e long chair,
listened absently to the few disconnected words escaping from her
father's lips. Expedition! Gold! What did she care for all that? But
at the name of Maroola mentioned by her father she was all attention.
Dain was going down the river with his brig to-morrow to remain away for
a few days, said Almayer. It was very annoying, this delay. As soon as
Dain returned they would have to start without loss of time, for the
river was rising. He would not be surprised if a great flood was coming.
And he pushed away his plate with an impatient gesture on rising from the
table. But now Nina heard him not. Dain going away! That's why he had
ordered her, with that quiet masterfulness it was her delight to obey, to
meet him at break of day in Bulangi's creek. Was there a paddle in her
canoe? she thought. Was it ready? She would have to start early--at
four in the morning, in a very few hours.

She rose from her chair, thinking she would require rest before the long
pull in the early morning. The lamp was burning dimly, and her father,
tired with the day's labour, was already in his hammock. Nina put the
lamp out and passed into a large room she shared with her mother on the
left of the central passage. Entering, she saw that Mrs. Almayer had
deserted the pile of mats serving her as bed in one corner of the room,
and was now bending over the opened lid of her large wooden chest. Half
a shell of cocoanut filled with oil, where a cotton rag floated for a
wick, stood on the floor, surrounding her with a ruddy halo of light
shining through the black and odorous smoke. Mrs. Almayer's back was
bent, and her head and shoulders hidden in the deep box. Her hands
rummaged in the interior, where a soft clink as of silver money could be
heard. She did not notice at first her daughter's approach, and Nina,
standing silently by her, looked down on many little canvas bags ranged
in the bottom of the chest, wherefrom her mother extracted handfuls of
shining guilders and Mexican dollars, letting them stream slowly back
again through her claw-like fingers. The music of tinkling silver seemed
to delight her, and her eyes sparkled with the reflected gleam of freshly-
minted coins. She was muttering to herself: "And this, and this, and yet
this! Soon he will give more--as much more as I ask. He is a great
Rajah--a Son of Heaven! And she will be a Ranee--he gave all this for
her! Who ever gave anything for me? I am a s