Lord Jim

by Joseph Conrad

‘Yes! yes! One talks, one talks; this is all very fine; but at the end of the reckoning one is no cleverer than the next man—and no more brave. Brave! This is always to be seen. I have rolled my hump (roulé ma bosse),’ he said, using the slang expression with imperturbable seriousness, ‘in all parts of the world; I have known brave men—famous ones! Allez!’. . . He drank carelessly. . . . ‘Brave—you conceive—in the Service—one has got to be—the trade demands it (le métier veut ca). Is it not so?’ he appealed to me reasonably. ‘Eh bien! Each of them—I say each of them, if he were an honest man—bien entendu—would confess that there is a point—there is a point—for the best of us—there is somewhere a point when you let go everything (vous lachez tout). And you have got to live with that truth—do you see? Given a certain combination of circumstances, fear is sure to come. Abominable funk (un trac épouvantable). And even for those who do not believe this truth there is fear all the same—the fear of themselves. Absolutely so. Trust me. Yes. Yes . . . At my age one knows what one is talking about—que diable!’. . . He had delivered himself of all this as immovably as though he had been the mouthpiece of abstract wisdom, but at this point he heightened the effect of detachment by beginning to twirl his thumbs slowly. ‘It’s evident—parbleu!’ he continued; ‘for, make up your mind as much as you like, even a simple headache or a fit of indigestion (un dérangement d’estomac) is enough to...