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Tales of Unrest by Joseph Conrad
page 13 of 205 (06%)
would hail a splash of paddles away in the starlit gloom of the bay; a
voice would respond in cautious tones, and our serang, putting his head
down the open skylight, would inform us without surprise, "That Rajah,
he coming. He here now." Karain appeared noiselessly in the doorway of
the little cabin. He was simplicity itself then; all in white; muffled
about his head; for arms only a kriss with a plain buffalo-horn handle,
which he would politely conceal within a fold of his sarong before
stepping over the threshold. The old sword-bearer's face, the worn-out
and mournful face so covered with wrinkles that it seemed to look out
through the meshes of a fine dark net, could be seen close above his
shoulders. Karain never moved without that attendant, who stood or
squatted close at his back. He had a dislike of an open space
behind him. It was more than a dislike--it resembled fear, a nervous
preoccupation of what went on where he could not see. This, in view of
the evident and fierce loyalty that surrounded him, was inexplicable.
He was there alone in the midst of devoted men; he was safe from
neighbourly ambushes, from fraternal ambitions; and yet more than one of
our visitors had assured us that their ruler could not bear to be alone.
They said, "Even when he eats and sleeps there is always one on the
watch near him who has strength and weapons." There was indeed always
one near him, though our informants had no conception of that watcher's
strength and weapons, which were both shadowy and terrible. We knew, but
only later on, when we had heard the story. Meantime we noticed that,
even during the most important interviews, Karain would often give a
start, and interrupting his discourse, would sweep his arm back with
a sudden movement, to feel whether the old fellow was there. The old
fellow, impenetrable and weary, was always there. He shared his food,
his repose, and his thoughts; he knew his plans, guarded his secrets;
and, impassive behind his master's agitation, without stirring the least
bit, murmured above his head in a soothing tone some words difficult to
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