The light breeze from the
river swayed gently the tattered blinds, sending from the woods opposite
a faint and sickly perfume as of decaying flowers.
Under Almayer's heavy tread the boards of the verandah creaked loudly.
The sleeper in the corner moved uneasily, muttering indistinct words.
There was a slight rustle behind the curtained doorway, and a soft voice
asked in Malay, "Is it you, father?"
"Yes, Nina. I am hungry. Is everybody asleep in this house?"
Almayer spoke jovially and dropped with a contented sigh into the
armchair nearest to the table. Nina Almayer came through the curtained
doorway followed by an old Malay woman, who busied herself in setting
upon the table a plateful of rice and fish, a jar of water, and a bottle
half full of genever. After carefully placing before her master a
cracked glass tumbler and a tin spoon she went away noiselessly. Nina
stood by the table, one hand lightly resting on its edge, the other
hanging listlessly by her side. Her face turned towards the outer
darkness, through which her dreamy eyes seemed to see some entrancing
picture, wore a look of impatient expectancy. She was tall for a half-
caste, with the correct profile of the father, modified and strengthened
by the squareness of the lower part of the face inherited from her
maternal ancestors--the Sulu pirates.
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