Beyond the fence the
forest stood up spectrally in the moonlight, and through that dim stir,
through the faint sounds of that lamentable courtyard, the silence of
the land went home to one's very heart--its mystery, its greatness, the
amazing reality of its concealed life. The hurt nigger moaned feebly
somewhere near by, and then fetched a deep sigh that made me mend my
pace away from there. I felt a hand introducing itself under my arm.
'My dear sir,' said the fellow, 'I don't want to be misunderstood, and
especially by you, who will see Mr. Kurtz long before I can have
that pleasure. I wouldn't like him to get a false idea of my
disposition. . . .'
"I let him run on, this _papier-mache_ Mephistopheles, and it seemed to me
that if I tried I could poke my forefinger through him, and would find
nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe. He, don't you see, had
been planning to be assistant-manager by and by under the present man,
and I could see that the coming of that Kurtz had upset them both not a
little. He talked precipitately, and I did not try to stop him. I had my
shoulders against the wreck of my steamer, hauled up on the slope like a
carcass of some big river animal. The smell of mud, of primeval mud,
by Jove! was in my nostrils, the high stillness of primeval forest was
before my eyes; there were shiny patches on the black creek.
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