"
"Don't you?" said Lingard, thoughtfully.
Willems turned towards Aissa and pointed at her with a bony forefinger.
"Look at her! Always there. Always near. Always watching, watching . . .
for something. Look at her eyes. Ain't they big? Don't they stare? You
wouldn't think she can shut them like human beings do. I don't believe
she ever does. I go to sleep, if I can, under their stare, and when I
wake up I see them fixed on me and moving no more than the eyes of a
corpse. While I am still they are still. By God--she can't move them
till I stir, and then they follow me like a pair of jailers. They watch
me; when I stop they seem to wait patient and glistening till I am off
my guard--for to do something. To do something horrible. Look at them!
You can see nothing in them. They are big, menacing--and empty. The eyes
of a savage; of a damned mongrel, half-Arab, half-Malay. They hurt me!
I am white! I swear to you I can't stand this! Take me away. I am white!
All white!"
He shouted towards the sombre heaven, proclaiming desperately under the
frown of thickening clouds the fact of his pure and superior descent.
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