Серце темряви
Chapter 2
Everythingbelongedtohim—butthatwasatrifle.Thethingwastoknowwhathebelongedto,howmanypowersofdarknessclaimedhimfortheirown.Thatwasthereflectionthatmadeyoucreepyallover.Itwasimpossible—itwasnotgoodforoneeither—tryingtoimagine.Hehadtakenahighseatamongstthedevilsoftheland—Imeanliterally.Youcan’tunderstand.Howcouldyou?—withsolidpavementunderyourfeet,surroundedbykindneighboursreadytocheeryouortofallonyou,steppingdelicatelybetweenthebutcherandthepoliceman,intheholyterrorofscandalandgallowsandlunaticasylums—howcanyouimaginewhatparticularregionofthefirstagesaman’suntrammelledfeetmaytakehimintobythewayofsolitude—uttersolitudewithoutapoliceman—bythewayofsilence—uttersilence,wherenowarningvoiceofakindneighbourcanbeheardwhisperingofpublicopinion?Theselittlethingsmakeallthegreatdifference.Whentheyaregoneyoumustfallbackuponyourowninnatestrength,uponyourowncapacityforfaithfulness.Ofcourseyoumaybetoomuchofafooltogowrong—toodulleventoknowyouarebeingassaultedbythepowersofdarkness.Itakeit,nofoolevermadeabargainforhissoulwiththedevil;thefoolistoomuchofafool,orthedeviltoomuchofadevil—Idon’tknowwhich.Oryoumaybesuchathunderinglyexaltedcreatureastobealtogetherdeafandblindtoanythingbutheavenlysightsandsounds.
