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the oppressive shadow of the great Russian Empirethe shadow
lowering with the darkness of a new…born national hatred fostered
by the Moscow school of journalists against the Poles after the
ill…omened rising of 1863。
This is a far cry back from the MS。 of 〃Almayer's Folly；〃 but the
public record of these formative impressions is not the whim of
an uneasy egotism。 These； too； are things human； already distant
in their appeal。 It is meet that something more should be left
for the novelist's children than the colours and figures of his
own hard…won creation。 That which in their grown…up years may
appear to the world about them as the most enigmatic side of
their natures and perhaps must remain for ever obscure even to
themselves； will be their unconscious response to the still voice
of that inexorable past from which his work of fiction and their
personalities are remotely derived。
Only in men's imagination does every truth find an effective and
undeniable existence。 Imagination； not invention； is the supreme
master of art as of life。 An imaginative and exact rendering of
authentic memories may serve worthily that spirit of piety
towards all things human which sanctions the conceptions of a
writer of tales； and the emotions of the man reviewing his own
experience。
Chapter II。
As I have said； I was unpacking my luggage after a journey from
London into Ukraine。 The MS。 of 〃Almayer's Folly〃my companion
already for some three years or more； and then in the ninth
chapter of its agewas deposited unostentatiously on the
writing…table placed between two windows。 It didn't occur to me
to put it away in the drawer the table was fitted with； but my
eye was attracted by the good form of the same drawer's brass
handles。 Two candelabra with four candles each lighted up
festally the room which had waited so many years for the
wandering nephew。 The blinds were down。
Within five hundred yards of the chair on which I sat stood the
first peasant hut of the villagepart of my maternal
grandfather's estate； the only part remaining in the possession
of a member of the family； and beyond the village in the
limitless blackness of a winter's night there lay the great
unfenced fieldsnot a flat and severe plain； but a kindly bread…
giving land of low rounded ridges； all white now； with the black
patches of timber nestling in the hollows。 The road by which I
had come ran through the village with a turn just outside the
gates closing the short drive。 Somebody was abroad on the deep
snowtrack； a quick tinkle of bells stole gradually into the
stillness of the room like a tuneful whisper。
My unpacking had been watched over by the servant who had come to
help me； and； for the most part； had been standing attentive but
unnecessary at the door of the room。 I did not want him in the
least； but I did not like to tell him to go away。 He was a young
fellow； certainly more than ten years younger than myself； I had
not beenI won't say in that place but within sixty miles of it；
ever since the year '67； yet his guileless physiognomy of the
open peasant type seemed strangely familiar。 It was quite
possible that he might have been a descendant； a son or even a
grandson； of the servants whose friendly faces had been familiar
to me in my early childhood。 As a matter of fact he had no such
claim on my consideration。 He was the product of some village
near by and was there on his promotion； having learned the
service in one or two houses as pantry…boy。 I know this because
I asked the worthy V next day。 I might well have spared the
question。 I discovered before long that all the faces about the
house and all the faces in the village： the grave faces with
long moustaches of the heads of families； the downy faces of the
young men； the faces of the little fair…haired children； the
handsome； tanned； wide…browed faces of the mothers seen at the
doors of the huts were as familiar to me as though I had known
them all from childhood； and my childhood were a matter of the
day before yesterday。
The tinkle of the traveller's bels； after growing louder； had
faded away quickly； and the tumult of barking dogs in the village
had calmed down at last。 My uncle； lounging in the corner of a
small couch； smoked his long Turkish chibouk in silence。
〃This is an extremely nice writing…table you have got for my
room；〃 I remarked。
〃It is really your property；〃 he said； keeping his eyes on me；
with an interested and wistful expression as he had done ever
since I had entered the house。 〃Forty years ago your mother used
to write at this very table。 In our house in Oratow it stood in
the little sitting…room which； by a tacit arrangement； was given
up to the girlsI mean to your mother and her sister who died so
young。 It was a present to them jointly from our uncle Nicholas
B。 when your mother was seventeen and your aunt two years
younger。 She was a very dear； delightful girl； that aunt of
yours； of whom I suppose you know nothing more than the name。
She did not shine so much by personal beauty and a cultivated
mind； in which your mother was far superior。 It was her good
sense； the admirable sweetness of her nature； her exceptional
facility and ease in daily relations that endeared her to
everybody。 Her death was a terrible grief and a serious moral
loss for us all。 Had she lived she would have brought the
greatest blessings to the house it would have been her lot to
enter； as wife； mother and mistress of a household。 She would
have created round herself an atmosphere of peace and content
which only those who can love unselfishly are able to evoke。
Your motherof far greater beauty； exceptionally distinguished
in person； manner and intellecthad a less easy disposition。
Being more brilliantly gifted she also expected more from life。
At that trying time especially； we were greatly concerned about
her state。 Suffering in her health from the shock of her
father's death （she was alone in the house with him when he died
suddenly）； she was torn by the inward struggle between her love
for the man whom she was to marry in the end and her knowledge of
her dead father's declared objection to that match。 Unable to
bring herself to disregard that cherished memory and that
judgment she had always respected and trusted； and； on the other
hand； feeling the impossibility to resist a sentiment so deep and
so true； she could not have been expected to preserve her mental
and mo