.“
Pussum
,
”
he
said
,
“
I
wish
you
wouldn’t
do
these
things
—
Oh
!
”
He
sank
in
his
chair
with
a
groan
.
“
You’d
better
go
home
,
”
she
said
to
him
.
“
I
will
go
home
,
”
he
said
.
“
But
won’t
you
all
come
along
.
Won’t
you
come
round
to
the
flat
?
”
he
said
to
Gerald
.
“
I
should
be
so
glad
if
you
would
.
Do
—
that’ll
be
splendid
.
I
say
?
”
He
looked
round
for
a
waiter
.
“
Get
me
a
taxi
.
”
Then
he
groaned
again
.
“
Oh
I
do
feel
—
perfectly
ghastly
!
Pussum
,
you
see
what
you
do
to
me
.
”
“
Then
why
are
you
such
an
idiot
?
”
she
said
with
sullen
calm
.
“
But
I’m
not
an
idiot
!
Oh
,
how
awful
!
Do
come
,
everybody
,
it
will
be
so
splendid
.
Pussum
,
you
are
coming
.
What
?
Oh
but
you
must
come
,
yes
,
you
must
.
What
?
Oh
,
my
dear
girl
,
don’t
make
a
fuss
now
,
I
feel
perfectly
—
Oh
,
it’s
so
ghastly
—
Ho
!
—
er
!
Oh
!
”
“
You
know
you
can’t
drink
,
”
she
said
to
him
,
coldly
.
“
I
tell
you
it
isn’t
drink
—
it’s
your
disgusting
behaviour
,
Pussum
,
it’s
nothing
else
.
Oh
,
how
awful
!
Libidnikov
,
do
let
us
go
.
”
“
He’s
only
drunk
one
glass
—
only
one
glass
,
”
came
the
rapid
,
hushed
voice
of
the
young
Russian
.
They
all
moved
off
to
the
door
.
The
girl
kept
near
to
Gerald
,
and
seemed
to
be
at
one
in
her
motion
with
him
.
He
was
aware
of
this
,
and
filled
with
demon-satisfaction
that
his
motion
held
good
for
two
.
He
held
her
in
the
hollow
of
his
will
,
and
she
was
soft
,
secret
,
invisible
in
her
stirring
there
.
They
crowded
five
of
them
into
the
taxi-cab
.
Halliday
lurched
in
first
,
and
dropped
into
his
seat
against
the
other
window
.
Then
the
Pussum
took
her
place
,
and
Gerald
sat
next
to
her
.
They
heard
the
young
Russian
giving
orders
to
the
driver
,
then
they
were
all
seated
in
the
dark
,
crowded
close
together
,
Halliday
groaning
and
leaning
out
of
the
window
.
They
felt
the
swift
,
muffled
motion
of
the
car
.
The
Pussum
sat
near
to
Gerald
,
and
she
seemed
to
become
soft
,
subtly
to
infuse
herself
into
his
bones
,
as
if
she
were
passing
into
him
in
a
black
,
electric
flow
.
Her
being
suffused
into
his
veins
like
a
magnetic
darkness
,
and
concentrated
at
the
base
of
his
spine
like
a
fearful
source
of
power
.
Meanwhile
her
voice
sounded
out
reedy
and
nonchalant
,
as
she
talked
indifferently
with
Birkin
and
with
Maxim
.
Between
her
and
Gerald
was
this
silence
and
this
black
,
electric
comprehension
in
the
darkness
.
Then
she
found
his
hand
,
and
grasped
it
in
her
own
firm
,
small
clasp
.
It
was
so
utterly
dark
,
and
yet
such
a
naked
statement
,
that
rapid
vibrations
ran
through
his
blood
and
over
his
brain
,
he
was
no
longer
responsible
.
Still
her
voice
rang
on
like
a
bell
,
tinged
with
a
tone
of
mockery
.
And
as
she
swung
her
head
,
her
fine
mane
of
hair
just
swept
his
face
,
and
all
his
nerves
were
on
fire
,
as
with
a
subtle
friction
of
electricity
.
But
the
great
centre
of
his
force
held
steady
,
a
magnificent
pride
to
him
,
at
the
base
of
his
spine
.
They
arrived
at
a
large
block
of
buildings
,
went
up
in
a
lift
,
and
presently
a
door
was
being
opened
for
them
by
a
Hindu
.
Gerald
looked
in
surprise
,
wondering
if
he
were
a
gentleman
,
one
of
the
Hindus
down
from
Oxford
,
perhaps
.
But
no
,
he
was
the
man-servant
.
“
Make
tea
,
Hasan
,
”
said
Halliday
.
“
There
is
a
room
for
me
?
”
said
Birkin
.
To
both
of
which
questions
the
man
grinned
,
and
murmured
.
He
made
Gerald
uncertain
,
because
,
being
tall
and
slender
and
reticent
,
he
looked
like
a
gentleman
.
“
Who
is
your
servant
?
”
he
asked
of
Halliday
.
“
He
looks
a
swell
.
”
“
Oh
yes
—
that’s
because
he’s
dressed
in
another
man’s
clothes
.
He’s
anything
but
a
swell
,
really
.
We
found
him
in
the
road
,
starving
.
So
I
took
him
here
,
and
another
man
gave
him
clothes
.
He’s
anything
but
what
he
seems
to
be
—
his
only
advantage
is
that
he
can’t
speak
English
and
can’t
understand
it
,
so
he’s
perfectly
safe
.
”
“
He’s
very
dirty
,
”
said
the
young
Russian
swiftly
and
silently
.
Directly
,
the
man
appeared
in
the
doorway
.
“
What
is
it
?
”
said
Halliday
.
The
Hindu
grinned
,
and
murmured
shyly
:
“
Want
to
speak
to
master
.
”
Gerald
watched
curiously
.
The
fellow
in
the
doorway
was
goodlooking
and
clean-limbed
,
his
bearing
was
calm
,
he
looked
elegant
,
aristocratic
.
Yet
he
was
half
a
savage
,
grinning
foolishly
.
Halliday
went
out
into
the
corridor
to
speak
with
him
.
“
What
?
”
they
heard
his
voice
.
“
What
?
What
do
you
say
?
Tell
me
again
.
What
?
Want
money
?
Want
more
money
?
But
what
do
you
want
money
for
?
”
There
was
the
confused
sound
of
the
Hindu’s
talking
,
then
Halliday
appeared
in
the
room
,
smiling
also
foolishly
,
and
saying
:
“
He
says
he
wants
money
to
buy
underclothing
.
Can
anybody
lend
me
a
shilling
?
Oh
thanks
,
a
shilling
will
do
to
buy
all
the
underclothes
he
wants
.
”
He
took
the
money
from
Gerald
and
went
out
into
the
passage
again
,
where
they
heard
him
saying
,
“
You
can’t
want
more
money
,
you
had
three
and
six
yesterday
.
You
mustn’t
ask
for
any
more
.
Bring
the
tea
in
quickly
.
”
Gerald
looked
round
the
room
.
It
was
an
ordinary
London
sitting-room
in
a
flat
,
evidently
taken
furnished
,
rather
common
and
ugly
.
But
there
were
several
negro
statues
,
wood-carvings
from
West
Africa
,
strange
and
disturbing
,
the
carved
negroes
looked
almost
like
the
fœtus
of
a
human
being
.
One
was
a
woman
sitting
naked
in
a
strange
posture
,
and
looking
tortured
,
her
abdomen
stuck
out
.
The
young
Russian
explained
that
she
was
sitting
in
child-birth
,
clutching
the
ends
of
the
band
that
hung
from
her
neck
,
one
in
each
hand
,
so
that
she
could
bear
down
,
and
help
labour
.
The
strange
,
transfixed
,
rudimentary
face
of
the
woman
again
reminded
Gerald
of
a
fœtus
,
it
was
also
rather
wonderful
,
conveying
the
suggestion
of
the
extreme
of
physical
sensation
,
beyond
the
limits
of
mental
consciousness
.
“
Aren’t
they
rather
obscene
?
”
he
asked
,
disapproving
.
“
I
don’t
know
,
”
murmured
the
other
rapidly
.
“
I
have
never
defined
the
obscene
.
I
think
they
are
very
good
.
”
Gerald
turned
away
.
There
were
one
or
two
new
pictures
in
the
room
,
in
the
Futurist
manner
;
there
was
a
large
piano
.
And
these
,
with
some
ordinary
London
lodging-house
furniture
of
the
better
sort
,
completed
the
whole
.
The
Pussum
had
taken
off
her
hat
and
coat
,
and
was
seated
on
the
sofa
.
She
was
evidently
quite
at
home
in
the
house
,
but
uncertain
,
suspended
.
She
did
not
quite
know
her
position
.
Her
alliance
for
the
time
being
was
with
Gerald
,
and
she
did
not
know
how
far
this
was
admitted
by
any
of
the
men
.
She
was
considering
how
she
should
carry
off
the
situation
.
She
was
determined
to
have
her
experience
.
Now
,
at
this
eleventh
hour
,
she
was
not
to
be
baulked
.
Her
face
was
flushed
as
with
battle
,
her
eye
was
brooding
but
inevitable
.
The
man
came
in
with
tea
and
a
bottle
of
Kümmel
.
He
set
the
tray
on
a
little
table
before
the
couch
.
“
Pussum
,
”
said
Halliday
,
“
pour
out
the
tea
.
”
She
did
not
move
.
“
Won’t
you
do
it
?
”
Halliday
repeated
,
in
a
state
of
nervous
apprehension
.
“
I’ve
not
come
back
here
as
it
was
before
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
only
came
because
the
others
wanted
me
to
,
not
for
your
sake
.
”
“
My
dear
Pussum
,
you
know
you
are
your
own
mistress
.
I
don’t
want
you
to
do
anything
but
use
the
flat
for
your
own
convenience
—
you
know
it
,
I’ve
told
you
so
many
times
.
”
She
did
not
reply
,
but
silently
,
reservedly
reached
for
the
tea-pot
.
They
all
sat
round
and
drank
tea
.
Gerald
could
feel
the
electric
connection
between
him
and
her
so
strongly
,
as
she
sat
there
quiet
and
withheld
,
that
another
set
of
conditions
altogether
had
come
to
pass
.
Her
silence
and
her
immutability
perplexed
him
.
How
was
he
going
to
come
to
her
?
And
yet
he
felt
it
quite
inevitable
.
He
trusted
completely
to
the
current
that
held
them
.
His
perplexity
was
only
superficial
,
new
conditions
reigned
,
the
old
were
surpassed
;
here
one
did
as
one
was
possessed
to
do
,
no
matter
what
it
was
.
Birkin
rose
.
It
was
nearly
one
o’clock
.
“
I’m
going
to
bed
,
”
he
said
.
“
Gerald
,
I’ll
ring
you
up
in
the
morning
at
your
place
or
you
ring
me
up
here
.
”
“
Right
,
”
said
Gerald
,
and
Birkin
went
out
.
When
he
was
well
gone
,
Halliday
said
in
a
stimulated
voice
,
to
Gerald
:
“
I
say
,
won’t
you
stay
here
—
oh
do
!
”
“
You
can’t
put
everybody
up
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Oh
but
I
can
,
perfectly
—
there
are
three
more
beds
besides
mine
—
do
stay
,
won’t
you
.
Everything
is
quite
ready
—
there
is
always
somebody
here
—
I
always
put
people
up
—
I
love
having
the
house
crowded
.
”
“
But
there
are
only
two
rooms
,
”
said
the
Pussum
,
in
a
cold
,
hostile
voice
,
“
now
Rupert’s
here
.
”
“
I
know
there
are
only
two
rooms
,
”
said
Halliday
,
in
his
odd
,
high
way
of
speaking
.
“
But
what
does
that
matter
?
”
He
was
smiling
rather
foolishly
,
and
he
spoke
eagerly
,
with
an
insinuating
determination
.
“
Julius
and
I
will
share
one
room
,
”
said
the
Russian
in
his
discreet
,
precise
voice
.
Halliday
and
he
were
friends
since
Eton
.
“
It’s
very
simple
,
”
said
Gerald
,
rising
and
pressing
back
his
arms
,
stretching
himself
.
Then
he
went
again
to
look
at
one
of
the
pictures
.
Every
one
of
his
limbs
was
turgid
with
electric
force
,
and
his
back
was
tense
like
a
tiger’s
,
with
slumbering
fire
.
He
was
very
proud
.
The
Pussum
rose
.
She
gave
a
black
look
at
Halliday
,
black
and
deadly
,
which
brought
the
rather
foolishly
pleased
smile
to
that
young
man’s
face
.
Then
she
went
out
of
the
room
,
with
a
cold
good-night
to
them
all
generally
.
There
was
a
brief
interval
,
they
heard
a
door
close
,
then
Maxim
said
,
in
his
refined
voice
:
“
That’s
all
right
.
”
He
looked
significantly
at
Gerald
,
and
said
again
,
with
a
silent
nod
:
“
That’s
all
right
—
you’re
all
right
.
”
Gerald
looked
at
the
smooth
,
ruddy
,
comely
face
,
and
at
the
strange
,
significant
eyes
,
and
it
seemed
as
if
the
voice
of
the
young
Russian
,
so
small
and
perfect
,
sounded
in
the
blood
rather
than
in
the
air
.
“
I’m
all
right
then
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Yes
!
Yes
!
You’re
all
right
,
”
said
the
Russian
.
Halliday
continued
to
smile
,
and
to
say
nothing
.
Suddenly
the
Pussum
appeared
again
in
the
door
,
her
small
,
childish
face
looking
sullen
and
vindictive
.
“
I
know
you
want
to
catch
me
out
,
”
came
her
cold
,
rather
resonant
voice
.
“
But
I
don’t
care
,
I
don’t
care
how
much
you
catch
me
out
.
”
She
turned
and
was
gone
again
.
She
had
been
wearing
a
loose
dressing-gown
of
purple
silk
,
tied
round
her
waist
.
She
looked
so
small
and
childish
and
vulnerable
,
almost
pitiful
.
And
yet
the
black
looks
of
her
eyes
made
Gerald
feel
drowned
in
some
potent
darkness
that
almost
frightened
him
.
The
men
lit
another
cigarette
and
talked
casually
.
CHAPTER
VII
.
FETISH
In
the
morning
Gerald
woke
late
.
He
had
slept
heavily
.
Pussum
was
still
asleep
,
sleeping
childishly
and
pathetically
.
There
was
something
small
and
curled
up
and
defenceless
about
her
,
that
roused
an
unsatisfied
flame
of
passion
in
the
young
man’s
blood
,
a
devouring
avid
pity
.
He
looked
at
her
again
.
But
it
would
be
too
cruel
to
wake
her
.
He
subdued
himself
,
and
went
away
.
Hearing
voices
coming
from
the
sitting-room
,
Halliday
talking
to
Libidnikov
,
he
went
to
the
door
and
glanced
in
.
He
had
on
a
silk
wrap
of
a
beautiful
bluish
colour
,
with
an
amethyst
hem
.
To
his
surprise
he
saw
the
two
young
men
by
the
fire
,
stark
naked
.
Halliday
looked
up
,
rather
pleased
.
“
Good-morning
,
”
he
said
.
“
Oh
—
did
you
want
towels
?
”
And
stark
naked
he
went
out
into
the
hall
,
striding
a
strange
,
white
figure
between
the
unliving
furniture
.
He
came
back
with
the
towels
,
and
took
his
former
position
,
crouching
seated
before
the
fire
on
the
fender
.
“
Don’t
you
love
to
feel
the
fire
on
your
skin
?
”
he
said
.
“
It
is
rather
pleasant
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
How
perfectly
splendid
it
must
be
to
be
in
a
climate
where
one
could
do
without
clothing
altogether
,
”
said
Halliday
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
Gerald
,
“
if
there
weren’t
so
many
things
that
sting
and
bite
.
”
“
That’s
a
disadvantage
,
”
murmured
Maxim
.
Gerald
looked
at
him
,
and
with
a
slight
revulsion
saw
the
human
animal
,
golden
skinned
and
bare
,
somehow
humiliating
.
Halliday
was
different
.
He
had
a
rather
heavy
,
slack
,
broken
beauty
,
white
and
firm
.
He
was
like
a
Christ
in
a
Pietà
.
The
animal
was
not
there
at
all
,
only
the
heavy
,
broken
beauty
.
And
Gerald
realised
how
Halliday’s
eyes
were
beautiful
too
,
so
blue
and
warm
and
confused
,
broken
also
in
their
expression
.
The
fireglow
fell
on
his
heavy
,
rather
bowed
shoulders
,
he
sat
slackly
crouched
on
the
fender
,
his
face
was
uplifted
,
weak
,
perhaps
slightly
disintegrate
,
and
yet
with
a
moving
beauty
of
its
own
.
“
Of
course
,
”
said
Maxim
,
“
you’ve
been
in
hot
countries
where
the
people
go
about
naked
.
”
“
Oh
really
!
”
exclaimed
Halliday
.
“
Where
?
”
“
South
America
—
Amazon
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
Oh
but
how
perfectly
splendid
!
It’s
one
of
the
things
I
want
most
to
do
—
to
live
from
day
to
day
without
ever
putting
on
any
sort
of
clothing
whatever
.
If
I
could
do
that
,
I
should
feel
I
had
lived
.
”
“
But
why
?
”
said
Gerald
.
“
I
can’t
see
that
it
makes
so
much
difference
.
”
“
Oh
,
I
think
it
would
be
perfectly
splendid
.
I’m
sure
life
would
be
entirely
another
thing
—
entirely
different
,
and
perfectly
wonderful
.
”
“
But
why
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
Why
should
it
?
”
“
Oh
—
one
would
feel
things
instead
of
merely
looking
at
them
.
I
should
feel
the
air
move
against
me
,
and
feel
the
things
I
touched
,
instead
of
having
only
to
look
at
them
.
I’m
sure
life
is
all
wrong
because
it
has
become
much
too
visual
—
we
can
neither
hear
nor
feel
nor
understand
,
we
can
only
see
.
I’m
sure
that
is
entirely
wrong
.
”
“
Yes
,
that
is
true
,
that
is
true
,
”
said
the
Russian
.
Gerald
glanced
at
him
,
and
saw
him
,
his
suave
,
golden
coloured
body
with
the
black
hair
growing
fine
and
freely
,
like
tendrils
,
and
his
limbs
like
smooth
plant-stems
.
He
was
so
healthy
and
well-made
,
why
did
he
make
one
ashamed
,
why
did
one
feel
repelled
?
Why
should
Gerald
even
dislike
it
,
why
did
it
seem
to
him
to
detract
from
his
own
dignity
.
Was
that
all
a
human
being
amounted
to
?
So
uninspired
!
thought
Gerald
.
Birkin
suddenly
appeared
in
the
doorway
,
in
white
pyjamas
and
wet
hair
,
and
a
towel
over
his
arm
.
He
was
aloof
and
white
,
and
somehow
evanescent
.
“
There’s
the
bath-room
now
,
if
you
want
it
,
”
he
said
generally
,
and
was
going
away
again
,
when
Gerald
called
:
“
I
say
,
Rupert
!
”
“
What
?
”
The
single
white
figure
appeared
again
,
a
presence
in
the
room
.
“
What
do
you
think
of
that
figure
there
?
I
want
to
know
,
”
Gerald
asked
.
Birkin
,
white
and
strangely
ghostly
,
went
over
to
the
carved
figure
of
the
negro
woman
in
labour
.
Her
nude
,
protuberant
body
crouched
in
a
strange
,
clutching
posture
,
her
hands
gripping
the
ends
of
the
band
,
above
her
breast
.
“
It
is
art
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Very
beautiful
,
it’s
very
beautiful
,
”
said
the
Russian
.
They
all
drew
near
to
look
.
Gerald
looked
at
the
group
of
men
,
the
Russian
golden
and
like
a
water-plant
,
Halliday
tall
and
heavily
,
brokenly
beautiful
,
Birkin
very
white
and
indefinite
,
not
to
be
assigned
,
as
he
looked
closely
at
the
carven
woman
.
Strangely
elated
,
Gerald
also
lifted
his
eyes
to
the
face
of
the
wooden
figure
.
And
his
heart
contracted
.
He
saw
vividly
with
his
spirit
the
grey
,
forward-stretching
face
of
the
negro
woman
,
African
and
tense
,
abstracted
in
utter
physical
stress
.
It
was
a
terrible
face
,
void
,
peaked
,
abstracted
almost
into
meaninglessness
by
the
weight
of
sensation
beneath
.
He
saw
the
Pussum
in
it
.
As
in
a
dream
,
he
knew
her
.
“
Why
is
it
art
?
”
Gerald
asked
,
shocked
,
resentful
.
“
It
conveys
a
complete
truth
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
It
contains
the
whole
truth
of
that
state
,
whatever
you
feel
about
it
.
”
“
But
you
can’t
call
it
high
art
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
High
!
There
are
centuries
and
hundreds
of
centuries
of
development
in
a
straight
line
,
behind
that
carving
;
it
is
an
awful
pitch
of
culture
,
of
a
definite
sort
.
”
“
What
culture
?
”
Gerald
asked
,
in
opposition
.
He
hated
the
sheer
African
thing
.
“
Pure
culture
in
sensation
,
culture
in
the
physical
consciousness
,
really
ultimate
physical
consciousness
,
mindless
,
utterly
sensual
.
It
is
so
sensual
as
to
be
final
,
supreme
.
”
But
Gerald
resented
it
.
He
wanted
to
keep
certain
illusions
,
certain
ideas
like
clothing
.
“
You
like
the
wrong
things
,
Rupert
,
”
he
said
,
“
things
against
yourself
.
”
“
Oh
,
I
know
,
this
isn’t
everything
,
”
Birkin
replied
,
moving
away
.
When
Gerald
went
back
to
his
room
from
the
bath
,
he
also
carried
his
clothes
.
He
was
so
conventional
at
home
,
that
when
he
was
really
away
,
and
on
the
loose
,
as
now
,
he
enjoyed
nothing
so
much
as
full
outrageousness
.
So
he
strode
with
his
blue
silk
wrap
over
his
arm
and
felt
defiant
.
The
Pussum
lay
in
her
bed
,
motionless
,
her
round
,
dark
eyes
like
black
,
unhappy
pools
.
He
could
only
see
the
black
,
bottomless
pools
of
her
eyes
.
Perhaps
she
suffered
.
The
sensation
of
her
inchoate
suffering
roused
the
old
sharp
flame
in
him
,
a
mordant
pity
,
a
passion
almost
of
cruelty
.
“
You
are
awake
now
,
”
he
said
to
her
.
“
What
time
is
it
?
”
came
her
muted
voice
.
She
seemed
to
flow
back
,
almost
like
liquid
,
from
his
approach
,
to
sink
helplessly
away
from
him
.
Her
inchoate
look
of
a
violated
slave
,
whose
fulfilment
lies
in
her
further
and
further
violation
,
made
his
nerves
quiver
with
acutely
desirable
sensation
.
After
all
,
his
was
the
only
will
,
she
was
the
passive
substance
of
his
will
.
He
tingled
with
the
subtle
,
biting
sensation
.
And
then
he
knew
,
he
must
go
away
from
her
,
there
must
be
pure
separation
between
them
.
It
was
a
quiet
and
ordinary
breakfast
,
the
four
men
all
looking
very
clean
and
bathed
.
Gerald
and
the
Russian
were
both
correct
and
comme
il
faut
in
appearance
and
manner
,
Birkin
was
gaunt
and
sick
,
and
looked
a
failure
in
his
attempt
to
be
a
properly
dressed
man
,
like
Gerald
and
Maxim
.
Halliday
wore
tweeds
and
a
green
flannel
shirt
,
and
a
rag
of
a
tie
,
which
was
just
right
for
him
.
The
Hindu
brought
in
a
great
deal
of
soft
toast
,
and
looked
exactly
the
same
as
he
had
looked
the
night
before
,
statically
the
same
.
At
the
end
of
the
breakfast
the
Pussum
appeared
,
in
a
purple
silk
wrap
with
a
shimmering
sash
.
She
had
recovered
herself
somewhat
,
but
was
mute
and
lifeless
still
.
It
was
a
torment
to
her
when
anybody
spoke
to
her
.
Her
face
was
like
a
small
,
fine
mask
,
sinister
too
,
masked
with
unwilling
suffering
.
It
was
almost
midday
.
Gerald
rose
and
went
away
to
his
business
,
glad
to
get
out
.
But
he
had
not
finished
.
He
was
coming
back
again
at
evening
,
they
were
all
dining
together
,
and
he
had
booked
seats
for
the
party
,
excepting
Birkin
,
at
a
music-hall
.
At
night
they
came
back
to
the
flat
very
late
again
,
again
flushed
with
drink
.
Again
the
man-servant
—
who
invariably
disappeared
between
the
hours
of
ten
and
twelve
at
night
—
came
in
silently
and
inscrutably
with
tea
,
bending
in
a
slow
,
strange
,
leopard-like
fashion
to
put
the
tray
softly
on
the
table
.
His
face
was
immutable
,
aristocratic-looking
,
tinged
slightly
with
grey
under
the
skin
;
he
was
young
and
good-looking
.
But
Birkin
felt
a
slight
sickness
,
looking
at
him
,
and
feeling
the
slight
greyness
as
an
ash
or
a
corruption
,
in
the
aristocratic
inscrutability
of
expression
a
nauseating
,
bestial
stupidity
.
Again
they
talked
cordially
and
rousedly
together
.
But
already
a
certain
friability
was
coming
over
the
party
,
Birkin
was
mad
with
irritation
,
Halliday
was
turning
in
an
insane
hatred
against
Gerald
,
the
Pussum
was
becoming
hard
and
cold
,
like
a
flint
knife
,
and
Halliday
was
laying
himself
out
to
her
.
And
her
intention
,
ultimately
,
was
to
capture
Halliday
,
to
have
complete
power
over
him
.
In
the
morning
they
all
stalked
and
lounged
about
again
.
But
Gerald
could
feel
a
strange
hostility
to
himself
,
in
the
air
.
It
roused
his
obstinacy
,
and
he
stood
up
against
it
.
He
hung
on
for
two
more
days
.
The
result
was
a
nasty
and
insane
scene
with
Halliday
on
the
fourth
evening
.
Halliday
turned
with
absurd
animosity
upon
Gerald
,
in
the
café
.
There
was
a
row
.
Gerald
was
on
the
point
of
knocking-in
Halliday’s
face
;
when
he
was
filled
with
sudden
disgust
and
indifference
,
and
he
went
away
,
leaving
Halliday
in
a
foolish
state
of
gloating
triumph
,
the
Pussum
hard
and
established
,
and
Maxim
standing
clear
.
Birkin
was
absent
,
he
had
gone
out
of
town
again
.
Gerald
was
piqued
because
he
had
left
without
giving
the
Pussum
money
.
It
was
true
,
she
did
not
care
whether
he
gave
her
money
or
not
,
and
he
knew
it
.
But
she
would
have
been
glad
of
ten
pounds
,
and
he
would
have
been
very
glad
to
give
them
to
her
.
Now
he
felt
in
a
false
position
.
He
went
away
chewing
his
lips
to
get
at
the
ends
of
his
short
clipped
moustache
.
He
knew
the
Pussum
was
merely
glad
to
be
rid
of
him
.
She
had
got
her
Halliday
whom
she
wanted
.
She
wanted
him
completely
in
her
power
.
Then
she
would
marry
him
.
She
wanted
to
marry
him
.
She
had
set
her
will
on
marrying
Halliday
.
She
never
wanted
to
hear
of
Gerald
again
;
unless
,
perhaps
,
she
were
in
difficulty
;
because
after
all
,
Gerald
was
what
she
called
a
man
,
and
these
others
,
Halliday
,
Libidnikov
,
Birkin
,
the
whole
Bohemian
set
,
they
were
only
half
men
.
But
it
was
half
men
she
could
deal
with
.
She
felt
sure
of
herself
with
them
.
The
real
men
,
like
Gerald
,
put
her
in
her
place
too
much
.
Still
,
she
respected
Gerald
,
she
really
respected
him
.
She
had
managed
to
get
his
address
,
so
that
she
could
appeal
to
him
in
time
of
distress
.
She
knew
he
wanted
to
give
her
money
.
She
would
perhaps
write
to
him
on
that
inevitable
rainy
day
.
CHAPTER
VIII
.
BREADALBY
Breadalby
was
a
Georgian
house
with
Corinthian
pillars
,
standing
among
the
softer
,
greener
hills
of
Derbyshire
,
not
far
from
Cromford
.
In
front
,
it
looked
over
a
lawn
,
over
a
few
trees
,
down
to
a
string
of
fish-ponds
in
the
hollow
of
the
silent
park
.
At
the
back
were
trees
,
among
which
were
to
be
found
the
stables
,
and
the
big
kitchen
garden
,
behind
which
was
a
wood
.
It
was
a
very
quiet
place
,
some
miles
from
the
high-road
,
back
from
the
Derwent
Valley
,
outside
the
show
scenery
.
Silent
and
forsaken
,
the
golden
stucco
showed
between
the
trees
,
the
house-front
looked
down
the
park
,
unchanged
and
unchanging
.
Of
late
,
however
,
Hermione
had
lived
a
good
deal
at
the
house
.
She
had
turned
away
from
London
,
away
from
Oxford
,
towards
the
silence
of
the
country
.
Her
father
was
mostly
absent
,
abroad
,
she
was
either
alone
in
the
house
,
with
her
visitors
,
of
whom
there
were
always
several
,
or
she
had
with
her
her
brother
,
a
bachelor
,
and
a
Liberal
member
of
Parliament
.
He
always
came
down
when
the
House
was
not
sitting
,
seemed
always
to
be
present
in
Breadalby
,
although
he
was
most
conscientious
in
his
attendance
to
duty
.
The
summer
was
just
coming
in
when
Ursula
and
Gudrun
went
to
stay
the
second
time
with
Hermione
.
Coming
along
in
the
car
,
after
they
had
entered
the
park
,
they
looked
across
the
dip
,
where
the
fish-ponds
lay
in
silence
,
at
the
pillared
front
of
the
house
,
sunny
and
small
like
an
English
drawing
of
the
old
school
,
on
the
brow
of
the
green
hill
,
against
the
trees
.
There
were
small
figures
on
the
green
lawn
,
women
in
lavender
and
yellow
moving
to
the
shade
of
the
enormous
,
beautifully
balanced
cedar
tree
.
“
Isn’t
it
complete
!
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
It
is
as
final
as
an
old
aquatint
.
”
She
spoke
with
some
resentment
in
her
voice
,
as
if
she
were
captivated
unwillingly
,
as
if
she
must
admire
against
her
will
.
“
Do
you
love
it
?
”
asked
Ursula
.
“
I
don’t
love
it
,
but
in
its
way
,
I
think
it
is
quite
complete
.
”
The
motor-car
ran
down
the
hill
and
up
again
in
one
breath
,
and
they
were
curving
to
the
side
door
.
A
parlour-maid
appeared
,
and
then
Hermione
,
coming
forward
with
her
pale
face
lifted
,
and
her
hands
outstretched
,
advancing
straight
to
the
newcomers
,
her
voice
singing
:
“
Here
you
are
—
I’m
so
glad
to
see
you
—
”
she
kissed
Gudrun
—
“
so
glad
to
see
you
—
”
she
kissed
Ursula
and
remained
with
her
arm
round
her
.
“
Are
you
very
tired
?
”
“
Not
at
all
tired
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
Are
you
tired
,
Gudrun
?
”
“
Not
at
all
,
thanks
,
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
No
—
”
drawled
Hermione
.
And
she
stood
and
looked
at
them
.
The
two
girls
were
embarrassed
because
she
would
not
move
into
the
house
,
but
must
have
her
little
scene
of
welcome
there
on
the
path
.
The
servants
waited
.
“
Come
in
,
”
said
Hermione
at
last
,
having
fully
taken
in
the
pair
of
them
.
Gudrun
was
the
more
beautiful
and
attractive
,
she
had
decided
again
,
Ursula
was
more
physical
,
more
womanly
.
She
admired
Gudrun’s
dress
more
.
It
was
of
green
poplin
,
with
a
loose
coat
above
it
,
of
broad
,
dark-green
and
dark-brown
stripes
.
The
hat
was
of
a
pale
,
greenish
straw
,
the
colour
of
new
hay
,
and
it
had
a
plaited
ribbon
of
black
and
orange
,
the
stockings
were
dark
green
,
the
shoes
black
.
It
was
a
good
get-up
,
at
once
fashionable
and
individual
.
Ursula
,
in
dark
blue
,
was
more
ordinary
,
though
she
also
looked
well
.
Hermione
herself
wore
a
dress
of
prune-coloured
silk
,
with
coral
beads
and
coral
coloured
stockings
.
But
her
dress
was
both
shabby
and
soiled
,
even
rather
dirty
.
“
You
would
like
to
see
your
rooms
now
,
wouldn’t
you
!
Yes
.
We
will
go
up
now
,
shall
we
?
”
Ursula
was
glad
when
she
could
be
left
alone
in
her
room
.
Hermione
lingered
so
long
,
made
such
a
stress
on
one
.
She
stood
so
near
to
one
,
pressing
herself
near
upon
one
,
in
a
way
that
was
most
embarrassing
and
oppressive
.
She
seemed
to
hinder
one’s
workings
.
Lunch
was
served
on
the
lawn
,
under
the
great
tree
,
whose
thick
,
blackish
boughs
came
down
close
to
the
grass
.
There
were
present
a
young
Italian
woman
,
slight
and
fashionable
,
a
young
,
athletic-looking
Miss
Bradley
,
a
learned
,
dry
Baronet
of
fifty
,
who
was
always
making
witticisms
and
laughing
at
them
heartily
in
a
harsh
,
horse-laugh
,
there
was
Rupert
Birkin
,
and
then
a
woman
secretary
,
a
Fräulein
März
,
young
and
slim
and
pretty
.
The
food
was
very
good
,
that
was
one
thing
.
Gudrun
,
critical
of
everything
,
gave
it
her
full
approval
.
Ursula
loved
the
situation
,
the
white
table
by
the
cedar
tree
,
the
scent
of
new
sunshine
,
the
little
vision
of
the
leafy
park
,
with
far-off
deer
feeding
peacefully
.
There
seemed
a
magic
circle
drawn
about
the
place
,
shutting
out
the
present
,
enclosing
the
delightful
,
precious
past
,
trees
and
deer
and
silence
,
like
a
dream
.
But
in
spirit
she
was
unhappy
.
The
talk
went
on
like
a
rattle
of
small
artillery
,
always
slightly
sententious
,
with
a
sententiousness
that
was
only
emphasised
by
the
continual
crackling
of
a
witticism
,
the
continual
spatter
of
verbal
jest
,
designed
to
give
a
tone
of
flippancy
to
a
stream
of
conversation
that
was
all
critical
and
general
,
a
canal
of
conversation
rather
than
a
stream
.
The
attitude
was
mental
and
very
wearying
.
Only
the
elderly
sociologist
,
whose
mental
fibre
was
so
tough
as
to
be
insentient
,
seemed
to
be
thoroughly
happy
.
Birkin
was
down
in
the
mouth
.
Hermione
appeared
,
with
amazing
persistence
,
to
wish
to
ridicule
him
and
make
him
look
ignominious
in
the
eyes
of
everybody
.
And
it
was
surprising
how
she
seemed
to
succeed
,
how
helpless
he
seemed
against
her
.
He
looked
completely
insignificant
.
Ursula
and
Gudrun
,
both
very
unused
,
were
mostly
silent
,
listening
to
the
slow
,
rhapsodic
sing-song
of
Hermione
,
or
the
verbal
sallies
of
Sir
Joshua
,
or
the
prattle
of
Fräulein
,
or
the
responses
of
the
other
two
women
.
Luncheon
was
over
,
coffee
was
brought
out
on
the
grass
,
the
party
left
the
table
and
sat
about
in
lounge
chairs
,
in
the
shade
or
in
the
sunshine
as
they
wished
.
Fräulein
departed
into
the
house
,
Hermione
took
up
her
embroidery
,
the
little
Contessa
took
a
book
,
Miss
Bradley
was
weaving
a
basket
out
of
fine
grass
,
and
there
they
all
were
on
the
lawn
in
the
early
summer
afternoon
,
working
leisurely
and
spattering
with
half-intellectual
,
deliberate
talk
.
Suddenly
there
was
the
sound
of
the
brakes
and
the
shutting
off
of
a
motor-car
.
“
There’s
Salsie
!
”
sang
Hermione
,
in
her
slow
,
amusing
sing-song
.
And
laying
down
her
work
,
she
rose
slowly
,
and
slowly
passed
over
the
lawn
,
round
the
bushes
,
out
of
sight
.
“
Who
is
it
?
”
asked
Gudrun
.
“
Mr
Roddice
—
Miss
Roddice’s
brother
—
at
least
,
I
suppose
it’s
he
,
”
said
Sir
Joshua
.
“
Salsie
,
yes
,
it
is
her
brother
,
”
said
the
little
Contessa
,
lifting
her
head
for
a
moment
from
her
book
,
and
speaking
as
if
to
give
information
,
in
her
slightly
deepened
,
guttural
English
.
They
all
waited
.
And
then
round
the
bushes
came
the
tall
form
of
Alexander
Roddice
,
striding
romantically
like
a
Meredith
hero
who
remembers
Disraeli
.
He
was
cordial
with
everybody
,
he
was
at
once
a
host
,
with
an
easy
,
offhand
hospitality
that
he
had
learned
for
Hermione’s
friends
.
He
had
just
come
down
from
London
,
from
the
House
.
At
once
the
atmosphere
of
the
House
of
Commons
made
itself
felt
over
the
lawn
:
the
Home
Secretary
had
said
such
and
such
a
thing
,
and
he
,
Roddice
,
on
the
other
hand
,
thought
such
and
such
a
thing
,
and
had
said
so-and-so
to
the
PM
.
Now
Hermione
came
round
the
bushes
with
Gerald
Crich
.
He
had
come
along
with
Alexander
.
Gerald
was
presented
to
everybody
,
was
kept
by
Hermione
for
a
few
moments
in
full
view
,
then
he
was
led
away
,
still
by
Hermione
.
He
was
evidently
her
guest
of
the
moment
.
There
had
been
a
split
in
the
Cabinet
;
the
minister
for
Education
had
resigned
owing
to
adverse
criticism
.
This
started
a
conversation
on
education
.
“
Of
course
,
”
said
Hermione
,
lifting
her
face
like
a
rhapsodist
,
“
there
can
be
no
reason
,
no
excuse
for
education
,
except
the
joy
and
beauty
of
knowledge
in
itself
.
”
She
seemed
to
rumble
and
ruminate
with
subterranean
thoughts
for
a
minute
,
then
she
proceeded
:
“
Vocational
education
isn’t
education
,
it
is
the
close
of
education
.
”
Gerald
,
on
the
brink
of
discussion
,
sniffed
the
air
with
delight
and
prepared
for
action
.
“
Not
necessarily
,
”
he
said
.
“
But
isn’t
education
really
like
gymnastics
,
isn’t
the
end
of
education
the
production
of
a
well-trained
,
vigorous
,
energetic
mind
?
”
“
Just
as
athletics
produce
a
healthy
body
,
ready
for
anything
,
”
cried
Miss
Bradley
,
in
hearty
accord
.
Gudrun
looked
at
her
in
silent
loathing
.
“
Well
—
”
rumbled
Hermione
,
“
I
don’t
know
.
To
me
the
pleasure
of
knowing
is
so
great
,
so
wonderful
—
nothing
has
meant
so
much
to
me
in
all
life
,
as
certain
knowledge
—
no
,
I
am
sure
—
nothing
.
”
“
What
knowledge
,
for
example
,
Hermione
?
”
asked
Alexander
.
Hermione
lifted
her
face
and
rumbled
—
“
M
—
m
—
m
—
I
don’t
know
.
.
.
But
one
thing
was
the
stars
,
when
I
really
understood
something
about
the
stars
.
One
feels
so
uplifted
,
so
unbounded
.
.
.
”
Birkin
looked
at
her
in
a
white
fury
.
“
What
do
you
want
to
feel
unbounded
for
?
”
he
said
sarcastically
.
“
You
don’t
want
to
be
unbounded
.
”
Hermione
recoiled
in
offence
.
“
Yes
,
but
one
does
have
that
limitless
feeling
,
”
said
Gerald
.
“
It’s
like
getting
on
top
of
the
mountain
and
seeing
the
Pacific
.
”
“
Silent
upon
a
peak
in
Dariayn
,
”
murmured
the
Italian
,
lifting
her
face
for
a
moment
from
her
book
.
“
Not
necessarily
in
Dariayn
,
”
said
Gerald
,
while
Ursula
began
to
laugh
.
Hermione
waited
for
the
dust
to
settle
,
and
then
she
said
,
untouched
:
“
Yes
,
it
is
the
greatest
thing
in
life
—
to
know
.
It
is
really
to
be
happy
,
to
be
free
.
”
“
Knowledge
is
,
of
course
,
liberty
,
”
said
Mattheson
.
“
In
compressed
tabloids
,
”
said
Birkin
,
looking
at
the
dry
,
stiff
little
body
of
the
Baronet
.
Immediately
Gudrun
saw
the
famous
sociologist
as
a
flat
bottle
,
containing
tabloids
of
compressed
liberty
.
That
pleased
her
.
Sir
Joshua
was
labelled
and
placed
forever
in
her
mind
.
“
What
does
that
mean
,
Rupert
?
”
sang
Hermione
,
in
a
calm
snub
.
“
You
can
only
have
knowledge
,
strictly
,
”
he
replied
,
“
of
things
concluded
,
in
the
past
.
It’s
like
bottling
the
liberty
of
last
summer
in
the
bottled
gooseberries
.
”
“
Can
one
have
knowledge
only
of
the
past
?
”
asked
the
Baronet
,
pointedly
.
“
Could
we
call
our
knowledge
of
the
laws
of
gravitation
for
instance
,
knowledge
of
the
past
?
”
“
Yes
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
There
is
a
most
beautiful
thing
in
my
book
,
”
suddenly
piped
the
little
Italian
woman
.
“
It
says
the
man
came
to
the
door
and
threw
his
eyes
down
the
street
.
”
There
was
a
general
laugh
in
the
company
.
Miss
Bradley
went
and
looked
over
the
shoulder
of
the
Contessa
.
“
See
!
”
said
the
Contessa
.
“
Bazarov
came
to
the
door
and
threw
his
eyes
hurriedly
down
the
street
,
”
she
read
.
Again
there
was
a
loud
laugh
,
the
most
startling
of
which
was
the
Baronet’s
,
which
rattled
out
like
a
clatter
of
falling
stones
.
“
What
is
the
book
?
”
asked
Alexander
,
promptly
.
“
Fathers
and
Sons
,
by
Turgenev
,
”
said
the
little
foreigner
,
pronouncing
every
syllable
distinctly
.
She
looked
at
the
cover
,
to
verify
herself
.
“
An
old
American
edition
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
Ha
!
—
of
course
—
translated
from
the
French
,
”
said
Alexander
,
with
a
fine
declamatory
voice
.
“
Bazarov
ouvra
la
porte
et
jeta
les
yeux
dans
la
rue
.
”
He
looked
brightly
round
the
company
.
“
I
wonder
what
the
‘hurriedly’
was
,
”
said
Ursula
.
They
all
began
to
guess
.
And
then
,
to
the
amazement
of
everybody
,
the
maid
came
hurrying
with
a
large
tea-tray
.
The
afternoon
had
passed
so
swiftly
.
After
tea
,
they
were
all
gathered
for
a
walk
.
“
Would
you
like
to
come
for
a
walk
?
”
said
Hermione
to
each
of
them
,
one
by
one
.
And
they
all
said
yes
,
feeling
somehow
like
prisoners
marshalled
for
exercise
.
Birkin
only
refused
.
“
Will
you
come
for
a
walk
,
Rupert
?
”
“
No
,
Hermione
.
”
“
But
are
you
sure
?
”
“
Quite
sure
.
”
There
was
a
second’s
hesitation
.
“
And
why
not
?
”
sang
Hermione’s
question
.
It
made
her
blood
run
sharp
,
to
be
thwarted
in
even
so
trifling
a
matter
.
She
intended
them
all
to
walk
with
her
in
the
park
.
“
Because
I
don’t
like
trooping
off
in
a
gang
,
”
he
said
.
Her
voice
rumbled
in
her
throat
for
a
moment
.
Then
she
said
,
with
a
curious
stray
calm
:
“
Then
we’ll
leave
a
little
boy
behind
,
if
he’s
sulky
.
”
And
she
looked
really
gay
,
while
she
insulted
him
.
But
it
merely
made
him
stiff
.
She
trailed
off
to
the
rest
of
the
company
,
only
turning
to
wave
her
handkerchief
to
him
,
and
to
chuckle
with
laughter
,
singing
out
:
“
Good-bye
,
good-bye
,
little
boy
.
”
“
Good-bye
,
impudent
hag
,
”
he
said
to
himself
.
They
all
went
through
the
park
.
Hermione
wanted
to
show
them
the
wild
daffodils
on
a
little
slope
.
“
This
way
,
this
way
,
”
sang
her
leisurely
voice
at
intervals
.
And
they
had
all
to
come
this
way
.
The
daffodils
were
pretty
,
but
who
could
see
them
?
Ursula
was
stiff
all
over
with
resentment
by
this
time
,
resentment
of
the
whole
atmosphere
.
Gudrun
,
mocking
and
objective
,
watched
and
registered
everything
.
They
looked
at
the
shy
deer
,
and
Hermione
talked
to
the
stag
,
as
if
he
too
were
a
boy
she
wanted
to
wheedle
and
fondle
.
He
was
male
,
so
she
must
exert
some
kind
of
power
over
him
.
They
trailed
home
by
the
fish-ponds
,
and
Hermione
told
them
about
the
quarrel
of
two
male
swans
,
who
had
striven
for
the
love
of
the
one
lady
.
She
chuckled
and
laughed
as
she
told
how
the
ousted
lover
had
sat
with
his
head
buried
under
his
wing
,
on
the
gravel
.
When
they
arrived
back
at
the
house
,
Hermione
stood
on
the
lawn
and
sang
out
,
in
a
strange
,
small
,
high
voice
that
carried
very
far
:
“
Rupert
!
Rupert
!
”
The
first
syllable
was
high
and
slow
,
the
second
dropped
down
.
“
Roo-o-opert
.
”
But
there
was
no
answer
.
A
maid
appeared
.
“
Where
is
Mr
Birkin
,
Alice
?
”
asked
the
mild
straying
voice
of
Hermione
.
But
under
the
straying
voice
,
what
a
persistent
,
almost
insane
will
!
“
I
think
he’s
in
his
room
,
madam
.
”
“
Is
he
?
”
Hermione
went
slowly
up
the
stairs
,
along
the
corridor
,
singing
out
in
her
high
,
small
call
:
“
Ru-oo-pert
!
Ru-oo
pert
!
”
She
came
to
his
door
,
and
tapped
,
still
crying
:
“
Roo-pert
.
”
“
Yes
,
”
sounded
his
voice
at
last
.
“
What
are
you
doing
?
”
The
question
was
mild
and
curious
.
There
was
no
answer
.
Then
he
opened
the
door
.
“
We’ve
come
back
,
”
said
Hermione
.
“
The
daffodils
are
so
beautiful
.
”
“
Yes
,
”
he
said
,
“
I’ve
seen
them
.
”
She
looked
at
him
with
her
long
,
slow
,
impassive
look
,
along
her
cheeks
.
“
Have
you
?
”
she
echoed
.
And
she
remained
looking
at
him
.
She
was
stimulated
above
all
things
by
this
conflict
with
him
,
when
he
was
like
a
sulky
boy
,
helpless
,
and
she
had
him
safe
at
Breadalby
.
But
underneath
she
knew
the
split
was
coming
,
and
her
hatred
of
him
was
subconscious
and
intense
.
“
What
were
you
doing
?
”
she
reiterated
,
in
her
mild
,
indifferent
tone
.
He
did
not
answer
,
and
she
made
her
way
,
almost
unconsciously
into
his
room
.
He
had
taken
a
Chinese
drawing
of
geese
from
the
boudoir
,
and
was
copying
it
,
with
much
skill
and
vividness
.
“
You
are
copying
the
drawing
,
”
she
said
,
standing
near
the
table
,
and
looking
down
at
his
work
.
“
Yes
.
How
beautifully
you
do
it
!
You
like
it
very
much
,
don’t
you
?
”
“
It’s
a
marvellous
drawing
,
”
he
said
.
“
Is
it
?
I’m
so
glad
you
like
it
,
because
I’ve
always
been
fond
of
it
.
The
Chinese
Ambassador
gave
it
me
.
”
“
I
know
,
”
he
said
.
“
But
why
do
you
copy
it
?
”
she
asked
,
casual
and
sing-song
.
“
Why
not
do
something
original
?
”
“
I
want
to
know
it
,
”
he
replied
.
“
One
gets
more
of
China
,
copying
this
picture
,
than
reading
all
the
books
.
”
“
And
what
do
you
get
?
”
She
was
at
once
roused
,
she
laid
as
it
were
violent
hands
on
him
,
to
extract
his
secrets
from
him
.
She
must
know
.
It
was
a
dreadful
tyranny
,
an
obsession
in
her
,
to
know
all
he
knew
.
For
some
time
he
was
silent
,
hating
to
answer
her
.
Then
,
compelled
,
he
began
:
“
I
know
what
centres
they
live
from
—
what
they
perceive
and
feel
—
the
hot
,
stinging
centrality
of
a
goose
in
the
flux
of
cold
water
and
mud
—
the
curious
bitter
stinging
heat
of
a
goose’s
blood
,
entering
their
own
blood
like
an
inoculation
of
corruptive
fire
—
fire
of
the
cold-burning
mud
—
the
lotus
mystery
.
”
Hermione
looked
at
him
along
her
narrow
,
pallid
cheeks
.
Her
eyes
were
strange
and
drugged
,
heavy
under
their
heavy
,
drooping
lids
.
Her
thin
bosom
shrugged
convulsively
.
He
stared
back
at
her
,
devilish
and
unchanging
.
With
another
strange
,
sick
convulsion
,
she
turned
away
,
as
if
she
were
sick
,
could
feel
dissolution
setting-in
in
her
body
.
For
with
her
mind
she
was
unable
to
attend
to
his
words
,
he
caught
her
,
as
it
were
,
beneath
all
her
defences
,
and
destroyed
her
with
some
insidious
occult
potency
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
,
as
if
she
did
not
know
what
she
were
saying
.
“
Yes
,
”
and
she
swallowed
,
and
tried
to
regain
her
mind
.
But
she
could
not
,
she
was
witless
,
decentralised
.
Use
all
her
will
as
she
might
,
she
could
not
recover
.
She
suffered
the
ghastliness
of
dissolution
,
broken
and
gone
in
a
horrible
corruption
.
And
he
stood
and
looked
at
her
unmoved
.
She
strayed
out
,
pallid
and
preyed-upon
like
a
ghost
,
like
one
attacked
by
the
tomb-influences
which
dog
us
.
And
she
was
gone
like
a
corpse
,
that
has
no
presence
,
no
connection
.
He
remained
hard
and
vindictive
.
Hermione
came
down
to
dinner
strange
and
sepulchral
,
her
eyes
heavy
and
full
of
sepulchral
darkness
,
strength
.
She
had
put
on
a
dress
of
stiff
old
greenish
brocade
,
that
fitted
tight
and
made
her
look
tall
and
rather
terrible
,
ghastly
.
In
the
gay
light
of
the
drawing-room
she
was
uncanny
and
oppressive
.
But
seated
in
the
half-light
of
the
dining-room
,
sitting
stiffly
before
the
shaded
candles
on
the
table
,
she
seemed
a
power
,
a
presence
.
She
listened
and
attended
with
a
drugged
attention
.
The
party
was
gay
and
extravagant
in
appearance
,
everybody
had
put
on
evening
dress
except
Birkin
and
Joshua
Mattheson
.
The
little
Italian
Contessa
wore
a
dress
of
tissue
,
of
orange
and
gold
and
black
velvet
in
soft
wide
stripes
,
Gudrun
was
emerald
green
with
strange
net-work
,
Ursula
was
in
yellow
with
dull
silver
veiling
,
Miss
Bradley
was
of
grey
,
crimson
and
jet
,
Fräulein
März
wore
pale
blue
.
It
gave
Hermione
a
sudden
convulsive
sensation
of
pleasure
,
to
see
these
rich
colours
under
the
candle-light
.
She
was
aware
of
the
talk
going
on
,
ceaselessly
,
Joshua’s
voice
dominating
;
of
the
ceaseless
pitter-patter
of
women’s
light
laughter
and
responses
;
of
the
brilliant
colours
and
the
white
table
and
the
shadow
above
and
below
;
and
she
seemed
in
a
swoon
of
gratification
,
convulsed
with
pleasure
and
yet
sick
,
like
a
revenant
.
She
took
very
little
part
in
the
conversation
,
yet
she
heard
it
all
,
it
was
all
hers
.
They
all
went
together
into
the
drawing-room
,
as
if
they
were
one
family
,
easily
,
without
any
attention
to
ceremony
.
Fräulein
handed
the
coffee
,
everybody
smoked
cigarettes
,
or
else
long
warden
pipes
of
white
clay
,
of
which
a
sheaf
was
provided
.
“
Will
you
smoke
?
—
cigarettes
or
pipe
?
”
asked
Fräulein
prettily
.
There
was
a
circle
of
people
,
Sir
Joshua
with
his
eighteenth-century
appearance
,
Gerald
the
amused
,
handsome
young
Englishman
,
Alexander
tall
and
the
handsome
politician
,
democratic
and
lucid
,
Hermione
strange
like
a
long
Cassandra
,
and
the
women
lurid
with
colour
,
all
dutifully
smoking
their
long
white
pipes
,
and
sitting
in
a
half-moon
in
the
comfortable
,
soft-lighted
drawing-room
,
round
the
logs
that
flickered
on
the
marble
hearth
.
The
talk
was
very
often
political
or
sociological
,
and
interesting
,
curiously
anarchistic
.
There
was
an
accumulation
of
powerful
force
in
the
room
,
powerful
and
destructive
.
Everything
seemed
to
be
thrown
into
the
melting
pot
,
and
it
seemed
to
Ursula
they
were
all
witches
,
helping
the
pot
to
bubble
.
There
was
an
elation
and
a
satisfaction
in
it
all
,
but
it
was
cruelly
exhausting
for
the
newcomers
,
this
ruthless
mental
pressure
,
this
powerful
,
consuming
,
destructive
mentality
that
emanated
from
Joshua
and
Hermione
and
Birkin
and
dominated
the
rest
.
But
a
sickness
,
a
fearful
nausea
gathered
possession
of
Hermione
.
There
was
a
lull
in
the
talk
,
as
it
was
arrested
by
her
unconscious
but
all-powerful
will
.
“
Salsie
,
won’t
you
play
something
?
”
said
Hermione
,
breaking
off
completely
.
“
Won’t
somebody
dance
?
Gudrun
,
you
will
dance
,
won’t
you
?
I
wish
you
would
.
Anche
tu
,
Palestra
,
ballerai
?
—
sì
,
per
piacere
.
You
too
,
Ursula
.
”
Hermione
rose
and
slowly
pulled
the
gold-embroidered
band
that
hung
by
the
mantel
,
clinging
to
it
for
a
moment
,
then
releasing
it
suddenly
.
Like
a
priestess
she
looked
,
unconscious
,
sunk
in
a
heavy
half-trance
.
A
servant
came
,
and
soon
reappeared
with
armfuls
of
silk
robes
and
shawls
and
scarves
,
mostly
oriental
,
things
that
Hermione
,
with
her
love
for
beautiful
extravagant
dress
,
had
collected
gradually
.
“
The
three
women
will
dance
together
,
”
she
said
.
“
What
shall
it
be
?
”
asked
Alexander
,
rising
briskly
.
“
Vergini
Delle
Rocchette
,
”
said
the
Contessa
at
once
.
“
They
are
so
languid
,
”
said
Ursula
.
“
The
three
witches
from
Macbeth
,
”
suggested
Fräulein
usefully
.
It
was
finally
decided
to
do
Naomi
and
Ruth
and
Orpah
.
Ursula
was
Naomi
,
Gudrun
was
Ruth
,
the
Contessa
was
Orpah
.
The
idea
was
to
make
a
little
ballet
,
in
the
style
of
the
Russian
Ballet
of
Pavlova
and
Nijinsky
.
The
Contessa
was
ready
first
,
Alexander
went
to
the
piano
,
a
space
was
cleared
.
Orpah
,
in
beautiful
oriental
clothes
,
began
slowly
to
dance
the
death
of
her
husband
.
Then
Ruth
came
,
and
they
wept
together
,
and
lamented
,
then
Naomi
came
to
comfort
them
.
It
was
all
done
in
dumb
show
,
the
women
danced
their
emotion
in
gesture
and
motion
.
The
little
drama
went
on
for
a
quarter
of
an
hour
.
Ursula
was
beautiful
as
Naomi
.
All
her
men
were
dead
,
it
remained
to
her
only
to
stand
alone
in
indomitable
assertion
,
demanding
nothing
.
Ruth
,
woman-loving
,
loved
her
.
Orpah
,
a
vivid
,
sensational
,
subtle
widow
,
would
go
back
to
the
former
life
,
a
repetition
.
The
interplay
between
the
women
was
real
and
rather
frightening
.
It
was
strange
to
see
how
Gudrun
clung
with
heavy
,
desperate
passion
to
Ursula
,
yet
smiled
with
subtle
malevolence
against
her
,
how
Ursula
accepted
silently
,
unable
to
provide
any
more
either
for
herself
or
for
the
other
,
but
dangerous
and
indomitable
,
refuting
her
grief
.
Hermione
loved
to
watch
.
She
could
see
the
Contessa’s
rapid
,
stoat-like
sensationalism
,
Gudrun’s
ultimate
but
treacherous
cleaving
to
the
woman
in
her
sister
,
Ursula’s
dangerous
helplessness
,
as
if
she
were
helplessly
weighted
,
and
unreleased
.
“
That
was
very
beautiful
,
”
everybody
cried
with
one
accord
.
But
Hermione
writhed
in
her
soul
,
knowing
what
she
could
not
know
.
She
cried
out
for
more
dancing
,
and
it
was
her
will
that
set
the
Contessa
and
Birkin
moving
mockingly
in
Malbrouk
.
Gerald
was
excited
by
the
desperate
cleaving
of
Gudrun
to
Naomi
.
The
essence
of
that
female
,
subterranean
recklessness
and
mockery
penetrated
his
blood
.
He
could
not
forget
Gudrun’s
lifted
,
offered
,
cleaving
,
reckless
,
yet
withal
mocking
weight
.
And
Birkin
,
watching
like
a
hermit
crab
from
its
hole
,
had
seen
the
brilliant
frustration
and
helplessness
of
Ursula
.
She
was
rich
,
full
of
dangerous
power
.
She
was
like
a
strange
unconscious
bud
of
powerful
womanhood
.
He
was
unconsciously
drawn
to
her
.
She
was
his
future
.
Alexander
played
some
Hungarian
music
,
and
they
all
danced
,
seized
by
the
spirit
.
Gerald
was
marvellously
exhilarated
at
finding
himself
in
motion
,
moving
towards
Gudrun
,
dancing
with
feet
that
could
not
yet
escape
from
the
waltz
and
the
two-step
,
but
feeling
his
force
stir
along
his
limbs
and
his
body
,
out
of
captivity
.
He
did
not
know
yet
how
to
dance
their
convulsive
,
rag-time
sort
of
dancing
,
but
he
knew
how
to
begin
.
Birkin
,
when
he
could
get
free
from
the
weight
of
the
people
present
,
whom
he
disliked
,
danced
rapidly
and
with
a
real
gaiety
.
And
how
Hermione
hated
him
for
this
irresponsible
gaiety
.
“
Now
I
see
,
”
cried
the
Contessa
excitedly
,
watching
his
purely
gay
motion
,
which
he
had
all
to
himself
.
“
Mr
Birkin
,
he
is
a
changer
.
”
Hermione
looked
at
her
slowly
,
and
shuddered
,
knowing
that
only
a
foreigner
could
have
seen
and
have
said
this
.
“
Cosa
vuol’dire
,
Palestra
?
”
she
asked
,
sing-song
.
“
Look
,
”
said
the
Contessa
,
in
Italian
.
“
He
is
not
a
man
,
he
is
a
chameleon
,
a
creature
of
change
.
”
“
He
is
not
a
man
,
he
is
treacherous
,
not
one
of
us
,
”
said
itself
over
in
Hermione’s
consciousness
.
And
her
soul
writhed
in
the
black
subjugation
to
him
,
because
of
his
power
to
escape
,
to
exist
,
other
than
she
did
,
because
he
was
not
consistent
,
not
a
man
,
less
than
a
man
.
She
hated
him
in
a
despair
that
shattered
her
and
broke
her
down
,
so
that
she
suffered
sheer
dissolution
like
a
corpse
,
and
was
unconscious
of
everything
save
the
horrible
sickness
of
dissolution
that
was
taking
place
within
her
,
body
and
soul
.
The
house
being
full
,
Gerald
was
given
the
smaller
room
,
really
the
dressing-room
,
communicating
with
Birkin’s
bedroom
.
When
they
all
took
their
candles
and
mounted
the
stairs
,
where
the
lamps
were
burning
subduedly
,
Hermione
captured
Ursula
and
brought
her
into
her
own
bedroom
,
to
talk
to
her
.
A
sort
of
constraint
came
over
Ursula
in
the
big
,
strange
bedroom
.
Hermione
seemed
to
be
bearing
down
on
her
,
awful
and
inchoate
,
making
some
appeal
.
They
were
looking
at
some
Indian
silk
shirts
,
gorgeous
and
sensual
in
themselves
,
their
shape
,
their
almost
corrupt
gorgeousness
.
And
Hermione
came
near
,
and
her
bosom
writhed
,
and
Ursula
was
for
a
moment
blank
with
panic
.
And
for
a
moment
Hermione’s
haggard
eyes
saw
the
fear
on
the
face
of
the
other
,
there
was
again
a
sort
of
crash
,
a
crashing
down
.
And
Ursula
picked
up
a
shirt
of
rich
red
and
blue
silk
,
made
for
a
young
princess
of
fourteen
,
and
was
