cry
and an upward throw of his arms he gave up as a tired swimmer gives up:
because the swamped craft is gone from under his feet; because the night
is dark and the shore is far--because death is better than strife.

PART II

CHAPTER ONE

The light and heat fell upon the settlement, the clearings, and the
river as if flung down by an angry hand. The land lay silent, still,
and brilliant under the avalanche of burning rays that had destroyed all
sound and all motion, had buried all shadows, had choked every breath.
No living thing dared to affront the serenity of this cloudless sky,
dared to revolt against the oppression of this glorious and cruel
sunshine. Strength and resolution, body and mind alike were helpless,
and tried to hide before the rush of the fire from heaven. Only the
frail butterflies, the fearless children of the sun, the capricious
tyrants of the flowers, fluttered audaciously in the open, and their
minute shadows hovered in swarms over the drooping blossoms, ran lightly
on the withering grass, or glided on the dry and cracked earth. No voice
was heard in this hot noontide but the faint murmur of the river that
hurried on in swirls and eddies, its sparkling wavelets chasing each
other in their joyous course to the sheltering depths, to the cool
refuge of the sea.

Almayer had dismissed his workmen for the midday rest, and, his little
daughter on his shoulder, ran quickly across the courtyard, making for
the shade of the verandah of his house. He laid the sleepy child on the
seat of the big rocking-chair, on a pillow which he took out of his
own hammock, and stood for a while looking down at her with tender and
pensive eyes. The child, tired and hot, moved uneasily, sighed, and
looked up at him with the veiled look of sleepy fatigue. He picked up
from the floor a broken palm-leaf fan, and began fanning gently the
flushed little face. Her eyelids fluttered and Almayer smiled. A
responsive smile brightened for a second her heavy eyes, broke with a
dimple the soft outline of her cheek; then the eyelids dropped suddenly,
she drew a long breath through the parted lips--and was in a deep sleep
before the fleeting smile could vanish from her face.

Almayer moved lightly off, took one of the wooden armchairs, and placing
it close to the balustrade of the verandah sat down with a sigh of
relief. He spread his elbows on the top rail and resting his chin on his
clasped hands looked absently at the