Серце темряви

           It’sreallyeasiertofacebereavement,dishonour,andtheperditionofone’ssoul—thanthiskindofprolongedhunger.Sad,buttrue.Andthesechaps,too,hadnoearthlyreasonforanykindofscruple.Restraint!Iwouldjustassoonhaveexpectedrestraintfromahyenaprowlingamongstthecorpsesofabattlefield.Buttherewasthefactfacingme—thefactdazzling,tobeseen,likethefoamonthedepthsofthesea,likearippleonanunfathomableenigma,amysterygreater—whenIthoughtofit—thanthecurious,inexplicablenoteofdesperategriefinthissavageclamourthathadsweptbyusontheriver-bank,behindtheblindwhitenessofthefog.

           "Twopilgrimswerequarrellinginhurriedwhispersastowhichbank.‘Left.’"no,no;howcanyou?Right,right,ofcourse.’‘Itisveryserious,’saidthemanager’svoicebehindme;‘IwouldbedesolatedifanythingshouldhappentoMr.Kurtzbeforewecameup.’Ilookedathim,andhadnottheslightestdoubthewassincere.Hewasjustthekindofmanwhowouldwishtopreserveappearances.Thatwashisrestraint.Butwhenhemutteredsomethingaboutgoingonatonce,Ididnoteventakethetroubletoanswerhim.Iknew,andheknew,thatitwasimpossible.Werewetoletgoourholdofthebottom,wewouldbeabsolutelyintheair—inspace.Wewouldn’tbeabletotellwhereweweregoingto—whetherupordownstream,oracross—tillwefetchedagainstonebankortheother—andthenwewouldn’tknowatfirstwhichitwas.OfcourseImadenomove.