You have spoken your last words to the Tuan Putih, your father.

Come." She hesitated for a while, looking at Almayer, who kept his eyes steadily on the sea, then she touched his forehead in a lingering kiss, and a tear--one of her tears--fell on his cheek and ran down his immovable face.
"Goodbye," she whispered, and remained irresolute till he pushed her suddenly into Dain's arms.
"If you have any pity for me," murmured Almayer, as if repeating some sentence learned by heart, "take that woman away." He stood very straight, his shoulders thrown back, his head held high, and looked at them as they went down the beach to the canoe, walking enlaced in each other's arms.

He looked at the line of their footsteps marked in the sand.

He followed their figures moving in the crude blaze of the vertical sun, in that light violent and vibrating, like a triumphal flourish of brazen trumpets.

He looked at the man's brown shoulders, at the red sarong round his waist; at the tall, slender, dazzling white figure he supported.