Лорд Джим

Chapter 4

           Thebigassessorhaddroppedhiseyelids,anddrummedonwithoutasound,carelessandmournful;theeyesoftheotherabovethesunburnt,claspedfingersseemedtoglowwithkindliness;themagistratehadswayedforward;hispalefacehoveredneartheflowers,andthendroppingsidewaysoverthearmofhischair,herestedhistempleinthepalmofhishand.Thewindofthepunkahseddieddownontheheads,onthedark-facednativeswoundaboutinvoluminousdraperies,ontheEuropeanssittingtogetherveryhotandindrillsuitsthatseemedtofitthemascloseastheirskins,andholdingtheirroundpithhatsontheirknees;whileglidingalongthewallsthecourtpeons,buttonedtightinlongwhitecoats,flittedrapidlytoandfro,runningonbaretoes,red-sashed,redturbanonhead,asnoiselessasghosts,andonthealertlikesomanyretrievers.

           Jim’seyes,wanderingintheintervalsofhisanswers,resteduponawhitemanwhosatapartfromtheothers,withhisfacewornandclouded,butwithquieteyesthatglancedstraight,interestedandclear.Jimansweredanotherquestionandwastemptedtocryout,‘What’sthegoodofthis!what’sthegood!’Hetappedwithhisfootslightly,bithislip,andlookedawayovertheheads.Hemettheeyesofthewhiteman.Theglancedirectedathimwasnotthefascinatedstareoftheothers.Itwasanactofintelligentvolition.Jimbetweentwoquestionsforgothimselfsofarastofindleisureforathought.

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