dead Malay; he had seen many dead Malays without any emotion;
and now he felt inclined to weep, but it was over the fate of a white man
he knew; a man that fell over a deep precipice and did not die. He
seemed somehow to himself to be standing on one side, a little way off,
looking at a certain Almayer who was in great trouble. Poor, poor
fellow! Why doesn't he cut his throat? He wished to encourage him; he
was very anxious to see him lying dead over that other corpse. Why does
he not die and end this suffering? He groaned aloud unconsciously and
started with affright at the sound of his own voice. Was he going mad?
Terrified by the thought he turned away and ran towards his house
repeating to himself, I am not going mad; of course not, no, no, no! He
tried to keep a firm hold of the idea.

Not mad, not mad. He stumbled as he ran blindly up the steps repeating
fast and ever faster those words wherein seemed to lie his salvation. He
saw Nina standing there, and wished to say something to her, but could
not remember what, in his extreme anxiety not to forget that he was not
going mad, which he still kept repeating mentally as he ran round the
table, till he stumbled against one of the arm-chairs and dropped into it
exhausted. He sat staring wildly at Nina, still assuring himself
mentally of his own sanity and wondering why the girl shrank from him in
open-eyed alarm. What was the matter with her? This was foolish. He
struck the table violently with his clenched fist and shouted hoarsely,
"Give me some gin! Run!" Then, while Nina ran off, he remained in the
chair, very still and quiet, astonished at the noise he had made.

Nina returned with a tumbler half filled with gin, and found her father
staring absently before him. Almayer felt very tired now, as if he had
come from a long journey. He felt as if he had walked miles and miles
that morning and now wanted to rest very much. He took the tumbler with
a shaking hand, and as he drank his teeth chattered against the glass
which he drained and set down heavily on the table. He turned his eyes
slowly towards Nina standing beside him, and said steadily--

"Now all is over, Nina. He is dead, and I may as well burn all my
boats."

He felt very proud of being able to speak so calmly. Decidedly he was
not going mad. This certitude was very comforting, and he went on
talking about the finding of the body, listening to his own voice
complacently. Nina sto