youmay
have
wine
,
”
replied
the
mother
automatically
,
for
she
was
perfectly
indifferent
to
the
question
.
And
Diana
beckoned
to
the
footman
to
fill
her
glass
.
“
Gerald
shouldn’t
forbid
me
,
”
she
said
calmly
,
to
the
company
at
large
.
“
All
right
,
Di
,
”
said
her
brother
amiably
.
And
she
glanced
challenge
at
him
as
she
drank
from
her
glass
.
There
was
a
strange
freedom
,
that
almost
amounted
to
anarchy
,
in
the
house
.
It
was
rather
a
resistance
to
authority
,
than
liberty
.
Gerald
had
some
command
,
by
mere
force
of
personality
,
not
because
of
any
granted
position
.
There
was
a
quality
in
his
voice
,
amiable
but
dominant
,
that
cowed
the
others
,
who
were
all
younger
than
he
.
Hermione
was
having
a
discussion
with
the
bridegroom
about
nationality
.
“
No
,
”
she
said
,
“
I
think
that
the
appeal
to
patriotism
is
a
mistake
.
It
is
like
one
house
of
business
rivalling
another
house
of
business
.
”
“
Well
you
can
hardly
say
that
,
can
you
?
”
exclaimed
Gerald
,
who
had
a
real
passion
for
discussion
.
“
You
couldn’t
call
a
race
a
business
concern
,
could
you
?
—
and
nationality
roughly
corresponds
to
race
,
I
think
.
I
think
it
is
meant
to
.
”
There
was
a
moment’s
pause
.
Gerald
and
Hermione
were
always
strangely
but
politely
and
evenly
inimical
.
“
Do
you
think
race
corresponds
with
nationality
?
”
she
asked
musingly
,
with
expressionless
indecision
.
Birkin
knew
she
was
waiting
for
him
to
participate
.
And
dutifully
he
spoke
up
.
“
I
think
Gerald
is
right
—
race
is
the
essential
element
in
nationality
,
in
Europe
at
least
,
”
he
said
.
Again
Hermione
paused
,
as
if
to
allow
this
statement
to
cool
.
Then
she
said
with
strange
assumption
of
authority
:
“
Yes
,
but
even
so
,
is
the
patriotic
appeal
an
appeal
to
the
racial
instinct
?
Is
it
not
rather
an
appeal
to
the
proprietory
instinct
,
the
commercial
instinct
?
And
isn’t
this
what
we
mean
by
nationality
?
”
“
Probably
,
”
said
Birkin
,
who
felt
that
such
a
discussion
was
out
of
place
and
out
of
time
.
But
Gerald
was
now
on
the
scent
of
argument
.
“
A
race
may
have
its
commercial
aspect
,
”
he
said
.
“
In
fact
it
must
.
It
is
like
a
family
.
You
must
make
provision
.
And
to
make
provision
you
have
got
to
strive
against
other
families
,
other
nations
.
I
don’t
see
why
you
shouldn’t
.
”
Again
Hermione
made
a
pause
,
domineering
and
cold
,
before
she
replied
:
“
Yes
,
I
think
it
is
always
wrong
to
provoke
a
spirit
of
rivalry
.
It
makes
bad
blood
.
And
bad
blood
accumulates
.
”
“
But
you
can’t
do
away
with
the
spirit
of
emulation
altogether
?
”
said
Gerald
.
“
It
is
one
of
the
necessary
incentives
to
production
and
improvement
.
”
“
Yes
,
”
came
Hermione’s
sauntering
response
.
“
I
think
you
can
do
away
with
it
.
”
“
I
must
say
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
I
detest
the
spirit
of
emulation
.
”
Hermione
was
biting
a
piece
of
bread
,
pulling
it
from
between
her
teeth
with
her
fingers
,
in
a
slow
,
slightly
derisive
movement
.
She
turned
to
Birkin
.
“
You
do
hate
it
,
yes
,
”
she
said
,
intimate
and
gratified
.
“
Detest
it
,
”
he
repeated
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
murmured
,
assured
and
satisfied
.
“
But
,
”
Gerald
insisted
,
“
you
don’t
allow
one
man
to
take
away
his
neighbour’s
living
,
so
why
should
you
allow
one
nation
to
take
away
the
living
from
another
nation
?
”
There
was
a
long
slow
murmur
from
Hermione
before
she
broke
into
speech
,
saying
with
a
laconic
indifference
:
“
It
is
not
always
a
question
of
possessions
,
is
it
?
It
is
not
all
a
question
of
goods
?
”
Gerald
was
nettled
by
this
implication
of
vulgar
materialism
.
“
Yes
,
more
or
less
,
”
he
retorted
.
“
If
I
go
and
take
a
man’s
hat
from
off
his
head
,
that
hat
becomes
a
symbol
of
that
man’s
liberty
.
When
he
fights
me
for
his
hat
,
he
is
fighting
me
for
his
liberty
.
”
Hermione
was
nonplussed
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
,
irritated
.
“
But
that
way
of
arguing
by
imaginary
instances
is
not
supposed
to
be
genuine
,
is
it
?
A
man
does
not
come
and
take
my
hat
from
off
my
head
,
does
he
?
”
“
Only
because
the
law
prevents
him
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Not
only
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Ninety-nine
men
out
of
a
hundred
don’t
want
my
hat
.
”
“
That’s
a
matter
of
opinion
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Or
the
hat
,
”
laughed
the
bridegroom
.
“
And
if
he
does
want
my
hat
,
such
as
it
is
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
why
,
surely
it
is
open
to
me
to
decide
,
which
is
a
greater
loss
to
me
,
my
hat
,
or
my
liberty
as
a
free
and
indifferent
man
.
If
I
am
compelled
to
offer
fight
,
I
lose
the
latter
.
It
is
a
question
which
is
worth
more
to
me
,
my
pleasant
liberty
of
conduct
,
or
my
hat
.
”
“
Yes
,
”
said
Hermione
,
watching
Birkin
strangely
.
“
Yes
.
”
“
But
would
you
let
somebody
come
and
snatch
your
hat
off
your
head
?
”
the
bride
asked
of
Hermione
.
The
face
of
the
tall
straight
woman
turned
slowly
and
as
if
drugged
to
this
new
speaker
.
“
No
,
”
she
replied
,
in
a
low
inhuman
tone
,
that
seemed
to
contain
a
chuckle
.
“
No
,
I
shouldn’t
let
anybody
take
my
hat
off
my
head
.
”
“
How
would
you
prevent
it
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
replied
Hermione
slowly
.
“
Probably
I
should
kill
him
.
”
There
was
a
strange
chuckle
in
her
tone
,
a
dangerous
and
convincing
humour
in
her
bearing
.
“
Of
course
,
”
said
Gerald
,
“
I
can
see
Rupert’s
point
.
It
is
a
question
to
him
whether
his
hat
or
his
peace
of
mind
is
more
important
.
”
“
Peace
of
body
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Well
,
as
you
like
there
,
”
replied
Gerald
.
“
But
how
are
you
going
to
decide
this
for
a
nation
?
”
“
Heaven
preserve
me
,
”
laughed
Birkin
.
“
Yes
,
but
suppose
you
have
to
?
”
Gerald
persisted
.
“
Then
it
is
the
same
.
If
the
national
crown-piece
is
an
old
hat
,
then
the
thieving
gent
may
have
it
.
”
“
But
can
the
national
or
racial
hat
be
an
old
hat
?
”
insisted
Gerald
.
“
Pretty
well
bound
to
be
,
I
believe
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
I’m
not
so
sure
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
I
don’t
agree
,
Rupert
,
”
said
Hermione
.
“
All
right
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
I’m
all
for
the
old
national
hat
,
”
laughed
Gerald
.
“
And
a
fool
you
look
in
it
,
”
cried
Diana
,
his
pert
sister
who
was
just
in
her
teens
.
“
Oh
,
we’re
quite
out
of
our
depths
with
these
old
hats
,
”
cried
Laura
Crich
.
“
Dry
up
now
,
Gerald
.
We’re
going
to
drink
toasts
.
Let
us
drink
toasts
.
Toasts
—
glasses
,
glasses
—
now
then
,
toasts
!
Speech
!
Speech
!
”
Birkin
,
thinking
about
race
or
national
death
,
watched
his
glass
being
filled
with
champagne
.
The
bubbles
broke
at
the
rim
,
the
man
withdrew
,
and
feeling
a
sudden
thirst
at
the
sight
of
the
fresh
wine
,
Birkin
drank
up
his
glass
.
A
queer
little
tension
in
the
room
roused
him
.
He
felt
a
sharp
constraint
.
“
Did
I
do
it
by
accident
,
or
on
purpose
?
”
he
asked
himself
.
And
he
decided
that
,
according
to
the
vulgar
phrase
,
he
had
done
it
“
accidentally
on
purpose
.
”
He
looked
round
at
the
hired
footman
.
And
the
hired
footman
came
,
with
a
silent
step
of
cold
servant-like
disapprobation
.
Birkin
decided
that
he
detested
toasts
,
and
footmen
,
and
assemblies
,
and
mankind
altogether
,
in
most
of
its
aspects
.
Then
he
rose
to
make
a
speech
.
But
he
was
somehow
disgusted
.
At
length
it
was
over
,
the
meal
.
Several
men
strolled
out
into
the
garden
.
There
was
a
lawn
,
and
flower-beds
,
and
at
the
boundary
an
iron
fence
shutting
off
the
little
field
or
park
.
The
view
was
pleasant
;
a
highroad
curving
round
the
edge
of
a
low
lake
,
under
the
trees
.
In
the
spring
air
,
the
water
gleamed
and
the
opposite
woods
were
purplish
with
new
life
.
Charming
Jersey
cattle
came
to
the
fence
,
breathing
hoarsely
from
their
velvet
muzzles
at
the
human
beings
,
expecting
perhaps
a
crust
.
Birkin
leaned
on
the
fence
.
A
cow
was
breathing
wet
hotness
on
his
hand
.
“
Pretty
cattle
,
very
pretty
,
”
said
Marshall
,
one
of
the
brothers-in-law
.
“
They
give
the
best
milk
you
can
have
.
”
“
Yes
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Eh
,
my
little
beauty
,
eh
,
my
beauty
!
”
said
Marshall
,
in
a
queer
high
falsetto
voice
,
that
caused
the
other
man
to
have
convulsions
of
laughter
in
his
stomach
.
“
Who
won
the
race
,
Lupton
?
”
he
called
to
the
bridegroom
,
to
hide
the
fact
that
he
was
laughing
.
The
bridegroom
took
his
cigar
from
his
mouth
.
“
The
race
?
”
he
exclaimed
.
Then
a
rather
thin
smile
came
over
his
face
.
He
did
not
want
to
say
anything
about
the
flight
to
the
church
door
.
“
We
got
there
together
.
At
least
she
touched
first
,
but
I
had
my
hand
on
her
shoulder
.
”
“
What’s
this
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
Birkin
told
him
about
the
race
of
the
bride
and
the
bridegroom
.
“
H’m
!
”
said
Gerald
,
in
disapproval
.
“
What
made
you
late
then
?
”
“
Lupton
would
talk
about
the
immortality
of
the
soul
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
and
then
he
hadn’t
got
a
button-hook
.
”
“
Oh
God
!
”
cried
Marshall
.
“
The
immortality
of
the
soul
on
your
wedding
day
!
Hadn’t
you
got
anything
better
to
occupy
your
mind
?
”
“
What’s
wrong
with
it
?
”
asked
the
bridegroom
,
a
clean-shaven
naval
man
,
flushing
sensitively
.
“
Sounds
as
if
you
were
going
to
be
executed
instead
of
married
.
The
immortality
of
the
soul
!
”
repeated
the
brother-in-law
,
with
most
killing
emphasis
.
But
he
fell
quite
flat
.
“
And
what
did
you
decide
?
”
asked
Gerald
,
at
once
pricking
up
his
ears
at
the
thought
of
a
metaphysical
discussion
.
“
You
don’t
want
a
soul
today
,
my
boy
,
”
said
Marshall
.
“
It’d
be
in
your
road
.
”
“
Christ
!
Marshall
,
go
and
talk
to
somebody
else
,
”
cried
Gerald
,
with
sudden
impatience
.
“
By
God
,
I’m
willing
,
”
said
Marshall
,
in
a
temper
.
“
Too
much
bloody
soul
and
talk
altogether
—
”
He
withdrew
in
a
dudgeon
,
Gerald
staring
after
him
with
angry
eyes
,
that
grew
gradually
calm
and
amiable
as
the
stoutly-built
form
of
the
other
man
passed
into
the
distance
.
“
There’s
one
thing
,
Lupton
,
”
said
Gerald
,
turning
suddenly
to
the
bridegroom
.
“
Laura
won’t
have
brought
such
a
fool
into
the
family
as
Lottie
did
.
”
“
Comfort
yourself
with
that
,
”
laughed
Birkin
.
“
I
take
no
notice
of
them
,
”
laughed
the
bridegroom
.
“
What
about
this
race
then
—
who
began
it
?
”
Gerald
asked
.
“
We
were
late
.
Laura
was
at
the
top
of
the
churchyard
steps
when
our
cab
came
up
.
She
saw
Lupton
bolting
towards
her
.
And
she
fled
.
But
why
do
you
look
so
cross
?
Does
it
hurt
your
sense
of
the
family
dignity
?
”
“
It
does
,
rather
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
If
you’re
doing
a
thing
,
do
it
properly
,
and
if
you’re
not
going
to
do
it
properly
,
leave
it
alone
.
”
“
Very
nice
aphorism
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Don’t
you
agree
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
Quite
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Only
it
bores
me
rather
,
when
you
become
aphoristic
.
”
“
Damn
you
,
Rupert
,
you
want
all
the
aphorisms
your
own
way
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
No.
I
want
them
out
of
the
way
,
and
you’re
always
shoving
them
in
it
.
”
Gerald
smiled
grimly
at
this
humorism
.
Then
he
made
a
little
gesture
of
dismissal
,
with
his
eyebrows
.
“
You
don’t
believe
in
having
any
standard
of
behaviour
at
all
,
do
you
?
”
he
challenged
Birkin
,
censoriously
.
“
Standard
—
no.
I
hate
standards
.
But
they’re
necessary
for
the
common
ruck
.
Anybody
who
is
anything
can
just
be
himself
and
do
as
he
likes
.
”
“
But
what
do
you
mean
by
being
himself
?
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Is
that
an
aphorism
or
a
cliché
?
”
“
I
mean
just
doing
what
you
want
to
do
.
I
think
it
was
perfect
good
form
in
Laura
to
bolt
from
Lupton
to
the
church
door
.
It
was
almost
a
masterpiece
in
good
form
.
It’s
the
hardest
thing
in
the
world
to
act
spontaneously
on
one’s
impulses
—
and
it’s
the
only
really
gentlemanly
thing
to
do
—
provided
you’re
fit
to
do
it
.
”
“
You
don’t
expect
me
to
take
you
seriously
,
do
you
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
Yes
,
Gerald
,
you’re
one
of
the
very
few
people
I
do
expect
that
of
.
”
“
Then
I’m
afraid
I
can’t
come
up
to
your
expectations
here
,
at
any
rate
.
You
think
people
should
just
do
as
they
like
.
”
“
I
think
they
always
do
.
But
I
should
like
them
to
like
the
purely
individual
thing
in
themselves
,
which
makes
them
act
in
singleness
.
And
they
only
like
to
do
the
collective
thing
.
”
“
And
I
,
”
said
Gerald
grimly
,
“
shouldn’t
like
to
be
in
a
world
of
people
who
acted
individually
and
spontaneously
,
as
you
call
it
.
We
should
have
everybody
cutting
everybody
else’s
throat
in
five
minutes
.
”
“
That
means
you
would
like
to
be
cutting
everybody’s
throat
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
How
does
that
follow
?
”
asked
Gerald
crossly
.
“
No
man
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
cuts
another
man’s
throat
unless
he
wants
to
cut
it
,
and
unless
the
other
man
wants
it
cutting
.
This
is
a
complete
truth
.
It
takes
two
people
to
make
a
murder
:
a
murderer
and
a
murderee
.
And
a
murderee
is
a
man
who
is
murderable
.
And
a
man
who
is
murderable
is
a
man
who
in
a
profound
if
hidden
lust
desires
to
be
murdered
.
”
“
Sometimes
you
talk
pure
nonsense
,
”
said
Gerald
to
Birkin
.
“
As
a
matter
of
fact
,
none
of
us
wants
our
throat
cut
,
and
most
other
people
would
like
to
cut
it
for
us
—
some
time
or
other
—
”
“
It’s
a
nasty
view
of
things
,
Gerald
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
and
no
wonder
you
are
afraid
of
yourself
and
your
own
unhappiness
.
”
“
How
am
I
afraid
of
myself
?
”
said
Gerald
;
“
and
I
don’t
think
I
am
unhappy
.
”
“
You
seem
to
have
a
lurking
desire
to
have
your
gizzard
slit
,
and
imagine
every
man
has
his
knife
up
his
sleeve
for
you
,
”
Birkin
said
.
“
How
do
you
make
that
out
?
”
said
Gerald
.
“
From
you
,
”
said
Birkin
.
There
was
a
pause
of
strange
enmity
between
the
two
men
,
that
was
very
near
to
love
.
It
was
always
the
same
between
them
;
always
their
talk
brought
them
into
a
deadly
nearness
of
contact
,
a
strange
,
perilous
intimacy
which
was
either
hate
or
love
,
or
both
.
They
parted
with
apparent
unconcern
,
as
if
their
going
apart
were
a
trivial
occurrence
.
And
they
really
kept
it
to
the
level
of
trivial
occurrence
.
Yet
the
heart
of
each
burned
from
the
other
.
They
burned
with
each
other
,
inwardly
.
This
they
would
never
admit
.
They
intended
to
keep
their
relationship
a
casual
free-and-easy
friendship
,
they
were
not
going
to
be
so
unmanly
and
unnatural
as
to
allow
any
heart-burning
between
them
.
They
had
not
the
faintest
belief
in
deep
relationship
between
men
and
men
,
and
their
disbelief
prevented
any
development
of
their
powerful
but
suppressed
friendliness
.
CHAPTER
III
.
CLASS-ROOM
A
school-day
was
drawing
to
a
close
.
In
the
class-room
the
last
lesson
was
in
progress
,
peaceful
and
still
.
It
was
elementary
botany
.
The
desks
were
littered
with
catkins
,
hazel
and
willow
,
which
the
children
had
been
sketching
.
But
the
sky
had
come
overdark
,
as
the
end
of
the
afternoon
approached
:
there
was
scarcely
light
to
draw
any
more
.
Ursula
stood
in
front
of
the
class
,
leading
the
children
by
questions
to
understand
the
structure
and
the
meaning
of
the
catkins
.
A
heavy
,
copper-coloured
beam
of
light
came
in
at
the
west
window
,
gilding
the
outlines
of
the
children’s
heads
with
red
gold
,
and
falling
on
the
wall
opposite
in
a
rich
,
ruddy
illumination
.
Ursula
,
however
,
was
scarcely
conscious
of
it
.
She
was
busy
,
the
end
of
the
day
was
here
,
the
work
went
on
as
a
peaceful
tide
that
is
at
flood
,
hushed
to
retire
.
This
day
had
gone
by
like
so
many
more
,
in
an
activity
that
was
like
a
trance
.
At
the
end
there
was
a
little
haste
,
to
finish
what
was
in
hand
.
She
was
pressing
the
children
with
questions
,
so
that
they
should
know
all
they
were
to
know
,
by
the
time
the
gong
went
.
She
stood
in
shadow
in
front
of
the
class
,
with
catkins
in
her
hand
,
and
she
leaned
towards
the
children
,
absorbed
in
the
passion
of
instruction
.
She
heard
,
but
did
not
notice
the
click
of
the
door
.
Suddenly
she
started
.
She
saw
,
in
the
shaft
of
ruddy
,
copper-coloured
light
near
her
,
the
face
of
a
man
.
It
was
gleaming
like
fire
,
watching
her
,
waiting
for
her
to
be
aware
.
It
startled
her
terribly
.
She
thought
she
was
going
to
faint
.
All
her
suppressed
,
subconscious
fear
sprang
into
being
,
with
anguish
.
“
Did
I
startle
you
?
”
said
Birkin
,
shaking
hands
with
her
.
“
I
thought
you
had
heard
me
come
in
.
”
“
No
,
”
she
faltered
,
scarcely
able
to
speak
.
He
laughed
,
saying
he
was
sorry
.
She
wondered
why
it
amused
him
.
“
It
is
so
dark
,
”
he
said
.
“
Shall
we
have
the
light
?
”
And
moving
aside
,
he
switched
on
the
strong
electric
lights
.
The
class-room
was
distinct
and
hard
,
a
strange
place
after
the
soft
dim
magic
that
filled
it
before
he
came
.
Birkin
turned
curiously
to
look
at
Ursula
.
Her
eyes
were
round
and
wondering
,
bewildered
,
her
mouth
quivered
slightly
.
She
looked
like
one
who
is
suddenly
wakened
.
There
was
a
living
,
tender
beauty
,
like
a
tender
light
of
dawn
shining
from
her
face
.
He
looked
at
her
with
a
new
pleasure
,
feeling
gay
in
his
heart
,
irresponsible
.
“
You
are
doing
catkins
?
”
he
asked
,
picking
up
a
piece
of
hazel
from
a
scholar’s
desk
in
front
of
him
.
“
Are
they
as
far
out
as
this
?
I
hadn’t
noticed
them
this
year
.
”
He
looked
absorbedly
at
the
tassel
of
hazel
in
his
hand
.
“
The
red
ones
too
!
”
he
said
,
looking
at
the
flickers
of
crimson
that
came
from
the
female
bud
.
Then
he
went
in
among
the
desks
,
to
see
the
scholars’
books
.
Ursula
watched
his
intent
progress
.
There
was
a
stillness
in
his
motion
that
hushed
the
activities
of
her
heart
.
She
seemed
to
be
standing
aside
in
arrested
silence
,
watching
him
move
in
another
,
concentrated
world
.
His
presence
was
so
quiet
,
almost
like
a
vacancy
in
the
corporate
air
.
Suddenly
he
lifted
his
face
to
her
,
and
her
heart
quickened
at
the
flicker
of
his
voice
.
“
Give
them
some
crayons
,
won’t
you
?
”
he
said
,
“
so
that
they
can
make
the
gynaecious
flowers
red
,
and
the
androgynous
yellow
.
I’d
chalk
them
in
plain
,
chalk
in
nothing
else
,
merely
the
red
and
the
yellow
.
Outline
scarcely
matters
in
this
case
.
There
is
just
the
one
fact
to
emphasise
.
”
“
I
haven’t
any
crayons
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
There
will
be
some
somewhere
—
red
and
yellow
,
that’s
all
you
want
.
”
Ursula
sent
out
a
boy
on
a
quest
.
“
It
will
make
the
books
untidy
,
”
she
said
to
Birkin
,
flushing
deeply
.
“
Not
very
,
”
he
said
.
“
You
must
mark
in
these
things
obviously
.
It’s
the
fact
you
want
to
emphasise
,
not
the
subjective
impression
to
record
.
What’s
the
fact
?
—
red
little
spiky
stigmas
of
the
female
flower
,
dangling
yellow
male
catkin
,
yellow
pollen
flying
from
one
to
the
other
.
Make
a
pictorial
record
of
the
fact
,
as
a
child
does
when
drawing
a
face
—
two
eyes
,
one
nose
,
mouth
with
teeth
—
so
—
”
And
he
drew
a
figure
on
the
blackboard
.
At
that
moment
another
vision
was
seen
through
the
glass
panels
of
the
door
.
It
was
Hermione
Roddice
.
Birkin
went
and
opened
to
her
.
“
I
saw
your
car
,
”
she
said
to
him
.
“
Do
you
mind
my
coming
to
find
you
?
I
wanted
to
see
you
when
you
were
on
duty
.
”
She
looked
at
him
for
a
long
time
,
intimate
and
playful
,
then
she
gave
a
short
little
laugh
.
And
then
only
she
turned
to
Ursula
,
who
,
with
all
the
class
,
had
been
watching
the
little
scene
between
the
lovers
.
“
How
do
you
do
,
Miss
Brangwen
,
”
sang
Hermione
,
in
her
low
,
odd
,
singing
fashion
,
that
sounded
almost
as
if
she
were
poking
fun
.
“
Do
you
mind
my
coming
in
?
”
Her
grey
,
almost
sardonic
eyes
rested
all
the
while
on
Ursula
,
as
if
summing
her
up
.
“
Oh
no
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Are
you
sure
?
”
repeated
Hermione
,
with
complete
sang-froid
,
and
an
odd
,
half-bullying
effrontery
.
“
Oh
no
,
I
like
it
awfully
,
”
laughed
Ursula
,
a
little
bit
excited
and
bewildered
,
because
Hermione
seemed
to
be
compelling
her
,
coming
very
close
to
her
,
as
if
intimate
with
her
;
and
yet
,
how
could
she
be
intimate
?
This
was
the
answer
Hermione
wanted
.
She
turned
satisfied
to
Birkin
.
“
What
are
you
doing
?
”
she
sang
,
in
her
casual
,
inquisitive
fashion
.
“
Catkins
,
”
he
replied
.
“
Really
!
”
she
said
.
“
And
what
do
you
learn
about
them
?
”
She
spoke
all
the
while
in
a
mocking
,
half
teasing
fashion
,
as
if
making
game
of
the
whole
business
.
She
picked
up
a
twig
of
the
catkin
,
piqued
by
Birkin’s
attention
to
it
.
She
was
a
strange
figure
in
the
class-room
,
wearing
a
large
,
old
cloak
of
greenish
cloth
,
on
which
was
a
raised
pattern
of
dull
gold
.
The
high
collar
,
and
the
inside
of
the
cloak
,
was
lined
with
dark
fur
.
Beneath
she
had
a
dress
of
fine
lavender-coloured
cloth
,
trimmed
with
fur
,
and
her
hat
was
close-fitting
,
made
of
fur
and
of
the
dull
,
green-and-gold
figured
stuff
.
She
was
tall
and
strange
,
she
looked
as
if
she
had
come
out
of
some
new
,
bizarre
picture
.
“
Do
you
know
the
little
red
ovary
flowers
,
that
produce
the
nuts
?
Have
you
ever
noticed
them
?
”
he
asked
her
.
And
he
came
close
and
pointed
them
out
to
her
,
on
the
sprig
she
held
.
“
No
,
”
she
replied
.
“
What
are
they
?
”
“
Those
are
the
little
seed-producing
flowers
,
and
the
long
catkins
,
they
only
produce
pollen
,
to
fertilise
them
.
”
“
Do
they
,
do
they
!
”
repeated
Hermione
,
looking
closely
.
“
From
those
little
red
bits
,
the
nuts
come
;
if
they
receive
pollen
from
the
long
danglers
.
”
“
Little
red
flames
,
little
red
flames
,
”
murmured
Hermione
to
herself
.
And
she
remained
for
some
moments
looking
only
at
the
small
buds
out
of
which
the
red
flickers
of
the
stigma
issued
.
“
Aren’t
they
beautiful
?
I
think
they’re
so
beautiful
,
”
she
said
,
moving
close
to
Birkin
,
and
pointing
to
the
red
filaments
with
her
long
,
white
finger
.
“
Had
you
never
noticed
them
before
?
”
he
asked
.
“
No
,
never
before
,
”
she
replied
.
“
And
now
you
will
always
see
them
,
”
he
said
.
“
Now
I
shall
always
see
them
,
”
she
repeated
.
“
Thank
you
so
much
for
showing
me
.
I
think
they’re
so
beautiful
—
little
red
flames
—
”
Her
absorption
was
strange
,
almost
rhapsodic
.
Both
Birkin
and
Ursula
were
suspended
.
The
little
red
pistillate
flowers
had
some
strange
,
almost
mystic-passionate
attraction
for
her
.
The
lesson
was
finished
,
the
books
were
put
away
,
at
last
the
class
was
dismissed
.
And
still
Hermione
sat
at
the
table
,
with
her
chin
in
her
hand
,
her
elbow
on
the
table
,
her
long
white
face
pushed
up
,
not
attending
to
anything
.
Birkin
had
gone
to
the
window
,
and
was
looking
from
the
brilliantly-lighted
room
on
to
the
grey
,
colourless
outside
,
where
rain
was
noiselessly
falling
.
Ursula
put
away
her
things
in
the
cupboard
.
At
length
Hermione
rose
and
came
near
to
her
.
“
Your
sister
has
come
home
?
”
she
said
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
And
does
she
like
being
back
in
Beldover
?
”
“
No
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
No
,
I
wonder
she
can
bear
it
.
It
takes
all
my
strength
,
to
bear
the
ugliness
of
this
district
,
when
I
stay
here
.
Won’t
you
come
and
see
me
?
Won’t
you
come
with
your
sister
to
stay
at
Breadalby
for
a
few
days
?
—
do
—
”
“
Thank
you
very
much
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Then
I
will
write
to
you
,
”
said
Hermione
.
“
You
think
your
sister
will
come
?
I
should
be
so
glad
.
I
think
she
is
wonderful
.
I
think
some
of
her
work
is
really
wonderful
.
I
have
two
water-wagtails
,
carved
in
wood
,
and
painted
—
perhaps
you
have
seen
it
?
”
“
No
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
I
think
it
is
perfectly
wonderful
—
like
a
flash
of
instinct
.
”
“
Her
little
carvings
are
strange
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Perfectly
beautiful
—
full
of
primitive
passion
—
”
“
Isn’t
it
queer
that
she
always
likes
little
things
?
—
she
must
always
work
small
things
,
that
one
can
put
between
one’s
hands
,
birds
and
tiny
animals
.
She
likes
to
look
through
the
wrong
end
of
the
opera
glasses
,
and
see
the
world
that
way
—
why
is
it
,
do
you
think
?
”
Hermione
looked
down
at
Ursula
with
that
long
,
detached
scrutinising
gaze
that
excited
the
younger
woman
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
Hermione
at
length
.
“
It
is
curious
.
The
little
things
seem
to
be
more
subtle
to
her
—
”
“
But
they
aren’t
,
are
they
?
A
mouse
isn’t
any
more
subtle
than
a
lion
,
is
it
?
”
Again
Hermione
looked
down
at
Ursula
with
that
long
scrutiny
,
as
if
she
were
following
some
train
of
thought
of
her
own
,
and
barely
attending
to
the
other’s
speech
.
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
she
replied
.
“
Rupert
,
Rupert
,
”
she
sang
mildly
,
calling
him
to
her
.
He
approached
in
silence
.
“
Are
little
things
more
subtle
than
big
things
?
”
she
asked
,
with
the
odd
grunt
of
laughter
in
her
voice
,
as
if
she
were
making
game
of
him
in
the
question
.
“
Dunno
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
hate
subtleties
,
”
said
Ursula
.
Hermione
looked
at
her
slowly
.
“
Do
you
?
”
she
said
.
“
I
always
think
they
are
a
sign
of
weakness
,
”
said
Ursula
,
up
in
arms
,
as
if
her
prestige
were
threatened
.
Hermione
took
no
notice
.
Suddenly
her
face
puckered
,
her
brow
was
knit
with
thought
,
she
seemed
twisted
in
troublesome
effort
for
utterance
.
“
Do
you
really
think
,
Rupert
,
”
she
asked
,
as
if
Ursula
were
not
present
,
“
do
you
really
think
it
is
worth
while
?
Do
you
really
think
the
children
are
better
for
being
roused
to
consciousness
?
”
A
dark
flash
went
over
his
face
,
a
silent
fury
.
He
was
hollow-cheeked
and
pale
,
almost
unearthly
.
And
the
woman
,
with
her
serious
,
conscience-harrowing
question
tortured
him
on
the
quick
.
“
They
are
not
roused
to
consciousness
,
”
he
said
.
“
Consciousness
comes
to
them
,
willy-nilly
.
”
“
But
do
you
think
they
are
better
for
having
it
quickened
,
stimulated
?
Isn’t
it
better
that
they
should
remain
unconscious
of
the
hazel
,
isn’t
it
better
that
they
should
see
as
a
whole
,
without
all
this
pulling
to
pieces
,
all
this
knowledge
?
”
“
Would
you
rather
,
for
yourself
,
know
or
not
know
,
that
the
little
red
flowers
are
there
,
putting
out
for
the
pollen
?
”
he
asked
harshly
.
His
voice
was
brutal
,
scornful
,
cruel
.
Hermione
remained
with
her
face
lifted
up
,
abstracted
.
He
hung
silent
in
irritation
.
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
she
replied
,
balancing
mildly
.
“
I
don’t
know
.
”
“
But
knowing
is
everything
to
you
,
it
is
all
your
life
,
”
he
broke
out
.
She
slowly
looked
at
him
.
“
Is
it
?
”
she
said
.
“
To
know
,
that
is
your
all
,
that
is
your
life
—
you
have
only
this
,
this
knowledge
,
”
he
cried
.
“
There
is
only
one
tree
,
there
is
only
one
fruit
,
in
your
mouth
.
”
Again
she
was
some
time
silent
.
“
Is
there
?
”
she
said
at
last
,
with
the
same
untouched
calm
.
And
then
in
a
tone
of
whimsical
inquisitiveness
:
“
What
fruit
,
Rupert
?
”
“
The
eternal
apple
,
”
he
replied
in
exasperation
,
hating
his
own
metaphors
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
.
There
was
a
look
of
exhaustion
about
her
.
For
some
moments
there
was
silence
.
Then
,
pulling
herself
together
with
a
convulsed
movement
,
Hermione
resumed
,
in
a
sing-song
,
casual
voice
:
“
But
leaving
me
apart
,
Rupert
;
do
you
think
the
children
are
better
,
richer
,
happier
,
for
all
this
knowledge
;
do
you
really
think
they
are
?
Or
is
it
better
to
leave
them
untouched
,
spontaneous
.
Hadn’t
they
better
be
animals
,
simple
animals
,
crude
,
violent
,
anything
,
rather
than
this
self-consciousness
,
this
incapacity
to
be
spontaneous
.
”
They
thought
she
had
finished
.
But
with
a
queer
rumbling
in
her
throat
she
resumed
,
“
Hadn’t
they
better
be
anything
than
grow
up
crippled
,
crippled
in
their
souls
,
crippled
in
their
feelings
—
so
thrown
back
—
so
turned
back
on
themselves
—
incapable
—
”
Hermione
clenched
her
fist
like
one
in
a
trance
—
“
of
any
spontaneous
action
,
always
deliberate
,
always
burdened
with
choice
,
never
carried
away
.
”
Again
they
thought
she
had
finished
.
But
just
as
he
was
going
to
reply
,
she
resumed
her
queer
rhapsody
—
“
never
carried
away
,
out
of
themselves
,
always
conscious
,
always
self-conscious
,
always
aware
of
themselves
.
Isn’t
anything
better
than
this
?
Better
be
animals
,
mere
animals
with
no
mind
at
all
,
than
this
,
this
nothingness
—
”
“
But
do
you
think
it
is
knowledge
that
makes
us
unliving
and
self-conscious
?
”
he
asked
irritably
.
She
opened
her
eyes
and
looked
at
him
slowly
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
.
She
paused
,
watching
him
all
the
while
,
her
eyes
vague
.
Then
she
wiped
her
fingers
across
her
brow
,
with
a
vague
weariness
.
It
irritated
him
bitterly
.
“
It
is
the
mind
,
”
she
said
,
“
and
that
is
death
.
”
She
raised
her
eyes
slowly
to
him
:
“
Isn’t
the
mind
—
”
she
said
,
with
the
convulsed
movement
of
her
body
,
“
isn’t
it
our
death
?
Doesn’t
it
destroy
all
our
spontaneity
,
all
our
instincts
?
Are
not
the
young
people
growing
up
today
,
really
dead
before
they
have
a
chance
to
live
?
”
“
Not
because
they
have
too
much
mind
,
but
too
little
,
”
he
said
brutally
.
“
Are
you
sure
?
”
she
cried
.
“
It
seems
to
me
the
reverse
.
They
are
over-conscious
,
burdened
to
death
with
consciousness
.
”
“
Imprisoned
within
a
limited
,
false
set
of
concepts
,
”
he
cried
.
But
she
took
no
notice
of
this
,
only
went
on
with
her
own
rhapsodic
interrogation
.
“
When
we
have
knowledge
,
don’t
we
lose
everything
but
knowledge
?
”
she
asked
pathetically
.
“
If
I
know
about
the
flower
,
don’t
I
lose
the
flower
and
have
only
the
knowledge
?
Aren’t
we
exchanging
the
substance
for
the
shadow
,
aren’t
we
forfeiting
life
for
this
dead
quality
of
knowledge
?
And
what
does
it
mean
to
me
,
after
all
?
What
does
all
this
knowing
mean
to
me
?
It
means
nothing
.
”
“
You
are
merely
making
words
,
”
he
said
;
“
knowledge
means
everything
to
you
.
Even
your
animalism
,
you
want
it
in
your
head
.
You
don’t
want
to
be
an
animal
,
you
want
to
observe
your
own
animal
functions
,
to
get
a
mental
thrill
out
of
them
.
It
is
all
purely
secondary
—
and
more
decadent
than
the
most
hide-bound
intellectualism
.
What
is
it
but
the
worst
and
last
form
of
intellectualism
,
this
love
of
yours
for
passion
and
the
animal
instincts
?
Passion
and
the
instincts
—
you
want
them
hard
enough
,
but
through
your
head
,
in
your
consciousness
.
It
all
takes
place
in
your
head
,
under
that
skull
of
yours
.
Only
you
won’t
be
conscious
of
what
actually
is
:
you
want
the
lie
that
will
match
the
rest
of
your
furniture
.
”
Hermione
set
hard
and
poisonous
against
this
attack
.
Ursula
stood
covered
with
wonder
and
shame
.
It
frightened
her
,
to
see
how
they
hated
each
other
.
“
It’s
all
that
Lady
of
Shalott
business
,
”
he
said
,
in
his
strong
abstract
voice
.
He
seemed
to
be
charging
her
before
the
unseeing
air
.
“
You’ve
got
that
mirror
,
your
own
fixed
will
,
your
immortal
understanding
,
your
own
tight
conscious
world
,
and
there
is
nothing
beyond
it
.
There
,
in
the
mirror
,
you
must
have
everything
.
But
now
you
have
come
to
all
your
conclusions
,
you
want
to
go
back
and
be
like
a
savage
,
without
knowledge
.
You
want
a
life
of
pure
sensation
and
‘passion.’
”
He
quoted
the
last
word
satirically
against
her
.
She
sat
convulsed
with
fury
and
violation
,
speechless
,
like
a
stricken
pythoness
of
the
Greek
oracle
.
“
But
your
passion
is
a
lie
,
”
he
went
on
violently
.
“
It
isn’t
passion
at
all
,
it
is
your
will
.
It’s
your
bullying
will
.
You
want
to
clutch
things
and
have
them
in
your
power
.
You
want
to
have
things
in
your
power
.
And
why
?
Because
you
haven’t
got
any
real
body
,
any
dark
sensual
body
of
life
.
You
have
no
sensuality
.
You
have
only
your
will
and
your
conceit
of
consciousness
,
and
your
lust
for
power
,
to
know
.
”
He
looked
at
her
in
mingled
hate
and
contempt
,
also
in
pain
because
she
suffered
,
and
in
shame
because
he
knew
he
tortured
her
.
He
had
an
impulse
to
kneel
and
plead
for
forgiveness
.
But
a
bitterer
red
anger
burned
up
to
fury
in
him
.
He
became
unconscious
of
her
,
he
was
only
a
passionate
voice
speaking
.
“
Spontaneous
!
”
he
cried
.
“
You
and
spontaneity
!
You
,
the
most
deliberate
thing
that
ever
walked
or
crawled
!
You’d
be
verily
deliberately
spontaneous
—
that’s
you
.
Because
you
want
to
have
everything
in
your
own
volition
,
your
deliberate
voluntary
consciousness
.
You
want
it
all
in
that
loathsome
little
skull
of
yours
,
that
ought
to
be
cracked
like
a
nut
.
For
you’ll
be
the
same
till
it
is
cracked
,
like
an
insect
in
its
skin
.
If
one
cracked
your
skull
perhaps
one
might
get
a
spontaneous
,
passionate
woman
out
of
you
,
with
real
sensuality
.
As
it
is
,
what
you
want
is
pornography
—
looking
at
yourself
in
mirrors
,
watching
your
naked
animal
actions
in
mirrors
,
so
that
you
can
have
it
all
in
your
consciousness
,
make
it
all
mental
.
”
There
was
a
sense
of
violation
in
the
air
,
as
if
too
much
was
said
,
the
unforgivable
.
Yet
Ursula
was
concerned
now
only
with
solving
her
own
problems
,
in
the
light
of
his
words
.
She
was
pale
and
abstracted
.
“
But
do
you
really
want
sensuality
?
”
she
asked
,
puzzled
.
Birkin
looked
at
her
,
and
became
intent
in
his
explanation
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
said
,
“
that
and
nothing
else
,
at
this
point
.
It
is
a
fulfilment
—
the
great
dark
knowledge
you
can’t
have
in
your
head
—
the
dark
involuntary
being
.
It
is
death
to
one’s
self
—
but
it
is
the
coming
into
being
of
another
.
”
“
But
how
?
How
can
you
have
knowledge
not
in
your
head
?
”
she
asked
,
quite
unable
to
interpret
his
phrases
.
“
In
the
blood
,
”
he
answered
;
“
when
the
mind
and
the
known
world
is
drowned
in
darkness
everything
must
go
—
there
must
be
the
deluge
.
Then
you
find
yourself
a
palpable
body
of
darkness
,
a
demon
—
”
“
But
why
should
I
be
a
demon
—
?
”
she
asked
.
“
‘
Woman
wailing
for
her
demon
lover
’
—
”
he
quoted
—
“
why
,
I
don’t
know
.
”
Hermione
roused
herself
as
from
a
death
—
annihilation
.
“
He
is
such
a
dreadful
satanist
,
isn’t
he
?
”
she
drawled
to
Ursula
,
in
a
queer
resonant
voice
,
that
ended
on
a
shrill
little
laugh
of
pure
ridicule
.
The
two
women
were
jeering
at
him
,
jeering
him
into
nothingness
.
The
laugh
of
the
shrill
,
triumphant
female
sounded
from
Hermione
,
jeering
him
as
if
he
were
a
neuter
.
“
No
,
”
he
said
.
“
You
are
the
real
devil
who
won’t
let
life
exist
.
”
She
looked
at
him
with
a
long
,
slow
look
,
malevolent
,
supercilious
.
“
You
know
all
about
it
,
don’t
you
?
”
she
said
,
with
slow
,
cold
,
cunning
mockery
.
“
Enough
,
”
he
replied
,
his
face
fixing
fine
and
clear
like
steel
.
A
horrible
despair
,
and
at
the
same
time
a
sense
of
release
,
liberation
,
came
over
Hermione
.
She
turned
with
a
pleasant
intimacy
to
Ursula
.
“
You
are
sure
you
will
come
to
Breadalby
?
”
she
said
,
urging
.
“
Yes
,
I
should
like
to
very
much
,
”
replied
Ursula
.
Hermione
looked
down
at
her
,
gratified
,
reflecting
,
and
strangely
absent
,
as
if
possessed
,
as
if
not
quite
there
.
“
I’m
so
glad
,
”
she
said
,
pulling
herself
together
.
“
Some
time
in
about
a
fortnight
.
Yes
?
I
will
write
to
you
here
,
at
the
school
,
shall
I
?
Yes
.
And
you’ll
be
sure
to
come
?
Yes
.
I
shall
be
so
glad
.
Good-bye
!
Good-bye
!
”
Hermione
held
out
her
hand
and
looked
into
the
eyes
of
the
other
woman
.
She
knew
Ursula
as
an
immediate
rival
,
and
the
knowledge
strangely
exhilarated
her
.
Also
she
was
taking
leave
.
It
always
gave
her
a
sense
of
strength
,
advantage
,
to
be
departing
and
leaving
the
other
behind
.
Moreover
she
was
taking
the
man
with
her
,
if
only
in
hate
.
Birkin
stood
aside
,
fixed
and
unreal
.
But
now
,
when
it
was
his
turn
to
bid
good-bye
,
he
began
to
speak
again
.
“
There’s
the
whole
difference
in
the
world
,
”
he
said
,
“
between
the
actual
sensual
being
,
and
the
vicious
mental-deliberate
profligacy
our
lot
goes
in
for
.
In
our
night-time
,
there’s
always
the
electricity
switched
on
,
we
watch
ourselves
,
we
get
it
all
in
the
head
,
really
.
You’ve
got
to
lapse
out
before
you
can
know
what
sensual
reality
is
,
lapse
into
unknowingness
,
and
give
up
your
volition
.
You’ve
got
to
do
it
.
You’ve
got
to
learn
not-to-be
,
before
you
can
come
into
being
.
“
But
we
have
got
such
a
conceit
of
ourselves
—
that’s
where
it
is
.
We
are
so
conceited
,
and
so
unproud
.
We’ve
got
no
pride
,
we’re
all
conceit
,
so
conceited
in
our
own
papier-maché
realised
selves
.
We’d
rather
die
than
give
up
our
little
self-righteous
self-opinionated
self-will
.
”
There
was
silence
in
the
room
.
Both
women
were
hostile
and
resentful
.
He
sounded
as
if
he
were
addressing
a
meeting
.
Hermione
merely
paid
no
attention
,
stood
with
her
shoulders
tight
in
a
shrug
of
dislike
.
Ursula
was
watching
him
as
if
furtively
,
not
really
aware
of
what
she
was
seeing
.
There
was
a
great
physical
attractiveness
in
him
—
a
curious
hidden
richness
,
that
came
through
his
thinness
and
his
pallor
like
another
voice
,
conveying
another
knowledge
of
him
.
It
was
in
the
curves
of
his
brows
and
his
chin
,
rich
,
fine
,
exquisite
curves
,
the
powerful
beauty
of
life
itself
.
She
could
not
say
what
it
was
.
But
there
was
a
sense
of
richness
and
of
liberty
.
“
But
we
are
sensual
enough
,
without
making
ourselves
so
,
aren’t
we
?
”
she
asked
,
turning
to
him
with
a
certain
golden
laughter
flickering
under
her
greenish
eyes
,
like
a
challenge
.
And
immediately
the
queer
,
careless
,
terribly
attractive
smile
came
over
his
eyes
and
brows
,
though
his
mouth
did
not
relax
.
“
No
,
”
he
said
,
“
we
aren’t
.
We’re
too
full
of
ourselves
.
”
“
Surely
it
isn’t
a
matter
of
conceit
,
”
she
cried
.
“
That
and
nothing
else
.
”
She
was
frankly
puzzled
.
“
Don’t
you
think
that
people
are
most
conceited
of
all
about
their
sensual
powers
?
”
she
asked
.
“
That’s
why
they
aren’t
sensual
—
only
sensuous
—
which
is
another
matter
.
They’re
always
aware
of
themselves
—
and
they’re
so
conceited
,
that
rather
than
release
themselves
,
and
live
in
another
world
,
from
another
centre
,
they’d
—
”
“
You
want
your
tea
,
don’t
you
,
”
said
Hermione
,
turning
to
Ursula
with
a
gracious
kindliness
.
“
You’ve
worked
all
day
—
”
Birkin
stopped
short
.
A
spasm
of
anger
and
chagrin
went
over
Ursula
.
His
face
set
.
And
he
bade
good-bye
,
as
if
he
had
ceased
to
notice
her
.
They
were
gone
.
Ursula
stood
looking
at
the
door
for
some
moments
.
Then
she
put
out
the
lights
.
And
having
done
so
,
she
sat
down
again
in
her
chair
,
absorbed
and
lost
.
And
then
she
began
to
cry
,
bitterly
,
bitterly
weeping
:
but
whether
for
misery
or
joy
,
she
never
knew
.
CHAPTER
IV
.
DIVER
The
week
passed
away
.
On
the
Saturday
it
rained
,
a
soft
drizzling
rain
that
held
off
at
times
.
In
one
of
the
intervals
Gudrun
and
Ursula
set
out
for
a
walk
,
going
towards
Willey
Water
.
The
atmosphere
was
grey
and
translucent
,
the
birds
sang
sharply
on
the
young
twigs
,
the
earth
would
be
quickening
and
hastening
in
growth
.
The
two
girls
walked
swiftly
,
gladly
,
because
of
the
soft
,
subtle
rush
of
morning
that
filled
the
wet
haze
.
By
the
road
the
black-thorn
was
in
blossom
,
white
and
wet
,
its
tiny
amber
grains
burning
faintly
in
the
white
smoke
of
blossom
.
Purple
twigs
were
darkly
luminous
in
the
grey
air
,
high
hedges
glowed
like
living
shadows
,
hovering
nearer
,
coming
into
creation
.
The
morning
was
full
of
a
new
creation
.
When
the
sisters
came
to
Willey
Water
,
the
lake
lay
all
grey
and
visionary
,
stretching
into
the
moist
,
translucent
vista
of
trees
and
meadow
.
Fine
electric
activity
in
sound
came
from
the
dumbles
below
the
road
,
the
birds
piping
one
against
the
other
,
and
water
mysteriously
plashing
,
issuing
from
the
lake
.
The
two
girls
drifted
swiftly
along
.
In
front
of
them
,
at
the
corner
of
the
lake
,
near
the
road
,
was
a
mossy
boat-house
under
a
walnut
tree
,
and
a
little
landing-stage
where
a
boat
was
moored
,
wavering
like
a
shadow
on
the
still
grey
water
,
below
the
green
,
decayed
poles
.
All
was
shadowy
with
coming
summer
.
Suddenly
,
from
the
boat-house
,
a
white
figure
ran
out
,
frightening
in
its
swift
sharp
transit
,
across
the
old
landing-stage
.
It
launched
in
a
white
arc
through
the
air
,
there
was
a
bursting
of
the
water
,
and
among
the
smooth
ripples
a
swimmer
was
making
out
to
space
,
in
a
centre
of
faintly
heaving
motion
.
The
whole
otherworld
,
wet
and
remote
,
he
had
to
himself
.
He
could
move
into
the
pure
translucency
of
the
grey
,
uncreated
water
.
Gudrun
stood
by
the
stone
wall
,
watching
.
“
How
I
envy
him
,
”
she
said
,
in
low
,
desirous
tones
.
“
Ugh
!
”
shivered
Ursula
.
“
So
cold
!
”
“
Yes
,
but
how
good
,
how
really
fine
,
to
swim
out
there
!
”
The
sisters
stood
watching
the
swimmer
move
further
into
the
grey
,
moist
,
full
space
of
the
water
,
pulsing
with
his
own
small
,
invading
motion
,
and
arched
over
with
mist
and
dim
woods
.
“
Don’t
you
wish
it
were
you
?
”
asked
Gudrun
,
looking
at
Ursula
.
“
I
do
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
But
I’m
not
sure
—
it’s
so
wet
.
”
“
No
,
”
said
Gudrun
,
reluctantly
.
She
stood
watching
the
motion
on
the
bosom
of
the
water
,
as
if
fascinated
.
He
,
having
swum
a
certain
distance
,
turned
round
and
was
swimming
on
his
back
,
looking
along
the
water
at
the
two
girls
by
the
wall
.
In
the
faint
wash
of
motion
,
they
could
see
his
ruddy
face
,
and
could
feel
him
watching
them
.
“
It
is
Gerald
Crich
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
I
know
,
”
replied
Gudrun
.
And
she
stood
motionless
gazing
over
the
water
at
the
face
which
washed
up
and
down
on
the
flood
,
as
he
swam
steadily
.
From
his
separate
element
he
saw
them
and
he
exulted
to
himself
because
of
his
own
advantage
,
his
possession
of
a
world
to
himself
.
He
was
immune
and
perfect
.
He
loved
his
own
vigorous
,
thrusting
motion
,
and
the
violent
impulse
of
the
very
cold
water
against
his
limbs
,
buoying
him
up
.
He
could
see
the
girls
watching
him
a
way
off
,
outside
,
and
that
pleased
him
.
He
lifted
his
arm
from
the
water
,
in
a
sign
to
them
.
“
He
is
waving
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Yes
,
”
replied
Gudrun
.
They
watched
him
.
He
waved
again
,
with
a
strange
movement
of
recognition
across
the
difference
.
“
Like
a
Nibelung
,
”
laughed
Ursula
.
Gudrun
said
nothing
,
only
stood
still
looking
over
the
water
.
Gerald
suddenly
turned
,
and
was
swimming
away
swiftly
,
with
a
side
stroke
.
He
was
alone
now
,
alone
and
immune
in
the
middle
of
the
waters
,
which
he
had
all
to
himself
.
He
exulted
in
his
isolation
in
the
new
element
,
unquestioned
and
unconditioned
.
He
was
happy
,
thrusting
with
his
legs
and
all
his
body
,
without
bond
or
connection
anywhere
,
just
himself
in
the
watery
world
.
Gudrun
envied
him
almost
painfully
.
Even
this
momentary
possession
of
pure
isolation
and
fluidity
seemed
to
her
so
terribly
desirable
that
she
felt
herself
as
if
damned
,
out
there
on
the
high-road
.
“
God
,
what
it
is
to
be
a
man
!
”
she
cried
.
“
What
?
”
exclaimed
Ursula
in
surprise
.
“
The
freedom
,
the
liberty
,
the
mobility
!
”
cried
Gudrun
,
strangely
flushed
and
brilliant
.
“
You’re
a
man
,
you
want
to
do
a
thing
,
you
do
it
.
You
haven’t
the
thousand
obstacles
a
woman
has
in
front
of
her
.
”
Ursula
wondered
what
was
in
Gudrun’s
mind
,
to
occasion
this
outburst
.
She
could
not
understand
.
“
What
do
you
want
to
do
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Nothing
,
”
cried
Gudrun
,
in
swift
refutation
.
“
But
supposing
I
did
.
Supposing
I
want
to
swim
up
that
water
.
It
is
impossible
,
it
is
one
of
the
impossibilities
of
life
,
for
me
to
take
my
clothes
off
now
and
jump
in
.
But
isn’t
it
ridiculous
,
doesn’t
it
simply
prevent
our
living
!
”
She
was
so
hot
,
so
flushed
,
so
furious
,
that
Ursula
was
puzzled
.
The
two
sisters
went
on
,
up
the
road
.
They
were
passing
between
the
trees
just
below
Shortlands
.
They
looked
up
at
the
long
,
low
house
,
dim
and
glamorous
in
the
wet
morning
,
its
cedar
trees
slanting
before
the
windows
.
Gudrun
seemed
to
be
studying
it
closely
.
“
Don’t
you
think
it’s
attractive
,
Ursula
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
“
Very
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Very
peaceful
and
charming
.
”
“
It
has
form
,
too
—
it
has
a
period
.
”
“
What
period
?
”
“
Oh
,
eighteenth
century
,
for
certain
;
Dorothy
Wordsworth
and
Jane
Austen
,
don’t
you
think
?
”
Ursula
laughed
.
“
Don’t
you
think
so
?
”
repeated
Gudrun
.
“
Perhaps
.
But
I
don’t
think
the
Criches
fit
the
period
.
I
know
Gerald
is
putting
in
a
private
electric
plant
,
for
lighting
the
house
,
and
is
making
all
kinds
of
latest
improvements
.
”
Gudrun
shrugged
her
shoulders
swiftly
.
“
Of
course
,
”
she
said
,
“
that’s
quite
inevitable
.
”
“
Quite
,
”
laughed
Ursula
.
“
He
is
several
generations
of
youngness
at
one
go
.
They
hate
him
for
it
.
He
takes
them
all
by
the
scruff
of
the
neck
,
and
fairly
flings
them
along
.
He’ll
have
to
die
soon
,
when
he’s
made
every
possible
improvement
,
and
there
will
be
nothing
more
to
improve
.
He’s
got
go
,
anyhow
.
”
“
Certainly
,
he’s
got
go
,
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
In
fact
I’ve
never
seen
a
man
that
showed
signs
of
so
much
.
The
unfortunate
thing
is
,
where
does
his
go
go
to
,
what
becomes
of
it
?
”
“
Oh
I
know
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
It
goes
in
applying
the
latest
appliances
!
”
“
Exactly
,
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
You
know
he
shot
his
brother
?
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Shot
his
brother
?
”
cried
Gudrun
,
frowning
as
if
in
disapprobation
.
“
Didn’t
you
know
?
Oh
yes
!
—
I
thought
you
knew
.
He
and
his
brother
were
playing
together
with
a
gun
.
He
told
his
brother
to
look
down
the
gun
,
and
it
was
loaded
,
and
blew
the
top
of
his
head
off
.
Isn’t
it
a
horrible
story
?
”
“
How
fearful
!
”
cried
Gudrun
.
“
But
it
is
long
ago
?
”
“
Oh
yes
,
they
were
quite
boys
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
I
think
it
is
one
of
the
most
horrible
stories
I
know
.
”
“
And
he
of
course
did
not
know
that
the
gun
was
loaded
?
”
“
Yes
.
You
see
it
was
an
old
thing
that
had
been
lying
in
the
stable
for
years
.
Nobody
dreamed
it
would
ever
go
off
,
and
of
course
,
no
one
imagined
it
was
loaded
.
But
isn’t
it
dreadful
,
that
it
should
happen
?
”
“
Frightful
!
”
cried
Gudrun
.
“
And
isn’t
it
horrible
too
to
think
of
such
a
thing
happening
to
one
,
when
one
was
a
child
,
and
having
to
carry
the
responsibility
of
it
all
through
one’s
life
.
Imagine
it
,
two
boys
playing
together
—
then
this
comes
upon
them
,
for
no
reason
whatever
—
out
of
the
air
.
Ursula
,
it’s
very
frightening
!
Oh
,
it’s
one
of
the
things
I
can’t
bear
.
Murder
,
that
is
thinkable
,
because
there’s
a
will
behind
it
.
But
a
thing
like
that
to
happen
to
one
—
”
“
Perhaps
there
was
an
unconscious
will
behind
it
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
This
playing
at
killing
has
some
primitive
desire
for
killing
in
it
,
don’t
you
think
?
”
“
Desire
!
”
said
Gudrun
,
coldly
,
stiffening
a
little
.
“
I
can’t
see
that
they
were
even
playing
at
killing
.
I
suppose
one
boy
said
to
the
other
,
‘You
look
down
the
barrel
while
I
pull
the
trigger
,
and
see
what
happens.’
It
seems
to
me
the
purest
form
of
accident
.
”
“
No
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
I
couldn’t
pull
the
trigger
of
the
emptiest
gun
in
the
world
,
not
if
some-one
were
looking
down
the
barrel
.
One
instinctively
doesn’t
do
it
—
one
can’t
.
”
Gudrun
was
silent
for
some
moments
,
in
sharp
disagreement
.
“
Of
course
,
”
she
said
coldly
.
“
If
one
is
a
woman
,
and
grown
up
,
one’s
instinct
prevents
one
.
But
I
cannot
see
how
that
applies
to
a
couple
of
boys
playing
together
.
”
Her
voice
was
cold
and
angry
.
“
Yes
,
”
persisted
Ursula
.
At
that
moment
they
heard
a
woman’s
voice
a
few
yards
off
say
loudly
:
“
Oh
damn
the
thing
!
”
They
went
forward
and
saw
Laura
Crich
and
Hermione
Roddice
in
the
field
on
the
other
side
of
the
hedge
,
and
Laura
Crich
struggling
with
the
gate
,
to
get
out
.
Ursula
at
once
hurried
up
and
helped
to
lift
the
gate
.
“
Thanks
so
much
,
”
said
Laura
,
looking
up
flushed
and
amazon-like
,
yet
rather
confused
.
“
It
isn’t
right
