lamp, looking at the roadstead where two vessels95 at anchor swayed their slender rigging amongst the stars. The end of the jetty; and here in one step more the end of life; the end of everything. Better so. What else could he do? Nothing ever comes back. He saw it clearly. The respect and admiration96 of them all, the old habits and old affections finished abruptly97 in the clear perception of the cause of his disgrace. He saw all this; and for a time he came out of himself, out of his selfishness — out of the constant preoccupation of his interests and his desires — out of the temple of self and the concentration of personal thought.
His thoughts now wandered home. Standing in the tepid98 stillness of a starry99 tropical night he felt the breath of the bitter east wind, he saw the high and narrow fronts of tall houses under the gloom of a clouded sky; and on muddy quays100 he saw the shabby, high-shouldered figure — the patient, faded face of the weary man earning bread for the children that waited for him in a dingy101 home. It was miserable102, miserable. But it would never come back. What was there in common between those things and Willems the clever, Willems the successful. He had cut himself adrift from that home many years ago. Better for him then. Better for them now. All this was gone, never to come back again; and suddenly he shivered, seeing himself alone in the presence of unknown and terrible dangers.
For the first time in his life he felt afraid of the future, because he had lost his faith, the faith in his own success. And he had destroyed it foolishly with his own hands!
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1
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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steadfastness
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| n.坚定，稳当 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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restitution
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| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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tellers
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| n.（银行）出纳员( teller的名词复数 )；（投票时的）计票员；讲故事等的人；讲述者 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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rims
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| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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aberration
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| n.离开正路，脱离常规，色差 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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superciliously
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| adv.高傲地；傲慢地 | |
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condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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negligently
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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obtrusive
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| adj.显眼的；冒失的 | |
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disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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encumbrances
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| n.负担( encumbrance的名词复数 )；累赘；妨碍；阻碍 | |
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57
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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58
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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59
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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63
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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64
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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entreating
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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73
zinc
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| n.锌；vt.在...上镀锌 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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78
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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79
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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80
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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83
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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100
quays
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| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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101
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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102
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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