Heyst had been sitting among the bones buried so kindly6 in the grass of two wet seasons’ growth. The silence of his surroundings, broken only by such sounds as a distant roll of thunder, the lash7 of rain through the foliage8 of some big trees, the noise of the wind tossing the leaves of the forest, and of the short seas breaking against the shore, favoured rather than hindered his solitary9 meditation10.
A meditation is always — in a white man, at least — more or less an interrogative exercise. Heyst meditated11 in simple terms on the mystery of his actions; and he answered himself with the honest reflection:
“There must be a lot of the original Adam in me, after all.”
He reflected, too, with the sense of making a discovery, that his primeval ancestor is not easily suppressed. The oldest voice in the world is just the one that never ceases to speak. If anybody could have silenced its imperative12 echoes, it should have been Heyst’s father, with his contemptuous, inflexible13 negation14 of all effort; but apparently15 he could not. There was in the son a lot of that first ancestor who, as soon as he could uplift his muddy frame from the celestial16 mould, started inspecting and naming the animals of that paradise which he was so soon to lose.
Action — the first thought, or perhaps the first impulse, on earth! The barbed hook, baited with the illusions of progress, to bring out of the lightless void the shoals of unnumbered generations!
“And I, the son of my father, have been caught too, like the silliest fish of them all.” Heyst said to himself.
He suffered. He was hurt by the sight of his own life, which ought to have been a masterpiece of aloofness17. He remembered always his last evening with his father. He remembered the thin features, the great mass of white hair, and the ivory complexion18. A five-branched candlestick stood on a little table by the side of the easy chair. They had been talking a long time. The noises of the street had died out one by one, till at last, in the moonlight, the London houses began to look like the tombs of an unvisited, unhonoured, cemetery19 of hopes.
He had listened. Then, after a silence, he had asked — for he was really young then:
“Is there no guidance?”
His father was in an unexpectedly soft mood on that night, when the moon swam in a cloudless sky over the begrimed shadows of the town.
“You still believe in something, then?” he said in a clear voice, which had been growing feeble of late. “You believe in flesh and blood, perhaps? A full and equable contempt would soon do away with that, too. But since you have not attained20 to it, I advise you to cultivate that form of contempt which is called pity. It is perhaps the least difficult — always remembering that you, too, if you are anything, are as pitiful as the rest, yet never expecting any pity for yourself.”
“What is one to do, then?” sighed the young man, regarding his father, rigid21 in the high-backed chair.
“Look on — make no sound,” were the last words of the man who had spent his life in blowing blasts upon a terrible trumpet22 which filled heaven and earth with ruins, while mankind went on its way unheeding.
That very night he died in his bed, so quietly that they found him in his usual attitude of sleep, lying on his side, one hand under his cheek, and his knees slightly bent23. He had not even straightened his legs.
His son buried the silenced destroyer of systems, of hopes, of beliefs. He observed that the death of that bitter contemner24 of life did not trouble the flow of life’s stream, where men and women go by thick as dust, revolving25 and jostling one another like figures cut out of cork26 and weighted with lead just sufficiently to keep them in their proudly upright posture27.
After the funeral, Heyst sat alone, in the dusk, and his meditation took the form of a definite vision of the stream, of the fatuously28 jostling, nodding, spinning figures hurried irresistibly29 along, and giving no sign of being aware that the voice on the bank had been suddenly silenced . . . Yes. A few obituary30 notices generally insignificant31 and some grossly abusive. The son had read them all with mournful detachment.
“This is the hate and rage of their fear,” he thought to himself, “and also of wounded vanity. They shriek32 their little shriek as they fly past. I suppose I ought to hate him too . . . ”
He became aware of his eyes being wet. It was not that the man was his father. For him it was purely33 a matter of hearsay34 which could not in itself cause this emotion. No! It was because he had looked at him so long that he missed him so much. The dead man had kept him on the bank by his side. And now Heyst felt acutely that he was alone on the bank of the stream. In his pride he determined35 not to enter it.
A few slow tears rolled down his face. The rooms, filling with shadows, seemed haunted by a melancholy36, uneasy presence which could not express itself. The young man got up with a strange sense of making way for something impalpable that claimed possession, went out of the house, and locked the door. A fortnight later he started on his travels — to “look on and never make a sound.”
The elder Heyst had left behind him a little money and a certain quantity of movable objects, such as books, tables, chairs, and pictures, which might have complained of heartless desertion after many years of faithful service; for there is a soul in things. Heyst, our Heyst, had often thought of them, reproachful and mute, shrouded37 and locked up in those rooms, far away in London with the sounds of the street reaching them faintly, and sometimes a little sunshine, when the blinds were pulled up and the windows opened from time to time in pursuance of his original instructions and later reminders38. It seemed as if in his conception of a world not worth touching39, and perhaps not substantial enough to grasp, these objects familiar to his childhood and his youth, and associated with the memory of an old man, were the only realities, something having an absolute existence. He would never have them sold, or even moved from the places they occupied when he looked upon them last. When he was advised from London that his lease had expired, and that the house, with some others as like it as two peas, was to be demolished40, he was surprisingly distressed41.
He had entered by then the broad, human path of inconsistencies. Already the Tropical Belt Coal Company was in existence. He sent instructions to have some of the things sent out to him at Samburan, just as any ordinary, credulous42 person would have done. They came, torn out from their long repose43 — a lot of books, some chairs and tables, his father’s portrait in oils, which surprised Heyst by its air of youth, because he remembered his father as a much older man; a lot of small objects, such as candlesticks, inkstands, and statuettes from his father’s study, which surprised him because they looked so old and so much worn.
The manager of the Tropical Belt Coal Company, unpacking44 them on the veranda45 in the shade besieged46 by a fierce sunshine, must have felt like a remorseful47 apostate48 before these relics49. He handled them tenderly; and it was perhaps their presence there which attached him to the island when he woke up to the failure of his apostasy50. Whatever the decisive reason, Heyst had remained where another would have been glad to be off. The excellent Davidson had discovered the fact without discovering the reason, and took a humane51 interest in Heyst’s strange existence, while at the same time his native delicacy52 kept him from intruding53 on the other’s whim54 of solitude55. He could not possibly guess that Heyst, alone on the island, felt neither more nor less lonely than in any other place, desert or populous56. Davidson’s concern was, if one may express it so, the danger of spiritual starvation; but this was a spirit which had renounced57 all outside nourishment58, and was sustaining itself proudly on its own contempt of the usual coarse ailments59 which life offers to the common appetites of men.
Neither was Heyst’s body in danger of starvation, as Schomberg had so confidently asserted. At the beginning of the company’s operations the island had been provisioned in a manner which had outlasted60 the need. Heyst did not need to fear hunger; and his very loneliness had not been without some alleviation61. Of the crowd of imported Chinese labourers, one at least had remained in Samburan, solitary and strange, like a swallow left behind at the migrating season of his tribe.
Wang was not a common coolie. He had been a servant to white men before. The agreement between him and Heyst consisted in the exchange of a few words on the day when the last batch62 of the mine coolies was leaving Samburan. Heyst, leaning over the balustrade of the veranda, was looking on, as calm in appearance as though he had never departed from the doctrine63 that this world, for the wise, is nothing but an amusing spectacle. Wang came round the house, and standing64 below, raised up his yellow, thin face.
“All finished?” he asked. Heyst nodded slightly from above, glancing towards the jetty. A crowd of blue-clad figures with yellow faces and calves65 was being hustled66 down into the boats of the chartered steamer lying well out, like a painted ship on a painted sea; painted in crude colours, without shadows, without feeling, with brutal67 precision.
“You had better hurry up if you don’t want to be left behind.”
But the Chinaman did not move.
“We stop,” he declared. Heyst looked down at him for the first time.
“You want to stop here?”
“Yes.”
“What were you? What was your work here?”
“Mess-loom boy.”
“Do you want to stay with me here as my boy?” inquired Heyst, surprised.
The Chinaman unexpectedly put on a deprecatory expression, and said, after a marked pause:
“Can do.”
“You needn’t,” said Heyst, “unless you like. I propose to stay on here — it may be for a very long time. I have no power to make you go if you wish to remain, but I don’t see why you should.”
“Catchee one piecee wife,” remarked Wang unemotionally, and marched off, turning his back on the wharf68 and the great world beyond, represented by the steamer waiting for her boats.
Heyst learned presently that Wang had persuaded one of the women of Alfuro village, on the west shore of the island, beyond the central ridge69, to come over to live with him in a remote part of the company’s clearing. It was a curious case, inasmuch as the Alfuros, having been frightened by the sudden invasion of Chinamen, had blocked the path over the ridge by felling a few trees, and had kept strictly70 on their own side. The coolies, as a body, mistrusting the manifest mildness of these harmless fisher-folk, had kept to their lines, without attempting to cross the island. Wang was the brilliant exception. He must have been uncommonly71 fascinating, in a way that was not apparent to Heyst, or else uncommonly persuasive72. The woman’s services to Heyst were limited to the fact that she had anchored Wang to the spot by her charms, which remained unknown to the white man, because she never came near the houses. The couple lived at the edge of the forest, and she could sometimes be seen gazing towards the bungalow73 shading her eyes with her hand. Even from a distance she appeared to be a shy, wild creature, and Heyst, anxious not to try her primitive74 nerves unduly75, scrupulously76 avoided that side of the clearing in his strolls.
The day — or rather the first night — after his hermit77 life began, he was aware of vague sounds of revelry in that direction. Emboldened78 by the departure of the invading strangers, some Alfuros, the woman’s friends and relations, had ventured over the ridge to attend something in the nature of a wedding feast. Wang had invited them. But this was the only occasion when any sound louder than the buzzing of insects had troubled the profound silence of the clearing. The natives were never invited again. Wang not, only knew how to live according to conventional proprieties79, but had strong personal views as to the manner of arranging his domestic existence. After a time Heyst perceived that Wang had annexed80 all the keys. Any keys left lying about vanished after Wang had passed that way. Subsequently some of them — those that did not belong to the store-rooms and the empty bungalows81, and could not be regarded as the common property of this community of two — were returned to Heyst, tied in a bunch with a piece of string. He found them one morning lying by the side of his plate. He had not been inconvenienced by their absence, because he never locked up anything in the way of drawers and boxes. Heyst said nothing. Wang also said nothing. Perhaps he had always been a taciturn man; perhaps he was influenced by the genius of the locality, which was certainly that of silence. Till Heyst and Morrison had landed in Black Diamond Bay, and named it, that side of Samburan had hardly ever heard the sound of human speech. It was easy to be taciturn with Heyst, who had plunged82 himself into an abyss of meditation over books, and remained in it till the shadow of Wang falling across the page, and the sound of a rough, low voice uttering the Malay word “makan,” would force him to climb out to a meal.
Wang in his native province in China might have been an aggressively, sensitively genial83 person; but in Samburan he had clothed himself in a mysterious stolidity84 and did not seem to resent not being spoken to except in single words, at a rate which did not average half a dozen per day. And he gave no more than he got. It is to be presumed that if he suffered he made up for it with the Alfuro woman. He always went back to her at the first fall of dusk, vanishing from the bungalow suddenly at this hour, like a sort of topsy-turvy, day-hunting, Chinese ghost with a white jacket and a pigtail. Presently, giving way to a Chinaman’s ruling passion, he could be observed breaking the ground near his hut, between the mighty85 stumps86 of felled trees, with a miner’s pickaxe. After a time, he discovered a rusty87 but serviceable spade in one of the empty store-rooms, and it is to be supposed that he got on famously; but nothing of it could be seen, because he went to the trouble of pulling to pieces one of the company’s sheds in order to get materials for making a high and very close fence round his patch, as if the growing of vegetables were a patented process, or an awful and holy mystery entrusted88 to the keeping of his race.
Heyst, following from a distance the progress of Wang’s gardening and of these precautions — there was nothing else to look at — was amused at the thought that he, in his own person, represented the market for its produce. The Chinaman had found several packets of seeds in the store-rooms, and had surrendered to an irresistible89 impulse to put them into the ground. He would make his master pay for the vegetables which he was raising to satisfy his instinct. And, looking silently at the silent Wang going about his work in the bungalow in his unhasty, steady way; Heyst envied the Chinaman’s obedience90 to his instincts, the powerful simplicity91 of purpose which made his existence appear almost automatic in the mysterious precision of its facts.
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1
prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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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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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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11
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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13
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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negation
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| n.否定；否认 | |
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15
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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18
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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19
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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20
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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21
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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23
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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24
contemner
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| n.谴责者，宣判者，定罪者 | |
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25
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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26
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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28
fatuously
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| adv.愚昧地，昏庸地，蠢地 | |
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29
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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30
obituary
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| n.讣告，死亡公告；adj.死亡的 | |
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31
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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32
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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33
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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hearsay
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| n.谣传，风闻 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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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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37
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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38
reminders
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| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
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39
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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40
demolished
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| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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41
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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42
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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43
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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44
unpacking
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| n.取出货物，拆包[箱]v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的现在分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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45
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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46
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
remorseful
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| adj.悔恨的 | |
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48
apostate
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| n.背叛者，变节者 | |
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49
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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50
apostasy
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| n.背教，脱党 | |
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51
humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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52
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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53
intruding
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| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的现在分词)；把…强加于 | |
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54
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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55
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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56
populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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57
renounced
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| v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布放弃；宣布与…决裂；宣布摒弃 | |
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58
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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59
ailments
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| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
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60
outlasted
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| v.比…长久，比…活得长( outlast的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
alleviation
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| n. 减轻，缓和，解痛物 | |
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62
batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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63
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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64
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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65
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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66
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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67
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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68
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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69
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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70
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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71
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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73
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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74
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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75
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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77
hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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78
emboldened
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79
proprieties
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| n.礼仪，礼节；礼貌( propriety的名词复数 )；规矩；正当；合适 | |
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80
annexed
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| [法] 附加的，附属的 | |
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81
bungalows
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| n.平房( bungalow的名词复数 )；单层小屋，多于一层的小屋 | |
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82
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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83
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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84
stolidity
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| n.迟钝，感觉麻木 | |
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85
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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86
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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87
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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88
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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90
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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91
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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