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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Лорд Джим
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- Стр. 35/107
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His
right
arm
put
aside
the
idea
of
madness
...
"
Neither
could
it
kill
me
...
"
Again
his
arm
repulsed
a
shadow
...
"
That
rested
with
me
.
"
"'
Did
it
?
"
I
said
,
inexpressibly
amazed
at
this
new
turn
,
and
I
looked
at
him
with
the
same
sort
of
feeling
I
might
be
fairly
conceived
to
experience
had
he
,
after
spinning
round
on
his
heel
,
presented
an
altogether
new
face
.
"'
I
did
n't
get
brain
fever
,
I
did
not
drop
dead
either
,
"
he
went
on
.
"
I
did
n't
bother
myself
at
all
about
the
sun
over
my
head
.
I
was
thinking
as
coolly
as
any
man
that
ever
sat
thinking
in
the
shade
.
That
greasy
beast
of
a
skipper
poked
his
big
cropped
head
from
under
the
canvas
and
screwed
his
fishy
eyes
up
at
me
.
'
Donnerwetter
!
you
will
die
,
'
he
growled
,
and
drew
in
like
a
turtle
.
I
had
seen
him
.
I
had
heard
him
.
He
did
n't
interrupt
me
.
I
was
thinking
just
then
that
I
would
n't
.
"
'
He
tried
to
sound
my
thought
with
an
attentive
glance
dropped
on
me
in
passing
.
"
Do
you
mean
to
say
you
had
been
deliberating
with
yourself
whether
you
would
die
?
"
I
asked
in
as
impenetrable
a
tone
as
I
could
command
.
He
nodded
without
stopping
.
"
Yes
,
it
had
come
to
that
as
I
sat
there
alone
,
"
he
said
.
He
passed
on
a
few
steps
to
the
imaginary
end
of
his
beat
,
and
when
he
flung
round
to
come
back
both
his
hands
were
thrust
deep
into
his
pockets
.
He
stopped
short
in
front
of
my
chair
and
looked
down
.
"
Do
n't
you
believe
it
?
"
he
inquired
with
tense
curiosity
I
was
moved
to
make
a
solemn
declaration
of
my
readiness
to
believe
implicitly
anything
he
thought
fit
to
tell
me
.
'
'
He
heard
me
out
with
his
head
on
one
side
,
and
I
had
another
glimpse
through
a
rent
in
the
mist
in
which
he
moved
and
had
his
being
.
The
dim
candle
spluttered
within
the
ball
of
glass
,
and
that
was
all
I
had
to
see
him
by
;
at
his
back
was
the
dark
night
with
the
clear
stars
,
whose
distant
glitter
disposed
in
retreating
planes
lured
the
eye
into
the
depths
of
a
greater
darkness
;
and
yet
a
mysterious
light
seemed
to
show
me
his
boyish
head
,
as
if
in
that
moment
the
youth
within
him
had
,
for
a
second
,
glowed
and
expired
.
"
You
are
an
awful
good
sort
to
listen
like
this
,
"
he
said
.
"
It
does
me
good
.
You
do
n't
know
what
it
is
to
me
.
You
do
n't
"
...
words
seemed
to
fail
him
.
It
was
a
distinct
glimpse
.
He
was
a
youngster
of
the
sort
you
like
to
see
about
you
;
of
the
sort
you
like
to
imagine
yourself
to
have
been
;
of
the
sort
whose
appearance
claims
the
fellowship
of
these
illusions
you
had
thought
gone
out
,
extinct
,
cold
,
and
which
,
as
if
rekindled
at
the
approach
of
another
flame
,
give
a
flutter
deep
,
deep
down
somewhere
,
give
a
flutter
of
light
...
of
heat
!
...
Yes
;
I
had
a
glimpse
of
him
then
...
and
it
was
not
the
last
of
that
kind
...
"
You
do
n't
know
what
it
is
for
a
fellow
in
my
position
to
be
believed
--
make
a
clean
breast
of
it
to
an
elder
man
.
It
is
so
difficult
--
so
awfully
unfair
--
so
hard
to
understand
.
"
'
The
mists
were
closing
again
.
I
do
n't
know
how
old
I
appeared
to
him
--
and
how
much
wise
.
Not
half
as
old
as
I
felt
just
then
;
not
half
as
uselessly
wise
as
I
knew
myself
to
be
.
Surely
in
no
other
craft
as
in
that
of
the
sea
do
the
hearts
of
those
already
launched
to
sink
or
swim
go
out
so
much
to
the
youth
on
the
brink
,
looking
with
shining
eyes
upon
that
glitter
of
the
vast
surface
which
is
only
a
reflection
of
his
own
glances
full
of
fire
.
There
is
such
magnificent
vagueness
in
the
expectations
that
had
driven
each
of
us
to
sea
,
such
a
glorious
indefiniteness
,
such
a
beautiful
greed
of
adventures
that
are
their
own
and
only
reward
.
What
we
get
--
well
,
we
wo
n't
talk
of
that
;
but
can
one
of
us
restrain
a
smile
?
In
no
other
kind
of
life
is
the
illusion
more
wide
of
reality
--
in
no
other
is
the
beginning
all
illusion
--
the
disenchantment
more
swift
--
the
subjugation
more
complete
.
Had
n't
we
all
commenced
with
the
same
desire
,
ended
with
the
same
knowledge
,
carried
the
memory
of
the
same
cherished
glamour
through
the
sordid
days
of
imprecation
?
What
wonder
that
when
some
heavy
prod
gets
home
the
bond
is
found
to
be
close
;
that
besides
the
fellowship
of
the
craft
there
is
felt
the
strength
of
a
wider
feeling
--
the
feeling
that
binds
a
man
to
a
child
.
He
was
there
before
me
,
believing
that
age
and
wisdom
can
find
a
remedy
against
the
pain
of
truth
,
giving
me
a
glimpse
of
himself
as
a
young
fellow
in
a
scrape
that
is
the
very
devil
of
a
scrape
,
the
sort
of
scrape
greybeards
wag
at
solemnly
while
they
hide
a
smile
.
And
he
had
been
deliberating
upon
death
--
confound
him
!
He
had
found
that
to
meditate
about
because
he
thought
he
had
saved
his
life
,
while
all
its
glamour
had
gone
with
the
ship
in
the
night
.
What
more
natural
!
It
was
tragic
enough
and
funny
enough
in
all
conscience
to
call
aloud
for
compassion
,
and
in
what
was
I
better
than
the
rest
of
us
to
refuse
him
my
pity
?
And
even
as
I
looked
at
him
the
mists
rolled
into
the
rent
,
and
his
voice
spoke
--
"'
I
was
so
lost
,
you
know
.
It
was
the
sort
of
thing
one
does
not
expect
to
happen
to
one
.
It
was
not
like
a
fight
,
for
instance
.
"
