Серце темряви
Chapter 2
Hereyouallare,eachmooredwithtwogoodaddresses,likeahulkwithtwoanchors,abutcherroundonecorner,apolicemanroundanother,excellentappetites,andtemperaturenormal—youhear—normalfromyear’sendtoyear’send.Andyousay,Absurd!Absurdbe—exploded!Absurd!Mydearboys,whatcanyouexpectfromamanwhooutofsheernervousnesshadjustflungoverboardapairofnewshoes!NowIthinkofit,itisamazingIdidnotshedtears.Iam,uponthewhole,proudofmyfortitude.IwascuttothequickattheideaofhavinglosttheinestimableprivilegeoflisteningtothegiftedKurtz.OfcourseIwaswrong.Theprivilegewaswaitingforme.Oh,yes,Iheardmorethanenough.AndIwasright,too.Avoice.Hewasverylittlemorethanavoice.AndIheard—him—it—thisvoice—othervoices—allofthemweresolittlemorethanvoices—andthememoryofthattimeitselflingersaroundme,impalpable,likeadyingvibrationofoneimmensejabber,silly,atrocious,sordid,savage,orsimplymean,withoutanykindofsense.Voices,voices—eventhegirlherself—now—"
Hewassilentforalongtime.
"Ilaidtheghostofhisgiftsatlastwithalie,"hebegan,suddenly."Girl!What?DidImentionagirl?Oh,sheisoutofit—completely.They—thewomen,Imean—areoutofit—shouldbeoutofit.Wemusthelpthemtostayinthatbeautifulworldoftheirown,lestoursgetsworse.Oh,shehadtobeoutofit.YoushouldhaveheardthedisinterredbodyofMr.Kurtzsaying,‘MyIntended.
