The woods were unmoved, like a mask--heavy,
like the closed door of a prison--they looked with their air of hidden
knowledge, of patient expectation, of unapproachable silence. The
Russian was explaining to me that it was only lately that Mr. Kurtz had
come down to the river, bringing along with him all the fighting men of
that lake tribe. He had been absent for several months--getting himself
adored, I suppose--and had come down unexpectedly, with the intention
to all appearance of making a raid either across the river or down
stream. Evidently the appetite for more ivory had got the better of
the--what shall I say?--less material aspirations. However he had
got much worse suddenly. 'I heard he was lying helpless, and so I came
up--took my chance,' said the Russian. 'Oh, he is bad, very bad.' I
directed my glass to the house. There were no signs of life, but there
was the ruined roof, the long mud wall peeping above the grass, with
three little square window-holes, no two of the same size; all this
brought within reach of my hand, as it were. And then I made a brusque
movement, and one of the remaining posts of that vanished fence leaped
up in the field of my glass. You remember I told you I had been struck
at the distance by certain attempts at ornamentation, rather remarkable
in the ruinous aspect of the place.
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