But still we crawled. Sometimes I would pick out a tree a little way ahead to measure our progress towards Kurtz by, but I lost it invariably before we got abreast. To keep the eyes so long on one thing was too much for human patience.
The manager displayed a beautiful resignation. I fretted and fumed and took to arguing with myself whether or no I would talk openly with Kurtz; but before I could come to any conclusion it occurred to me that my speech or my silence, indeed any action of mine, would be a mere futility. What did it matter what any one knew or ignored? What did it matter who was manager? One gets sometimes such a flash of insight. The essentials of this affair lay deep under the surface, beyond my reach, and beyond my power of meddling.
Towards the evening of the second day we judged ourselves about eight miles from Kurtz's station.
Text provided by Project Gutenberg. Audio by LiteralSystems, told by David Kirkwood with narration by Tom Franks, through the generous support of Gordon W. Draper. Audio copyright, 2007 LoudLit.org, some rights reserved. Flash mp3 player by Jeroen Wijering. (cc) some rights reserved. Web page presentation by LoudLit.org.