Серце темряви

           Kurtzasyouwouldanordinaryman.No,no,no!Now—justtogiveyouanidea—Idon’tmindtellingyou,hewantedtoshootme,too,oneday—butIdon’tjudgehim.’‘Shootyou!’Icried‘Whatfor?’‘Well,Ihadasmalllotofivorythechiefofthatvillagenearmyhousegaveme.YouseeIusedtoshootgameforthem.Well,hewantedit,andwouldn’thearreason.HedeclaredhewouldshootmeunlessIgavehimtheivoryandthenclearedoutofthecountry,becausehecoulddoso,andhadafancyforit,andtherewasnothingonearthtopreventhimkillingwhomhejollywellpleased.Anditwastrue,too.Igavehimtheivory.WhatdidIcare!ButIdidn’tclearout.No,no.Icouldn’tleavehim.Ihadtobecareful,ofcourse,tillwegotfriendlyagainforatime.Hehadhissecondillnessthen.AfterwardsIhadtokeepoutoftheway;butIdidn’tmind.Hewaslivingforthemostpartinthosevillagesonthelake.Whenhecamedowntotheriver,sometimeshewouldtaketome,andsometimesitwasbetterformetobecareful.Thismansufferedtoomuch.Hehatedallthis,andsomehowhecouldn’tgetaway.WhenIhadachanceIbeggedhimtotryandleavewhiletherewastime;Iofferedtogobackwithhim.Andhewouldsayyes,andthenhewouldremain;gooffonanotherivoryhunt;disappearforweeks;forgethimselfamongstthesepeople—forgethimself—youknow.’‘Why!he’smad,’Isaid.Heprotestedindignantly.Mr.Kurtzcouldn’tbemad.