Волны

           Allseparatesounds--wheels,bells,thecriesofdrunkards,ofmerrymakers--arechurnedintoonesound,steelblue,circular.Thenasirenhoots.Atthatshoresslipaway,chimneysflattenthemselves,theshipmakesfortheopensea.’

           ’Percivalisgoing,’saidNeville.’Wesithere,surrounded,litup,manycoloured;allthings--hands,curtains,knivesandforks,otherpeopledining--runintoeachother.Wearewalledinhere.ButIndialiesoutside.’

           ’IseeIndia,’saidBernard.’Iseethelow,longshore;Iseethetortuouslanesofstampedmudthatleadinandoutamongramshacklepagodas;IseethegiltandcrenellatedbuildingswhichhaveanairoffragilityanddecayasiftheyweretemporarilyrunupbuildingsinsomeOrientalexhibition.Iseeapairofbullockswhodragalowcartalongthesun-bakedroad.Thecartswaysincompetentlyfromsidetoside.Nowonewheelsticksintherut,andatonceinnumerablenativesinloin-clothsswarmroundit,chatteringexcitedly.Buttheydonothing.Timeseemsendless,ambitionvain.Overallbroodsasenseoftheuselessnessofhumanexertion.Therearestrangesoursmells.Anoldmaninaditchcontinuestochewbetelandtocontemplatehisnavel.Butnow,behold,Percivaladvances;Percivalridesaflea-bittenmare,andwearsasun-helmet.ByapplyingthestandardsoftheWest,byusingtheviolentlanguagethatisnaturaltohim,thebullock-cartisrightedinlessthanfiveminutes.TheOrientalproblemissolved.Herideson;themultitudeclusterroundhim,regardinghimasifhewere--whatindeedheis--aGod.