d unsafe places. Was there, under
heaven, such a thing as justice? He looked at the man before him with
such an intensity of prolonged glance that he seemed to see right
through him, that at last he saw but a floating and unsteady mist in
human shape. Would it blow away before the first breath of the breeze
and leave nothing behind?

The sound of Willems' voice made him start violently. Willems was
saying--

"I have always led a virtuous life; you know I have. You always praised
me for my steadiness; you know you have. You know also I never stole--if
that's what you're thinking of. I borrowed. You know how much I repaid.
It was an error of judgment. But then consider my position there. I had
been a little unlucky in my private affairs, and had debts. Could I
let myself go under before the eyes of all those men who envied me? But
that's all over. It was an error of judgment. I've paid for it. An error
of judgment."

Lingard, astounded into perfect stillness, looked down. He looked down
at Willems' bare feet. Then, as the other had paused, he repeated in a
blank tone--

"An error of judgment . . ."

"Yes," drawled out Willems, thoughtfully, and went on with increasing
animation: "As I said, I have always led a virtuous life. More so than
Hudig--than you. Yes, than you. I drank a little, I played cards a
little. Who doesn't? But I had principles from a boy. Yes, principles.
Business is business, and I never was an ass. I never respected fools.
They had to suffer for their folly when they dealt with me. The evil was
in them, not in me. But as to principles, it's another matter. I kept
clear of women. It's forbidden--I had no time--and I despised them. Now
I hate them!"

He put his tongue out a little; a tongue whose pink and moist end ran
here and there, like something independently alive, under his swollen
and blackened lip; he touched with the tips of his fingers the cut on
his cheek, felt all round it with precaution: and the unharmed side of
his face appeared for a moment to be preoccupied and uneasy about the
state of that other side which was so very sore and stiff.

He recommenced speaking, and his voice vibrated as though with repressed
emotion of some kind.

"You ask my wife, when you see her in Macassar, whether I have no reason
to hate her. She was nobody, and I made her Mrs. Willems. A half-caste
girl! You ask her how she showed her gratitude to me. You ask . . .
Never mind that. Well, you came and du