Joseph Conrad: Heart of Darkness

1. PART I (continued)

"I had no idea why he wanted to be sociable, but as we chatted in there it suddenly occurred to me the fellow was trying to get at something-- in fact, pumping me. He alluded constantly to Europe, to the people I was supposed to know there--putting leading questions as to my acquaintances in the sepulchral city, and so on. His little eyes glittered like mica discs-- with curiosity,--though he tried to keep up a bit of superciliousness. At first I was astonished, but very soon I became awfully curious to see what he would find out from me. I couldn't possibly imagine what I had in me to make it worth his while. It was very pretty to see how he baffled himself, for in truth my body was full of chills, and my head had nothing in it but that wretched steamboat business. It was evident he took me for a perfectly shameless prevaricator. At last he got angry, and to conceal a movement of furious annoyance, he yawned. I rose. Then I noticed a small sketch in oils, on a panel, representing a woman, draped and blindfolded, carrying a lighted torch. The background was somber--almost black. The movement of the woman was stately, and the effect of the torchlight on the face was sinister.

"It arrested me, and he stood by civilly, holding a half-pint champagne bottle (medical comforts) with the candle stuck in it. To my question he said Mr. Kurtz had painted this--in this very station more than a year ago-- while waiting for means to go to his trading-post. `Tell me, pray,' said I, `who is this Mr. Kurtz?'

"`The chief of the Inner Station,' he answered in a short tone, looking away. `Much obliged,' I said, laughing. `And you are the brickmaker of the Central Station. Everyone knows that.' He was silent for a while. `He is a prodigy,' he said at last. `He is an emissary of pity, and science, and progress, and devil knows what else. We want,' he began to declaim suddenly, `for the guidance of the cause intrusted to us by Europe, so to speak, higher intelligence, wide sympathies, a singleness of purpose.' `Who says that?' I asked. `Lots of them,' he replied. `Some even write that; and so HE comes here, a special being, as you ought to know.' `Why ought I to know?' I interrupted, really surprised. He paid no attention. `Yes. To-day he is chief of the best station, next year he will be assistant-manager, two years more and . . . but I dare say you know what he will be in two years' time. You are of the new gang--the gang of virtue. The same people who sent him specially also recommended you. Oh, don't say no. I've my own eyes to trust.' Light dawned upon me. My dear aunt's influential acquaintances were producing an unexpected effect upon that young man. I nearly burst into a laugh. `Do you read the Company's confidential correspondence?' I asked. He hadn't a word to say. It was great fun. `When Mr. Kurtz,' I continued severely, `is General Manager, you won't have the opportunity.'