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responsible for the existence of some fourteen volumes； so far。
The number of geese he had called into being under adverse
climatic conditions was considerably more than fourteen。 The
tale of volumes will never overtake the counting of heads； I am
safe to say； but my ambitions point not exactly that way； and
whatever the pangs the toil of writing has cost me I have always
thought kindly of Almayer。
I wonder； had he known anything of it； what his attitude would
have been？ This is something not to be discovered in this world。
But if we ever meet in the Elysian Fieldswhere I cannot depict
him to myself otherwise than attended in the distance by his
flock of geese （birds sacred to Jupiter）and he addresses me in
the stillness of that passionless region； neither light nor
darkness； neither sound nor silence； and heaving endlessly with
billowy mists from the impalpable multitudes of the swarming
dead； I think I know what answer to make。
I would say； after listening courteously to the unvibrating tone
of his measured remonstrances； which should not disturb； of
course； the solemn eternity of stillness in the leastI would
say something like this：
〃It is true； Almayer； that in the world below I have converted
your name to my own uses。 But that is a very small larceny。
What's in a name； O Shade？ If so much of your old mortal
weakness clings to you yet as to make you feel aggrieved （it was
the note of your earthly voice； Almayer）； then； I entreat you；
seek speech without delay with our sublime fellow…Shadewith him
who； in his transient existence as a poet； commented upon the
smell of the rose。 He will comfort you。 You came to me stripped
of all prestige by men's queer smiles and the disrespectful
chatter of every vagrant trader in the Islands。 Your name was
the common property of the winds： it； as it were； floated naked
over the waters about the Equator。 I wrapped round its
unhonoured form the royal mantle of the tropics and have essayed
to put into the hollow sound the very anguish of paternityfeats
which you did not demand from mebut remember that all the toil
and all the pain were mine。 In your earthly life you haunted me；
Almayer。 Consider that this was taking a great liberty。 Since
you were always complaining of being lost to the world； you
should remember that if I had not believed enough in your
existence to let you haunt my rooms in Bessborough Gardens； you
would have been much more lost。 You affirm that had I been
capable of looking at you with a more perfect detachment and a
greater simplicity； I might have perceived better the inward
marvellousness which； you insist； attended your career upon that
tiny pin…point of light； hardly visible far； far below us； where
both our graves lie。 No doubt！ But reflect； O complaining
Shade！ that this was not so much my fault as your crowning
misfortune。 I believed in you in the only way it was possible
for me to believe。 It was not worthy of your merits？ So be it。
But you were always an unlucky man； Almayer。 Nothing was ever
quite worthy of you。 What made you so real to me was that you
held this lofty theory with some force of conviction and with an
admirable consistency。〃
It is with some such words translated into the proper shadowy
expressions that I am prepared to placate Almayer in the Elysian
Abode of Shades； since it has come to pass that having parted
many years ago； we are never to meet again in this world。
Chapter V。
In the career of the most unliterary of writers； in the sense
that literary ambition had never entered the world of his
imagination； the coming into existence of the first book is quite
an inexplicable event。 In my own case I cannot trace it back to
any mental or psychological cause which one could point out and
hold to。 The greatest of my gifts being a consummate capacity
for doing nothing； I cannot even point to boredom as a rational
stimulus for taking up a pen。 The pen at any rate was there； and
there is nothing wonderful in that。 Everybody keeps a pen （the
cold steel of our days） in his rooms in this enlightened age of
penny stamps and halfpenny postcards。 In fact； this was the
epoch when by means of postcard and pen Mr。 Gladstone had made
the reputation of a novel or two。 And I too had a pen rolling
about somewherethe seldom…used； the reluctantly…taken…up pen of
a sailor ashore； the pen rugged with the dried ink of abandoned
attempts； of answers delayed longer than decency permitted； of
letters begun with infinite reluctance and put off suddenly till
next daytell next week as likely as not！ The neglected；
uncared…for pen； flung away at the slightest provocation； and
under the stress of dire necessity hunted for without enthusiasm；
in a perfunctory； grumpy worry； in the 〃Where the devil is the
beastly thing gone to？〃 ungracious spirit。 Where indeed！ It
might have been reposing behind the sofa for a day or so。 My
landlady's anaemic daughter （as Ollendorff would have expressed
it）； though commendably neat； had a lordly； careless manner of
approaching her domestic duties。 Or it might even be resting
delicately poised on its point by the side of the table…leg； and
when picked up show a gaping； inefficient beak which would have
discouraged any man of literary instincts。 But not me！ 〃Never
mind。 This will do。〃
O days without guile！ If anybody had told me then that a devoted
household； having a generally exaggerated idea of my talents and
importance； would be put into a state of tremor and flurry by the
fuss I would make because of a suspicion that somebody had
touched my sacrosanct pen of authorship； I would have never
deigned as much as the contemptuous smile of unbelief。 There are
imaginings too unlikely for any kind of notice； too wild for
indulgence itself； too absurd for a smile。 Perhaps； had that
seer of the future been a friend； I should have been secretly
saddened。 〃Alas！〃 I would have thought； looking at him with an
unmoved face； 〃the poor fellow is going mad。〃
I would have been； without doubt； saddened； for in this world
where the journalists read the signs of the sky； and the wind of
heaven itself； blowing where it listeth； does so under the
prophetical management of the Meteorological Office； but where
the secret of human hearts cannot be captured either by prying or
praying； it was infinitely more likely that the sanest of my
friends should nurse the germ of incipient madness than that I
should turn into a writer of