Amok and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

embittered as I was—I resisted. Once again I made myself sound objective, indeed almost ironic.
    ‘Oh, and you would … would place this large sum of money at my disposal?’
    ‘For your help, and then your immediate departure.’
    ‘Do you realise that would lose me my pension?’
    ‘I will compensate you.’
    ‘You’re very clear in your mind about it … but I would like even more clarity. What sum did you envisage as a fee?’
    ‘Twelve thousand guilders, payable by cheque when you reach Amsterdam.’
    I trembled … I trembled with anger and … yes, with admiration again too. She had worked it all out, the sum and the manner of its payment, which would oblige me to leave this part of the world, she had assessed me and bought me before she even met me, had made arrangements for me in anticipation of getting her own way.I would have liked to strike her in the face, but as I stood there shaking—she too had risen to her feet—and I looked her straight in the eye, the sight of her closed mouth that refused to plead, her haughty brow that would not bend, a … a kind of violent desire overcame me. She must have felt something of it, for she raised her eyebrows as one would to dismiss a trouble-maker; the hostility between us was suddenly in the open. I knew she hated me because she needed me, and I hated her because … well, because she would not plead. In that one single second of silence we spoke to each other honestly for the first time. Then an idea suddenly came to me, like the bite of a reptile, and I told her … I told her …
    But wait a moment, or you’ll misunderstand what I did … what I said. First I must explain how … well, how that deranged idea came into my mind.”
     
    Once again the glass clinked softly in the dark, and the voice became more agitated.
    “Not that I want to make excuses, justify myself, clear myself of blame … but otherwise you won’t understand. I don’t know if I have ever been what might be called a good man, but … well, I think I was always helpful. In the wretched life I lived over there, the only pleasure I had was using what knowledge was contained in my brain to keep some living creature breathing … an almost divine pleasure. It’s a fact, those were my happiest moments, for instance when one of the natives came along, pale withfright, his swollen foot bitten by a snake, howling not to have his leg cut off, and I managed to save him. I’ve travelled for hours to see a woman in a fever—and as for the kind of help my visitor wanted, I’d already given that in the hospital in Europe. But then I could at least feel that these people needed me, that I was saving someone from death or despair—and the feeling of being needed was my way of helping myself.
    But this woman—I don’t know if I can describe it to you—she had irritated and intrigued me from the moment when she had arrived, apparently just strolling casually in. Her provocative arrogance made me resist, she caused everything in me that was—how shall I put it?—everything in me that was suppressed, hidden, wicked, to oppose her. Playing the part of a great lady, meddling in matters of life and death with unapproachable aplomb … it drove me mad. And then … well, after all, no woman gets pregnant just from playing golf. I knew, that is to say I reminded myself with terrible clarity—and this is when my idea came to me—that this cool, haughty, cold woman, raising her eyebrows above her steely eyes if I so much as looked at her askance and parried her demands, had been rolling in bed with a man in the heat of passion two or three months ago, naked as an animal and perhaps groaning with desire, their bodies pressing as close as a pair of lips. That was the idea burning in my mind as she looked at me with such unapproachable coolness, proud as an English army officer … and then everything in me braced itself, I was possessed by the idea of humiliating her. From that moment on, I felt I