?”
she
asked
.
“
Sort
of
petunia
,
I
suppose
,
”
he
answered
.
“
I
don’t
really
know
them
.
”
“
They
are
quite
strangers
to
me
,
”
she
said
.
They
stood
together
in
a
false
intimacy
,
a
nervous
contact
.
And
he
was
in
love
with
her
.
She
was
aware
of
Mademoiselle
standing
near
,
like
a
little
French
beetle
,
observant
and
calculating
.
She
moved
away
with
Winifred
,
saying
they
would
go
to
find
Bismarck
.
Gerald
watched
them
go
,
looking
all
the
while
at
the
soft
,
full
,
still
body
of
Gudrun
,
in
its
silky
cashmere
.
How
silky
and
rich
and
soft
her
body
must
be
.
An
excess
of
appreciation
came
over
his
mind
,
she
was
the
all-desirable
,
the
all-beautiful
.
He
wanted
only
to
come
to
her
,
nothing
more
.
He
was
only
this
,
this
being
that
should
come
to
her
,
and
be
given
to
her
.
At
the
same
time
he
was
finely
and
acutely
aware
of
Mademoiselle’s
neat
,
brittle
finality
of
form
.
She
was
like
some
elegant
beetle
with
thin
ankles
,
perched
on
her
high
heels
,
her
glossy
black
dress
perfectly
correct
,
her
dark
hair
done
high
and
admirably
.
How
repulsive
her
completeness
and
her
finality
was
!
He
loathed
her
.
Yet
he
did
admire
her
.
She
was
perfectly
correct
.
And
it
did
rather
annoy
him
,
that
Gudrun
came
dressed
in
startling
colours
,
like
a
macaw
,
when
the
family
was
in
mourning
.
Like
a
macaw
she
was
!
He
watched
the
lingering
way
she
took
her
feet
from
the
ground
.
And
her
ankles
were
pale
yellow
,
and
her
dress
a
deep
blue
.
Yet
it
pleased
him
.
It
pleased
him
very
much
.
He
felt
the
challenge
in
her
very
attire
—
she
challenged
the
whole
world
.
And
he
smiled
as
to
the
note
of
a
trumpet
.
Gudrun
and
Winifred
went
through
the
house
to
the
back
,
where
were
the
stables
and
the
out-buildings
.
Everywhere
was
still
and
deserted
.
Mr
Crich
had
gone
out
for
a
short
drive
,
the
stableman
had
just
led
round
Gerald’s
horse
.
The
two
girls
went
to
the
hutch
that
stood
in
a
corner
,
and
looked
at
the
great
black-and-white
rabbit
.
“
Isn’t
he
beautiful
!
Oh
,
do
look
at
him
listening
!
Doesn’t
he
look
silly
!
”
she
laughed
quickly
,
then
added
“
Oh
,
do
let’s
do
him
listening
,
do
let
us
,
he
listens
with
so
much
of
himself
;
—
don’t
you
darling
Bismarck
?
”
“
Can
we
take
him
out
?
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
He’s
very
strong
.
He
really
is
extremely
strong
.
”
She
looked
at
Gudrun
,
her
head
on
one
side
,
in
odd
calculating
mistrust
.
“
But
we’ll
try
,
shall
we
?
”
“
Yes
,
if
you
like
.
But
he’s
a
fearful
kicker
!
”
They
took
the
key
to
unlock
the
door
.
The
rabbit
exploded
in
a
wild
rush
round
the
hutch
.
“
He
scratches
most
awfully
sometimes
,
”
cried
Winifred
in
excitement
.
“
Oh
do
look
at
him
,
isn’t
he
wonderful
!
”
The
rabbit
tore
round
the
hutch
in
a
hurry
.
“
Bismarck
!
”
cried
the
child
,
in
rousing
excitement
.
“
How
dreadful
you
are
!
You
are
beastly
.
”
Winifred
looked
up
at
Gudrun
with
some
misgiving
in
her
wild
excitement
.
Gudrun
smiled
sardonically
with
her
mouth
.
Winifred
made
a
strange
crooning
noise
of
unaccountable
excitement
.
“
Now
he’s
still
!
”
she
cried
,
seeing
the
rabbit
settled
down
in
a
far
corner
of
the
hutch
.
“
Shall
we
take
him
now
?
”
she
whispered
excitedly
,
mysteriously
,
looking
up
at
Gudrun
and
edging
very
close
.
“
Shall
we
get
him
now
?
—
”
she
chuckled
wickedly
to
herself
.
They
unlocked
the
door
of
the
hutch
.
Gudrun
thrust
in
her
arm
and
seized
the
great
,
lusty
rabbit
as
it
crouched
still
,
she
grasped
its
long
ears
.
It
set
its
four
feet
flat
,
and
thrust
back
.
There
was
a
long
scraping
sound
as
it
was
hauled
forward
,
and
in
another
instant
it
was
in
mid-air
,
lunging
wildly
,
its
body
flying
like
a
spring
coiled
and
released
,
as
it
lashed
out
,
suspended
from
the
ears
.
Gudrun
held
the
black-and-white
tempest
at
arms’
length
,
averting
her
face
.
But
the
rabbit
was
magically
strong
,
it
was
all
she
could
do
to
keep
her
grasp
.
She
almost
lost
her
presence
of
mind
.
“
Bismarck
,
Bismarck
,
you
are
behaving
terribly
,
”
said
Winifred
in
a
rather
frightened
voice
,
“
Oh
,
do
put
him
down
,
he’s
beastly
.
”
Gudrun
stood
for
a
moment
astounded
by
the
thunder-storm
that
had
sprung
into
being
in
her
grip
.
Then
her
colour
came
up
,
a
heavy
rage
came
over
her
like
a
cloud
.
She
stood
shaken
as
a
house
in
a
storm
,
and
utterly
overcome
.
Her
heart
was
arrested
with
fury
at
the
mindlessness
and
the
bestial
stupidity
of
this
struggle
,
her
wrists
were
badly
scored
by
the
claws
of
the
beast
,
a
heavy
cruelty
welled
up
in
her
.
Gerald
came
round
as
she
was
trying
to
capture
the
flying
rabbit
under
her
arm
.
He
saw
,
with
subtle
recognition
,
her
sullen
passion
of
cruelty
.
“
You
should
let
one
of
the
men
do
that
for
you
,
”
he
said
hurrying
up
.
“
Oh
,
he’s
so
horrid
!
”
cried
Winifred
,
almost
frantic
.
He
held
out
his
nervous
,
sinewy
hand
and
took
the
rabbit
by
the
ears
,
from
Gudrun
.
“
It’s
most
fearfully
strong
,
”
she
cried
,
in
a
high
voice
,
like
the
crying
a
seagull
,
strange
and
vindictive
.
The
rabbit
made
itself
into
a
ball
in
the
air
,
and
lashed
out
,
flinging
itself
into
a
bow
.
It
really
seemed
demoniacal
.
Gudrun
saw
Gerald’s
body
tighten
,
saw
a
sharp
blindness
come
into
his
eyes
.
“
I
know
these
beggars
of
old
,
”
he
said
.
The
long
,
demon-like
beast
lashed
out
again
,
spread
on
the
air
as
if
it
were
flying
,
looking
something
like
a
dragon
,
then
closing
up
again
,
inconceivably
powerful
and
explosive
.
The
man’s
body
,
strung
to
its
efforts
,
vibrated
strongly
.
Then
a
sudden
sharp
,
white-edged
wrath
came
up
in
him
.
Swift
as
lightning
he
drew
back
and
brought
his
free
hand
down
like
a
hawk
on
the
neck
of
the
rabbit
.
Simultaneously
,
there
came
the
unearthly
abhorrent
scream
of
a
rabbit
in
the
fear
of
death
.
It
made
one
immense
writhe
,
tore
his
wrists
and
his
sleeves
in
a
final
convulsion
,
all
its
belly
flashed
white
in
a
whirlwind
of
paws
,
and
then
he
had
slung
it
round
and
had
it
under
his
arm
,
fast
.
It
cowered
and
skulked
.
His
face
was
gleaming
with
a
smile
.
“
You
wouldn’t
think
there
was
all
that
force
in
a
rabbit
,
”
he
said
,
looking
at
Gudrun
.
And
he
saw
her
eyes
black
as
night
in
her
pallid
face
,
she
looked
almost
unearthly
.
The
scream
of
the
rabbit
,
after
the
violent
tussle
,
seemed
to
have
torn
the
veil
of
her
consciousness
.
He
looked
at
her
,
and
the
whitish
,
electric
gleam
in
his
face
intensified
.
“
I
don’t
really
like
him
,
”
Winifred
was
crooning
.
“
I
don’t
care
for
him
as
I
do
for
Loozie
.
He’s
hateful
really
.
”
A
smile
twisted
Gudrun’s
face
,
as
she
recovered
.
She
knew
she
was
revealed
.
“
Don’t
they
make
the
most
fearful
noise
when
they
scream
?
”
she
cried
,
the
high
note
in
her
voice
,
like
a
seagull’s
cry
.
“
Abominable
,
”
he
said
.
“
He
shouldn’t
be
so
silly
when
he
has
to
be
taken
out
,
”
Winifred
was
saying
,
putting
out
her
hand
and
touching
the
rabbit
tentatively
,
as
it
skulked
under
his
arm
,
motionless
as
if
it
were
dead
.
“
He’s
not
dead
,
is
he
Gerald
?
”
she
asked
.
“
No
,
he
ought
to
be
,
”
he
said
.
“
Yes
,
he
ought
!
”
cried
the
child
,
with
a
sudden
flush
of
amusement
.
And
she
touched
the
rabbit
with
more
confidence
.
“
His
heart
is
beating
so
fast
.
Isn’t
he
funny
?
He
really
is
.
”
“
Where
do
you
want
him
?
”
asked
Gerald
.
“
In
the
little
green
court
,
”
she
said
.
Gudrun
looked
at
Gerald
with
strange
,
darkened
eyes
,
strained
with
underworld
knowledge
,
almost
supplicating
,
like
those
of
a
creature
which
is
at
his
mercy
,
yet
which
is
his
ultimate
victor
.
He
did
not
know
what
to
say
to
her
.
He
felt
the
mutual
hellish
recognition
.
And
he
felt
he
ought
to
say
something
,
to
cover
it
.
He
had
the
power
of
lightning
in
his
nerves
,
she
seemed
like
a
soft
recipient
of
his
magical
,
hideous
white
fire
.
He
was
unconfident
,
he
had
qualms
of
fear
.
“
Did
he
hurt
you
?
”
he
asked
.
“
No
,
”
she
said
.
“
He’s
an
insensible
beast
,
”
he
said
,
turning
his
face
away
.
They
came
to
the
little
court
,
which
was
shut
in
by
old
red
walls
in
whose
crevices
wall-flowers
were
growing
.
The
grass
was
soft
and
fine
and
old
,
a
level
floor
carpeting
the
court
,
the
sky
was
blue
overhead
.
Gerald
tossed
the
rabbit
down
.
It
crouched
still
and
would
not
move
.
Gudrun
watched
it
with
faint
horror
.
“
Why
doesn’t
it
move
?
”
she
cried
.
“
It’s
skulking
,
”
he
said
.
She
looked
up
at
him
,
and
a
slight
sinister
smile
contracted
her
white
face
.
“
Isn’t
it
a
fool
!
”
she
cried
.
“
Isn’t
it
a
sickening
fool
?
”
The
vindictive
mockery
in
her
voice
made
his
brain
quiver
.
Glancing
up
at
him
,
into
his
eyes
,
she
revealed
again
the
mocking
,
white-cruel
recognition
.
There
was
a
league
between
them
,
abhorrent
to
them
both
.
They
were
implicated
with
each
other
in
abhorrent
mysteries
.
“
How
many
scratches
have
you
?
”
he
asked
,
showing
his
hard
forearm
,
white
and
hard
and
torn
in
red
gashes
.
“
How
really
vile
!
”
she
cried
,
flushing
with
a
sinister
vision
.
“
Mine
is
nothing
.
”
She
lifted
her
arm
and
showed
a
deep
red
score
down
the
silken
white
flesh
.
“
What
a
devil
!
”
he
exclaimed
.
But
it
was
as
if
he
had
had
knowledge
of
her
in
the
long
red
rent
of
her
forearm
,
so
silken
and
soft
.
He
did
not
want
to
touch
her
.
He
would
have
to
make
himself
touch
her
,
deliberately
.
The
long
,
shallow
red
rip
seemed
torn
across
his
own
brain
,
tearing
the
surface
of
his
ultimate
consciousness
,
letting
through
the
forever
unconscious
,
unthinkable
red
ether
of
the
beyond
,
the
obscene
beyond
.
“
It
doesn’t
hurt
you
very
much
,
does
it
?
”
he
asked
,
solicitous
.
“
Not
at
all
,
”
she
cried
.
And
suddenly
the
rabbit
,
which
had
been
crouching
as
if
it
were
a
flower
,
so
still
and
soft
,
suddenly
burst
into
life
.
Round
and
round
the
court
it
went
,
as
if
shot
from
a
gun
,
round
and
round
like
a
furry
meteorite
,
in
a
tense
hard
circle
that
seemed
to
bind
their
brains
.
They
all
stood
in
amazement
,
smiling
uncannily
,
as
if
the
rabbit
were
obeying
some
unknown
incantation
.
Round
and
round
it
flew
,
on
the
grass
under
the
old
red
walls
like
a
storm
.
And
then
quite
suddenly
it
settled
down
,
hobbled
among
the
grass
,
and
sat
considering
,
its
nose
twitching
like
a
bit
of
fluff
in
the
wind
.
After
having
considered
for
a
few
minutes
,
a
soft
bunch
with
a
black
,
open
eye
,
which
perhaps
was
looking
at
them
,
perhaps
was
not
,
it
hobbled
calmly
forward
and
began
to
nibble
the
grass
with
that
mean
motion
of
a
rabbit’s
quick
eating
.
“
It’s
mad
,
”
said
Gudrun
.
“
It
is
most
decidedly
mad
.
”
He
laughed
.
“
The
question
is
,
”
he
said
,
“
what
is
madness
?
I
don’t
suppose
it
is
rabbit-mad
.
”
“
Don’t
you
think
it
is
?
”
she
asked
.
“
No.
That’s
what
it
is
to
be
a
rabbit
.
”
There
was
a
queer
,
faint
,
obscene
smile
over
his
face
.
She
looked
at
him
and
saw
him
,
and
knew
that
he
was
initiate
as
she
was
initiate
.
This
thwarted
her
,
and
contravened
her
,
for
the
moment
.
“
God
be
praised
we
aren’t
rabbits
,
”
she
said
,
in
a
high
,
shrill
voice
.
The
smile
intensified
a
little
,
on
his
face
.
“
Not
rabbits
?
”
he
said
,
looking
at
her
fixedly
.
Slowly
her
face
relaxed
into
a
smile
of
obscene
recognition
.
“
Ah
Gerald
,
”
she
said
,
in
a
strong
,
slow
,
almost
man-like
way
.
“
—
All
that
,
and
more
.
”
Her
eyes
looked
up
at
him
with
shocking
nonchalance
.
He
felt
again
as
if
she
had
torn
him
across
the
breast
,
dully
,
finally
.
He
turned
aside
.
“
Eat
,
eat
my
darling
!
”
Winifred
was
softly
conjuring
the
rabbit
,
and
creeping
forward
to
touch
it
.
It
hobbled
away
from
her
.
“
Let
its
mother
stroke
its
fur
then
,
darling
,
because
it
is
so
mysterious
—
”
CHAPTER
XIX
.
MOONY
After
his
illness
Birkin
went
to
the
south
of
France
for
a
time
.
He
did
not
write
,
nobody
heard
anything
of
him
.
Ursula
,
left
alone
,
felt
as
if
everything
were
lapsing
out
.
There
seemed
to
be
no
hope
in
the
world
.
One
was
a
tiny
little
rock
with
the
tide
of
nothingness
rising
higher
and
higher
She
herself
was
real
,
and
only
herself
—
just
like
a
rock
in
a
wash
of
flood-water
.
The
rest
was
all
nothingness
.
She
was
hard
and
indifferent
,
isolated
in
herself
.
There
was
nothing
for
it
now
,
but
contemptuous
,
resistant
indifference
.
All
the
world
was
lapsing
into
a
grey
wish-wash
of
nothingness
,
she
had
no
contact
and
no
connection
anywhere
.
She
despised
and
detested
the
whole
show
.
From
the
bottom
of
her
heart
,
from
the
bottom
of
her
soul
,
she
despised
and
detested
people
,
adult
people
.
She
loved
only
children
and
animals
:
children
she
loved
passionately
,
but
coldly
.
They
made
her
want
to
hug
them
,
to
protect
them
,
to
give
them
life
.
But
this
very
love
,
based
on
pity
and
despair
,
was
only
a
bondage
and
a
pain
to
her
.
She
loved
best
of
all
the
animals
,
that
were
single
and
unsocial
as
she
herself
was
.
She
loved
the
horses
and
cows
in
the
field
.
Each
was
single
and
to
itself
,
magical
.
It
was
not
referred
away
to
some
detestable
social
principle
.
It
was
incapable
of
soulfulness
and
tragedy
,
which
she
detested
so
profoundly
.
She
could
be
very
pleasant
and
flattering
,
almost
subservient
,
to
people
she
met
.
But
no
one
was
taken
in
.
Instinctively
each
felt
her
contemptuous
mockery
of
the
human
being
in
himself
,
or
herself
.
She
had
a
profound
grudge
against
the
human
being
.
That
which
the
word
“
human
”
stood
for
was
despicable
and
repugnant
to
her
.
Mostly
her
heart
was
closed
in
this
hidden
,
unconscious
strain
of
contemptuous
ridicule
.
She
thought
she
loved
,
she
thought
she
was
full
of
love
.
This
was
her
idea
of
herself
.
But
the
strange
brightness
of
her
presence
,
a
marvellous
radiance
of
intrinsic
vitality
,
was
a
luminousness
of
supreme
repudiation
,
nothing
but
repudiation
.
Yet
,
at
moments
,
she
yielded
and
softened
,
she
wanted
pure
love
,
only
pure
love
.
This
other
,
this
state
of
constant
unfailing
repudiation
,
was
a
strain
,
a
suffering
also
.
A
terrible
desire
for
pure
love
overcame
her
again
.
She
went
out
one
evening
,
numbed
by
this
constant
essential
suffering
.
Those
who
are
timed
for
destruction
must
die
now
.
The
knowledge
of
this
reached
a
finality
,
a
finishing
in
her
.
And
the
finality
released
her
.
If
fate
would
carry
off
in
death
or
downfall
all
those
who
were
timed
to
go
,
why
need
she
trouble
,
why
repudiate
any
further
.
She
was
free
of
it
all
,
she
could
seek
a
new
union
elsewhere
.
Ursula
set
off
to
Willey
Green
,
towards
the
mill
.
She
came
to
Willey
Water
.
It
was
almost
full
again
,
after
its
period
of
emptiness
.
Then
she
turned
off
through
the
woods
.
The
night
had
fallen
,
it
was
dark
.
But
she
forgot
to
be
afraid
,
she
who
had
such
great
sources
of
fear
.
Among
the
trees
,
far
from
any
human
beings
,
there
was
a
sort
of
magic
peace
.
The
more
one
could
find
a
pure
loneliness
,
with
no
taint
of
people
,
the
better
one
felt
.
She
was
in
reality
terrified
,
horrified
in
her
apprehension
of
people
.
She
started
,
noticing
something
on
her
right
hand
,
between
the
tree
trunks
.
It
was
like
a
great
presence
,
watching
her
,
dodging
her
.
She
started
violently
.
It
was
only
the
moon
,
risen
through
the
thin
trees
.
But
it
seemed
so
mysterious
,
with
its
white
and
deathly
smile
.
And
there
was
no
avoiding
it
.
Night
or
day
,
one
could
not
escape
the
sinister
face
,
triumphant
and
radiant
like
this
moon
,
with
a
high
smile
.
She
hurried
on
,
cowering
from
the
white
planet
.
She
would
just
see
the
pond
at
the
mill
before
she
went
home
.
Not
wanting
to
go
through
the
yard
,
because
of
the
dogs
,
she
turned
off
along
the
hill-side
to
descend
on
the
pond
from
above
.
The
moon
was
transcendent
over
the
bare
,
open
space
,
she
suffered
from
being
exposed
to
it
.
There
was
a
glimmer
of
nightly
rabbits
across
the
ground
.
The
night
was
as
clear
as
crystal
,
and
very
still
.
She
could
hear
a
distant
coughing
of
a
sheep
.
So
she
swerved
down
to
the
steep
,
tree-hidden
bank
above
the
pond
,
where
the
alders
twisted
their
roots
.
She
was
glad
to
pass
into
the
shade
out
of
the
moon
.
There
she
stood
,
at
the
top
of
the
fallen-away
bank
,
her
hand
on
the
rough
trunk
of
a
tree
,
looking
at
the
water
,
that
was
perfect
in
its
stillness
,
floating
the
moon
upon
it
.
But
for
some
reason
she
disliked
it
.
It
did
not
give
her
anything
.
She
listened
for
the
hoarse
rustle
of
the
sluice
.
And
she
wished
for
something
else
out
of
the
night
,
she
wanted
another
night
,
not
this
moon-brilliant
hardness
.
She
could
feel
her
soul
crying
out
in
her
,
lamenting
desolately
.
She
saw
a
shadow
moving
by
the
water
.
It
would
be
Birkin
.
He
had
come
back
then
,
unawares
.
She
accepted
it
without
remark
,
nothing
mattered
to
her
.
She
sat
down
among
the
roots
of
the
alder
tree
,
dim
and
veiled
,
hearing
the
sound
of
the
sluice
like
dew
distilling
audibly
into
the
night
.
The
islands
were
dark
and
half
revealed
,
the
reeds
were
dark
also
,
only
some
of
them
had
a
little
frail
fire
of
reflection
.
A
fish
leaped
secretly
,
revealing
the
light
in
the
pond
.
This
fire
of
the
chill
night
breaking
constantly
on
to
the
pure
darkness
,
repelled
her
.
She
wished
it
were
perfectly
dark
,
perfectly
,
and
noiseless
and
without
motion
.
Birkin
,
small
and
dark
also
,
his
hair
tinged
with
moonlight
,
wandered
nearer
.
He
was
quite
near
,
and
yet
he
did
not
exist
in
her
.
He
did
not
know
she
was
there
.
Supposing
he
did
something
he
would
not
wish
to
be
seen
doing
,
thinking
he
was
quite
private
?
But
there
,
what
did
it
matter
?
What
did
the
small
privacies
matter
?
How
could
it
matter
,
what
he
did
?
How
can
there
be
any
secrets
,
we
are
all
the
same
organisms
?
How
can
there
be
any
secrecy
,
when
everything
is
known
to
all
of
us
?
He
was
touching
unconsciously
the
dead
husks
of
flowers
as
he
passed
by
,
and
talking
disconnectedly
to
himself
.
“
You
can’t
go
away
,
”
he
was
saying
.
“
There
is
no
away
.
You
only
withdraw
upon
yourself
.
”
He
threw
a
dead
flower-husk
on
to
the
water
.
“
An
antiphony
—
they
lie
,
and
you
sing
back
to
them
.
There
wouldn’t
have
to
be
any
truth
,
if
there
weren’t
any
lies
.
Then
one
needn’t
assert
anything
—
”
He
stood
still
,
looking
at
the
water
,
and
throwing
upon
it
the
husks
of
the
flowers
.
“
Cybele
—
curse
her
!
The
accursed
Syria
Dea
!
Does
one
begrudge
it
her
?
What
else
is
there
—
?
”
Ursula
wanted
to
laugh
loudly
and
hysterically
,
hearing
his
isolated
voice
speaking
out
.
It
was
so
ridiculous
.
He
stood
staring
at
the
water
.
Then
he
stooped
and
picked
up
a
stone
,
which
he
threw
sharply
at
the
pond
.
Ursula
was
aware
of
the
bright
moon
leaping
and
swaying
,
all
distorted
,
in
her
eyes
.
It
seemed
to
shoot
out
arms
of
fire
like
a
cuttle-fish
,
like
a
luminous
polyp
,
palpitating
strongly
before
her
.
And
his
shadow
on
the
border
of
the
pond
,
was
watching
for
a
few
moments
,
then
he
stooped
and
groped
on
the
ground
.
Then
again
there
was
a
burst
of
sound
,
and
a
burst
of
brilliant
light
,
the
moon
had
exploded
on
the
water
,
and
was
flying
asunder
in
flakes
of
white
and
dangerous
fire
.
Rapidly
,
like
white
birds
,
the
fires
all
broken
rose
across
the
pond
,
fleeing
in
clamorous
confusion
,
battling
with
the
flock
of
dark
waves
that
were
forcing
their
way
in
.
The
furthest
waves
of
light
,
fleeing
out
,
seemed
to
be
clamouring
against
the
shore
for
escape
,
the
waves
of
darkness
came
in
heavily
,
running
under
towards
the
centre
.
But
at
the
centre
,
the
heart
of
all
,
was
still
a
vivid
,
incandescent
quivering
of
a
white
moon
not
quite
destroyed
,
a
white
body
of
fire
writhing
and
striving
and
not
even
now
broken
open
,
not
yet
violated
.
It
seemed
to
be
drawing
itself
together
with
strange
,
violent
pangs
,
in
blind
effort
.
It
was
getting
stronger
,
it
was
re-asserting
itself
,
the
inviolable
moon
.
And
the
rays
were
hastening
in
in
thin
lines
of
light
,
to
return
to
the
strengthened
moon
,
that
shook
upon
the
water
in
triumphant
reassumption
.
Birkin
stood
and
watched
,
motionless
,
till
the
pond
was
almost
calm
,
the
moon
was
almost
serene
.
Then
,
satisfied
of
so
much
,
he
looked
for
more
stones
.
She
felt
his
invisible
tenacity
.
And
in
a
moment
again
,
the
broken
lights
scattered
in
explosion
over
her
face
,
dazzling
her
;
and
then
,
almost
immediately
,
came
the
second
shot
.
The
moon
leapt
up
white
and
burst
through
the
air
.
Darts
of
bright
light
shot
asunder
,
darkness
swept
over
the
centre
.
There
was
no
moon
,
only
a
battlefield
of
broken
lights
and
shadows
,
running
close
together
.
Shadows
,
dark
and
heavy
,
struck
again
and
again
across
the
place
where
the
heart
of
the
moon
had
been
,
obliterating
it
altogether
.
The
white
fragments
pulsed
up
and
down
,
and
could
not
find
where
to
go
,
apart
and
brilliant
on
the
water
like
the
petals
of
a
rose
that
a
wind
has
blown
far
and
wide
.
Yet
again
,
they
were
flickering
their
way
to
the
centre
,
finding
the
path
blindly
,
enviously
.
And
again
,
all
was
still
,
as
Birkin
and
Ursula
watched
.
The
waters
were
loud
on
the
shore
.
He
saw
the
moon
regathering
itself
insidiously
,
saw
the
heart
of
the
rose
intertwining
vigorously
and
blindly
,
calling
back
the
scattered
fragments
,
winning
home
the
fragments
,
in
a
pulse
and
in
effort
of
return
.
And
he
was
not
satisfied
.
Like
a
madness
,
he
must
go
on
.
He
got
large
stones
,
and
threw
them
,
one
after
the
other
,
at
the
white-burning
centre
of
the
moon
,
till
there
was
nothing
but
a
rocking
of
hollow
noise
,
and
a
pond
surged
up
,
no
moon
any
more
,
only
a
few
broken
flakes
tangled
and
glittering
broadcast
in
the
darkness
,
without
aim
or
meaning
,
a
darkened
confusion
,
like
a
black
and
white
kaleidoscope
tossed
at
random
.
The
hollow
night
was
rocking
and
crashing
with
noise
,
and
from
the
sluice
came
sharp
,
regular
flashes
of
sound
.
Flakes
of
light
appeared
here
and
there
,
glittering
tormented
among
the
shadows
,
far
off
,
in
strange
places
;
among
the
dripping
shadow
of
the
willow
on
the
island
.
Birkin
stood
and
listened
and
was
satisfied
.
Ursula
was
dazed
,
her
mind
was
all
gone
.
She
felt
she
had
fallen
to
the
ground
and
was
spilled
out
,
like
water
on
the
earth
.
Motionless
and
spent
she
remained
in
the
gloom
.
Though
even
now
she
was
aware
,
unseeing
,
that
in
the
darkness
was
a
little
tumult
of
ebbing
flakes
of
light
,
a
cluster
dancing
secretly
in
a
round
,
twining
and
coming
steadily
together
.
They
were
gathering
a
heart
again
,
they
were
coming
once
more
into
being
.
Gradually
the
fragments
caught
together
re-united
,
heaving
,
rocking
,
dancing
,
falling
back
as
in
panic
,
but
working
their
way
home
again
persistently
,
making
semblance
of
fleeing
away
when
they
had
advanced
,
but
always
flickering
nearer
,
a
little
closer
to
the
mark
,
the
cluster
growing
mysteriously
larger
and
brighter
,
as
gleam
after
gleam
fell
in
with
the
whole
,
until
a
ragged
rose
,
a
distorted
,
frayed
moon
was
shaking
upon
the
waters
again
,
re-asserted
,
renewed
,
trying
to
recover
from
its
convulsion
,
to
get
over
the
disfigurement
and
the
agitation
,
to
be
whole
and
composed
,
at
peace
.
Birkin
lingered
vaguely
by
the
water
.
Ursula
was
afraid
that
he
would
stone
the
moon
again
.
She
slipped
from
her
seat
and
went
down
to
him
,
saying
:
“
You
won’t
throw
stones
at
it
any
more
,
will
you
?
”
“
How
long
have
you
been
there
?
”
“
All
the
time
.
You
won’t
throw
any
more
stones
,
will
you
?
”
“
I
wanted
to
see
if
I
could
make
it
be
quite
gone
off
the
pond
,
”
he
said
.
“
Yes
,
it
was
horrible
,
really
.
Why
should
you
hate
the
moon
?
It
hasn’t
done
you
any
harm
,
has
it
?
”
“
Was
it
hate
?
”
he
said
.
And
they
were
silent
for
a
few
minutes
.
“
When
did
you
come
back
?
”
she
said
.
“
Today
.
”
“
Why
did
you
never
write
?
”
“
I
could
find
nothing
to
say
.
”
“
Why
was
there
nothing
to
say
?
”
“
I
don’t
know
.
Why
are
there
no
daffodils
now
?
”
“
No.
”
Again
there
was
a
space
of
silence
.
Ursula
looked
at
the
moon
.
It
had
gathered
itself
together
,
and
was
quivering
slightly
.
“
Was
it
good
for
you
,
to
be
alone
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Perhaps
.
Not
that
I
know
much
.
But
I
got
over
a
good
deal
.
Did
you
do
anything
important
?
”
“
No.
I
looked
at
England
,
and
thought
I’d
done
with
it
.
”
“
Why
England
?
”
he
asked
in
surprise
.
“
I
don’t
know
,
it
came
like
that
.
”
“
It
isn’t
a
question
of
nations
,
”
he
said
.
“
France
is
far
worse
.
”
“
Yes
,
I
know
.
I
felt
I’d
done
with
it
all
.
”
They
went
and
sat
down
on
the
roots
of
the
trees
,
in
the
shadow
.
And
being
silent
,
he
remembered
the
beauty
of
her
eyes
,
which
were
sometimes
filled
with
light
,
like
spring
,
suffused
with
wonderful
promise
.
So
he
said
to
her
,
slowly
,
with
difficulty
:
“
There
is
a
golden
light
in
you
,
which
I
wish
you
would
give
me
.
”
It
was
as
if
he
had
been
thinking
of
this
for
some
time
.
She
was
startled
,
she
seemed
to
leap
clear
of
him
.
Yet
also
she
was
pleased
.
“
What
kind
of
a
light
,
”
she
asked
.
But
he
was
shy
,
and
did
not
say
any
more
.
So
the
moment
passed
for
this
time
.
And
gradually
a
feeling
of
sorrow
came
over
her
.
“
My
life
is
unfulfilled
,
”
she
said
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
answered
briefly
,
not
wanting
to
hear
this
.
“
And
I
feel
as
if
nobody
could
ever
really
love
me
,
”
she
said
.
But
he
did
not
answer
.
“
You
think
,
don’t
you
,
”
she
said
slowly
,
“
that
I
only
want
physical
things
?
It
isn’t
true
.
I
want
you
to
serve
my
spirit
.
”
“
I
know
you
do
.
I
know
you
don’t
want
physical
things
by
themselves
.
But
,
I
want
you
to
give
me
—
to
give
your
spirit
to
me
—
that
golden
light
which
is
you
—
which
you
don’t
know
—
give
it
me
—
”
After
a
moment’s
silence
she
replied
:
“
But
how
can
I
,
you
don’t
love
me
!
You
only
want
your
own
ends
.
You
don’t
want
to
serve
me
,
and
yet
you
want
me
to
serve
you
.
It
is
so
one-sided
!
”
It
was
a
great
effort
to
him
to
maintain
this
conversation
,
and
to
press
for
the
thing
he
wanted
from
her
,
the
surrender
of
her
spirit
.
“
It
is
different
,
”
he
said
.
“
The
two
kinds
of
service
are
so
different
.
I
serve
you
in
another
way
—
not
through
yourself
—
somewhere
else
.
But
I
want
us
to
be
together
without
bothering
about
ourselves
—
to
be
really
together
because
we
are
together
,
as
if
it
were
a
phenomenon
,
not
a
not
a
thing
we
have
to
maintain
by
our
own
effort
.
”
“
No
,
”
she
said
,
pondering
.
“
You
are
just
egocentric
.
You
never
have
any
enthusiasm
,
you
never
come
out
with
any
spark
towards
me
.
You
want
yourself
,
really
,
and
your
own
affairs
.
And
you
want
me
just
to
be
there
,
to
serve
you
.
”
But
this
only
made
him
shut
off
from
her
.
“
Ah
well
,
”
he
said
,
“
words
make
no
matter
,
any
way
.
The
thing
is
between
us
,
or
it
isn’t
.
”
“
You
don’t
even
love
me
,
”
she
cried
.
“
I
do
,
”
he
said
angrily
.
“
But
I
want
—
”
His
mind
saw
again
the
lovely
golden
light
of
spring
transfused
through
her
eyes
,
as
through
some
wonderful
window
.
And
he
wanted
her
to
be
with
him
there
,
in
this
world
of
proud
indifference
.
But
what
was
the
good
of
telling
her
he
wanted
this
company
in
proud
indifference
.
What
was
the
good
of
talking
,
any
way
?
It
must
happen
beyond
the
sound
of
words
.
It
was
merely
ruinous
to
try
to
work
her
by
conviction
.
This
was
a
paradisal
bird
that
could
never
be
netted
,
it
must
fly
by
itself
to
the
heart
.
“
I
always
think
I
am
going
to
be
loved
—
and
then
I
am
let
down
.
You
don’t
love
me
,
you
know
.
You
don’t
want
to
serve
me
.
You
only
want
yourself
.
”
A
shiver
of
rage
went
over
his
veins
,
at
this
repeated
:
“
You
don’t
want
to
serve
me
.
”
All
the
paradisal
disappeared
from
him
.
“
No
,
”
he
said
,
irritated
,
“
I
don’t
want
to
serve
you
,
because
there
is
nothing
there
to
serve
.
What
you
want
me
to
serve
,
is
nothing
,
mere
nothing
.
It
isn’t
even
you
,
it
is
your
mere
female
quality
.
And
I
wouldn’t
give
a
straw
for
your
female
ego
—
it’s
a
rag
doll
.
”
“
Ha
!
”
she
laughed
in
mockery
.
“
That’s
all
you
think
of
me
,
is
it
?
And
then
you
have
the
impudence
to
say
you
love
me
.
”
She
rose
in
anger
,
to
go
home
.
You
want
the
paradisal
unknowing
,
”
she
said
,
turning
round
on
him
as
he
still
sat
half-visible
in
the
shadow
.
“
I
know
what
that
means
,
thank
you
.
You
want
me
to
be
your
thing
,
never
to
criticise
you
or
to
have
anything
to
say
for
myself
.
You
want
me
to
be
a
mere
thing
for
you
!
No
thank
you
!
If
you
want
that
,
there
are
plenty
of
women
who
will
give
it
to
you
.
There
are
plenty
of
women
who
will
lie
down
for
you
to
walk
over
them
—
go
to
them
then
,
if
that’s
what
you
want
—
go
to
them
.
”
“
No
,
”
he
said
,
outspoken
with
anger
.
“
I
want
you
to
drop
your
assertive
will
,
your
frightened
apprehensive
self-insistence
,
that
is
what
I
want
.
I
want
you
to
trust
yourself
so
implicitly
,
that
you
can
let
yourself
go
.
”
“
Let
myself
go
!
”
she
re-echoed
in
mockery
.
“
I
can
let
myself
go
,
easily
enough
.
It
is
you
who
can’t
let
yourself
go
,
it
is
you
who
hang
on
to
yourself
as
if
it
were
your
only
treasure
.
You
—
you
are
the
Sunday
school
teacher
—
You
—
you
preacher
.
”
The
amount
of
truth
that
was
in
this
made
him
stiff
and
unheeding
of
her
.
“
I
don’t
mean
let
yourself
go
in
the
Dionysic
ecstatic
way
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
know
you
can
do
that
.
But
I
hate
ecstasy
,
Dionysic
or
any
other
.
It’s
like
going
round
in
a
squirrel
cage
.
I
want
you
not
to
care
about
yourself
,
just
to
be
there
and
not
to
care
about
yourself
,
not
to
insist
—
be
glad
and
sure
and
indifferent
.
”
“
Who
insists
?
”
she
mocked
.
“
Who
is
it
that
keeps
on
insisting
?
It
isn’t
me
!
”
There
was
a
weary
,
mocking
bitterness
in
her
voice
.
He
was
silent
for
some
time
.
“
I
know
,
”
he
said
.
“
While
ever
either
of
us
insists
to
the
other
,
we
are
all
wrong
.
But
there
we
are
,
the
accord
doesn’t
come
.
”
They
sat
in
stillness
under
the
shadow
of
the
trees
by
the
bank
.
The
night
was
white
around
them
,
they
were
in
the
darkness
,
barely
conscious
.
Gradually
,
the
stillness
and
peace
came
over
them
.
She
put
her
hand
tentatively
on
his
.
Their
hands
clasped
softly
and
silently
,
in
peace
.
“
Do
you
really
love
me
?
”
she
said
.
He
laughed
.
“
I
call
that
your
war-cry
,
”
he
replied
,
amused
.
“
Why
!
”
she
cried
,
amused
and
really
wondering
.
“
Your
insistence
—
Your
war-cry
—
“
A
Brangwen
,
A
Brangwen
”
—
an
old
battle-cry
.
Yours
is
,
‘Do
you
love
me
?
Yield
knave
,
or
die.’
”
“
No
,
”
she
said
,
pleading
,
“
not
like
that
.
Not
like
that
.
But
I
must
know
that
you
love
me
,
mustn’t
I
?
”
“
Well
then
,
know
it
and
have
done
with
it
.
”
“
But
do
you
?
”
“
Yes
,
I
do
.
I
love
you
,
and
I
know
it’s
final
.
It
is
final
,
so
why
say
any
more
about
it
.
”
She
was
silent
for
some
moments
,
in
delight
and
doubt
.
“
Are
you
sure
?
”
she
said
,
nestling
happily
near
to
him
.
“
Quite
sure
—
so
now
have
done
—
accept
it
and
have
done
.
”
She
was
nestled
quite
close
to
him
.
“
Have
done
with
what
?
”
she
murmured
,
happily
.
“
With
bothering
,
”
he
said
.
She
clung
nearer
to
him
.
He
held
her
close
,
and
kissed
her
softly
,
gently
.
It
was
such
peace
and
heavenly
freedom
,
just
to
fold
her
and
kiss
her
gently
,
and
not
to
have
any
thoughts
or
any
desires
or
any
will
,
just
to
be
still
with
her
,
to
be
perfectly
still
and
together
,
in
a
peace
that
was
not
sleep
,
but
content
in
bliss
.
To
be
content
in
bliss
,
without
desire
or
insistence
anywhere
,
this
was
heaven
:
to
be
together
in
happy
stillness
.
For
a
long
time
she
nestled
to
him
,
and
he
kissed
her
softly
,
her
hair
,
her
face
,
her
ears
,
gently
,
softly
,
like
dew
falling
.
But
this
warm
breath
on
her
ears
disturbed
her
again
,
kindled
the
old
destructive
fires
.
She
cleaved
to
him
,
and
he
could
feel
his
blood
changing
like
quicksilver
.
“
But
we’ll
be
still
,
shall
we
?
”
he
said
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
,
as
if
submissively
.
And
she
continued
to
nestle
against
him
.
But
in
a
little
while
she
drew
away
and
looked
at
him
.
“
I
must
be
going
home
,
”
she
said
.
“
Must
you
—
how
sad
,
”
he
replied
.
She
leaned
forward
and
put
up
her
mouth
to
be
kissed
.
“
Are
you
really
sad
?
”
she
murmured
,
smiling
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
said
,
“
I
wish
we
could
stay
as
we
were
,
always
.
”
“
Always
!
Do
you
?
”
she
murmured
,
as
he
kissed
her
.
And
then
,
out
of
a
full
throat
,
she
crooned
“
Kiss
me
!
Kiss
me
!
”
And
she
cleaved
close
to
him
.
He
kissed
her
many
times
.
But
he
too
had
his
idea
and
his
will
.
He
wanted
only
gentle
communion
,
no
other
,
no
passion
now
.
So
that
soon
she
drew
away
,
put
on
her
hat
and
went
home
.
The
next
day
however
,
he
felt
wistful
and
yearning
.
He
thought
he
had
been
wrong
,
perhaps
.
Perhaps
he
had
been
wrong
to
go
to
her
with
an
idea
of
what
he
wanted
.
Was
it
really
only
an
idea
,
or
was
it
the
interpretation
of
a
profound
yearning
?
If
the
latter
,
how
was
it
he
was
always
talking
about
sensual
fulfilment
?
The
two
did
not
agree
very
well
.
Suddenly
he
found
himself
face
to
face
with
a
situation
.
It
was
as
simple
as
this
:
fatally
simple
.
On
the
one
hand
,
he
knew
he
did
not
want
a
further
sensual
experience
—
something
deeper
,
darker
,
than
ordinary
life
could
give
.
He
remembered
the
African
fetishes
he
had
seen
at
Halliday’s
so
often
.
There
came
back
to
him
one
,
a
statuette
about
two
feet
high
,
a
tall
,
slim
,
elegant
figure
from
West
Africa
,
in
dark
wood
,
glossy
and
suave
.
It
was
a
woman
,
with
hair
dressed
high
,
like
a
melon-shaped
dome
.
He
remembered
her
vividly
:
she
was
one
of
his
soul’s
intimates
.
Her
body
was
long
and
elegant
,
her
face
was
crushed
tiny
like
a
beetle’s
,
she
had
rows
of
round
heavy
collars
,
like
a
column
of
quoits
,
on
her
neck
.
He
remembered
her
:
her
astonishing
cultured
elegance
,
her
diminished
,
beetle
face
,
the
astounding
long
elegant
body
,
on
short
,
ugly
legs
,
with
such
protuberant
buttocks
,
so
weighty
and
unexpected
below
her
slim
long
loins
.
She
knew
what
he
himself
did
not
know
.
She
had
thousands
of
years
of
purely
sensual
,
purely
unspiritual
knowledge
behind
her
.
It
must
have
been
thousands
of
years
since
her
race
had
died
,
mystically
:
that
is
,
since
the
relation
between
the
senses
and
the
outspoken
mind
had
broken
,
leaving
the
experience
all
in
one
sort
,
mystically
sensual
.
Thousands
of
years
ago
,
that
which
was
imminent
in
himself
must
have
taken
place
in
these
Africans
:
the
goodness
,
the
holiness
,
the
desire
for
creation
and
productive
happiness
must
have
lapsed
,
leaving
the
single
impulse
for
knowledge
in
one
sort
,
mindless
progressive
knowledge
through
the
senses
,
knowledge
arrested
and
ending
in
the
senses
,
mystic
knowledge
in
disintegration
and
dissolution
,
knowledge
such
as
the
beetles
have
,
which
live
purely
within
the
world
of
corruption
and
cold
dissolution
.
This
was
why
her
face
looked
like
a
beetle’s
:
this
was
why
the
Egyptians
worshipped
the
ball-rolling
scarab
:
because
of
the
principle
of
knowledge
in
dissolution
and
corruption
.
There
is
a
long
way
we
can
travel
,
after
the
death-break
:
after
that
point
when
the
soul
in
intense
suffering
breaks
,
breaks
away
from
its
organic
hold
like
a
leaf
that
falls
.
We
fall
from
the
connection
with
life
and
hope
,
we
lapse
from
pure
integral
being
,
from
creation
and
liberty
,
and
we
fall
into
the
long
,
long
African
process
of
purely
sensual
understanding
,
knowledge
in
the
mystery
of
dissolution
.
He
realised
now
that
this
is
a
long
process
—
thousands
of
years
it
takes
,
after
the
death
of
the
creative
spirit
.
He
realised
that
there
were
great
mysteries
to
be
unsealed
,
sensual
,
mindless
,
dreadful
mysteries
,
far
beyond
the
phallic
cult
.
How
far
,
in
their
inverted
culture
,
had
these
West
Africans
gone
beyond
phallic
knowledge
?
Very
,
very
far
.
Birkin
recalled
again
the
female
figure
:
the
elongated
,
long
,
long
body
,
the
curious
unexpected
heavy
buttocks
,
the
long
,
imprisoned
neck
,
the
face
with
tiny
features
like
a
beetle’s
.
This
was
far
beyond
any
phallic
knowledge
,
sensual
subtle
realities
far
beyond
the
scope
of
phallic
investigation
.
There
remained
this
way
,
this
awful
African
process
,
to
be
fulfilled
.
It
would
be
done
differently
by
the
white
races
.
The
white
races
,
having
the
arctic
north
behind
them
,
the
vast
abstraction
of
ice
and
snow
,
would
fulfil
a
mystery
of
ice-destructive
knowledge
,
snow-abstract
annihilation
.
Whereas
the
West
Africans
,
controlled
by
the
burning
death-abstraction
of
the
Sahara
,
had
been
fulfilled
in
sun-destruction
,
the
putrescent
mystery
of
sun-rays
.
Was
this
then
all
that
remained
?
Was
there
left
now
nothing
but
to
break
off
from
the
happy
creative
being
,
was
the
time
up
?
Is
our
day
of
creative
life
finished
?
Does
there
remain
to
us
only
the
strange
,
awful
afterwards
of
the
knowledge
in
dissolution
,
the
African
knowledge
,
but
different
in
us
,
who
are
blond
and
blue-eyed
from
the
north
?
Birkin
thought
of
Gerald
.
He
was
one
of
these
strange
white
wonderful
demons
from
the
north
,
fulfilled
in
the
destructive
frost
mystery
.
And
was
he
fated
to
pass
away
in
this
knowledge
,
this
one
process
of
frost-knowledge
,
death
by
perfect
cold
?
Was
he
a
messenger
,
an
omen
of
the
universal
dissolution
into
whiteness
and
snow
?
Birkin
was
frightened
.
He
was
tired
too
,
when
he
had
reached
this
length
of
speculation
.
Suddenly
his
strange
,
strained
attention
gave
way
,
he
could
not
attend
to
these
mysteries
any
more
.
There
was
another
way
,
the
way
of
freedom
.
There
was
the
paradisal
entry
into
pure
,
single
being
,
the
individual
soul
taking
precedence
over
love
and
desire
for
union
,
stronger
than
any
pangs
of
emotion
,
a
lovely
state
of
free
proud
singleness
,
which
accepted
the
obligation
of
the
permanent
connection
with
others
,
and
with
the
other
,
submits
to
the
yoke
and
leash
of
love
,
but
never
forfeits
its
own
proud
individual
singleness
,
even
while
it
loves
and
yields
.
There
was
the
other
way
,
the
remaining
way
.
And
he
must
run
to
follow
it
.
He
thought
of
Ursula
,
how
sensitive
and
delicate
she
really
was
,
her
skin
so
over-fine
,
as
if
one
skin
were
wanting
.
She
was
really
so
marvellously
gentle
and
sensitive
.
Why
did
he
ever
forget
it
?
He
must
go
to
her
at
once
.
He
must
ask
her
to
marry
him
.
They
must
marry
at
once
,
and
so
make
a
definite
pledge
,
enter
into
a
definite
communion
.
He
must
set
out
at
once
and
ask
her
,
this
moment
.
There
was
no
moment
to
spare
.
He
drifted
on
swiftly
to
Beldover
,
half-unconscious
of
his
own
movement
.
He
saw
the
town
on
the
slope
of
the
hill
,
not
straggling
,
but
as
if
walled-in
with
the
straight
,
final
streets
of
miners’
dwellings
,
making
a
great
square
,
and
it
looked
like
Jerusalem
to
his
fancy
.
The
world
was
all
strange
and
transcendent
.
Rosalind
opened
the
door
to
him
.
She
started
slightly
,
as
a
young
girl
will
,
and
said
:
“
Oh
,
I’ll
tell
father
.
”
With
which
she
disappeared
,
leaving
Birkin
in
the
hall
,
looking
at
some
reproductions
from
Picasso
,
lately
introduced
by
Gudrun
.
He
was
admiring
the
almost
wizard
,
sensuous
apprehension
of
the
earth
,
when
Will
Brangwen
appeared
,
rolling
down
his
shirt
sleeves
.
“
Well
,
”
said
Brangwen
,
“
I’ll
get
a
coat
.
”
And
he
too
disappeared
for
a
moment
.
Then
he
returned
,
and
opened
the
door
of
the
drawing-room
,
saying
:
“
You
must
excuse
me
,
I
was
just
doing
a
bit
of
work
in
the
shed
.
Come
inside
,
will
you
.
”
Birkin
entered
and
sat
down
.
He
looked
at
the
bright
,
reddish
face
of
the
other
man
,
at
the
narrow
brow
and
the
very
bright
eyes
,
and
at
the
rather
sensual
lips
that
unrolled
wide
and
expansive
under
the
black
cropped
moustache
.
How
curious
it
was
that
this
was
a
human
being
!
What
Brangwen
thought
himself
to
be
,
how
meaningless
it
was
,
confronted
with
the
reality
of
him
.
Birkin
could
see
only
a
strange
,
inexplicable
,
almost
patternless
collection
of
passions
and
desires
and
suppressions
and
traditions
and
mechanical
ideas
,
all
cast
unfused
and
disunited
into
this
slender
,
bright-faced
man
of
nearly
fifty
,
who
was
as
unresolved
now
as
he
was
at
twenty
,
and
as
uncreated
.
How
could
he
be
the
parent
of
Ursula
,
when
he
was
not
created
himself
.
He
was
not
a
parent
.
A
slip
of
living
flesh
had
been
transmitted
through
him
,
but
the
spirit
had
not
come
from
him
.
The
spirit
had
not
come
from
any
ancestor
,
it
had
come
out
of
the
unknown
.
A
child
is
the
child
of
the
mystery
,
or
it
is
uncreated
.
“
The
weather’s
not
so
bad
as
it
has
been
,
”
said
Brangwen
,
after
waiting
a
moment
.
There
was
no
connection
between
the
two
men
.
“
No
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
It
was
full
moon
two
days
ago
.
”
“
Oh
!
You
believe
in
the
moon
then
,
affecting
the
weather
?
”
“
No
,
I
don’t
think
I
do
.
I
don’t
really
know
enough
about
it
.
”
“
You
know
what
they
say
?
The
moon
and
the
weather
may
change
together
,
but
the
change
of
the
moon
won’t
change
the
weather
.
”
“
Is
that
it
?
”
said
Birkin
.
“
I
hadn’t
heard
it
.
”
There
was
a
pause
.
Then
Birkin
said
:
“
Am
I
hindering
you
?
I
called
to
see
Ursula
,
really
.
Is
she
at
home
?
”
“
I
don’t
believe
she
is
.
I
believe
she’s
gone
to
the
library
.
I’ll
just
see
.
”
Birkin
could
hear
him
enquiring
in
the
dining-room
.
“
No
,
”
he
said
,
coming
back
.
“
But
she
won’t
be
long
.
You
wanted
to
speak
to
her
?
”
Birkin
looked
across
at
the
other
man
with
curious
calm
,
clear
eyes
.
“
As
a
matter
of
fact
,
”
he
said
,
“
I
wanted
to
ask
her
to
marry
me
.
”
A
point
of
light
came
on
the
golden-brown
eyes
of
the
elder
man
.
“
O-oh
?
”
he
said
,
looking
at
Birkin
,
then
dropping
his
eyes
before
the
calm
,
steadily
watching
look
of
the
other
:
“
Was
she
expecting
you
then
?
”
“
No
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
No
?
I
didn’t
know
anything
of
this
sort
was
on
foot
—
”
Brangwen
smiled
awkwardly
.
Birkin
looked
back
at
him
,
and
said
to
himself
:
“
I
wonder
why
it
should
be
‘on
foot’
!
”
Aloud
he
said
:
“
No
,
it’s
perhaps
rather
sudden
.
”
At
which
,
thinking
of
his
relationship
with
Ursula
,
he
added
—
“
but
I
don’t
know
—
”
“
Quite
sudden
,
is
it
?
Oh
!
”
said
Brangwen
,
rather
baffled
and
annoyed
.
“
In
one
way
,
”
replied
Birkin
,
“
—
not
in
another
.
”
There
was
a
moment’s
pause
,
after
which
Brangwen
said
:
“
Well
,
she
pleases
herself
—
”
“
Oh
yes
!
”
said
Birkin
,
calmly
.
A
vibration
came
into
Brangwen’s
strong
voice
,
as
he
replied
:
“
Though
I
shouldn’t
want
her
to
be
in
too
big
a
hurry
,
either
.
It’s
no
good
looking
round
afterwards
,
when
it’s
too
late
.
”
“
Oh
,
it
need
never
be
too
late
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
as
far
as
that
goes
.
”
“
How
do
you
mean
?
”
asked
the
father
.
“
If
one
repents
being
married
,
the
marriage
is
at
an
end
,
”
said
Birkin
.
“
You
think
so
?
”
“
Yes
.
”
“
Ay
,
well
that
may
be
your
way
of
looking
at
it
.
”
Birkin
,
in
silence
,
thought
to
himself
:
“
So
it
may
.
As
for
your
way
of
looking
at
it
,
William
Brangwen
,
it
needs
a
little
explaining
.
”
“
I
suppose
,
”
said
Brangwen
,
“
you
know
what
sort
of
people
we
are
?
What
sort
of
a
bringing-up
she’s
had
?
”
“
‘She’
,
”
thought
Birkin
to
himself
,
remembering
his
childhood’s
corrections
,
“
is
the
cat’s
mother
.
”
“
Do
I
know
what
sort
of
a
bringing-up
she’s
had
?
”
he
said
aloud
.
He
seemed
to
annoy
Brangwen
intentionally
.
“
Well
,
”
he
said
,
“
she’s
had
everything
that’s
right
for
a
girl
to
have
—
as
far
as
possible
,
as
far
as
we
could
give
it
her
.
”
“
I’m
sure
she
has
,
”
said
Birkin
,
which
caused
a
perilous
full-stop
.
The
father
was
becoming
exasperated
.
There
was
something
naturally
irritant
to
him
in
Birkin’s
mere
presence
.
“
And
I
don’t
want
to
see
her
going
back
on
it
all
,
”
he
said
,
in
a
clanging
voice
.
“
Why
?
”
said
Birkin
.
This
monosyllable
exploded
in
Brangwen’s
brain
like
a
shot
.
“
Why
!
I
don’t
believe
in
your
new-fangled
ways
and
new-fangled
ideas
—
in
and
out
like
a
frog
in
a
gallipot
.
It
would
never
do
for
me
.
”
Birkin
watched
him
with
steady
emotionless
eyes
.
The
radical
antagnoism
in
the
two
men
was
rousing
.
“
Yes
,
but
are
my
ways
and
ideas
new-fangled
?
”
asked
Birkin
.
“
Are
they
?
”
Brangwen
caught
himself
up
.
“
I’m
not
speaking
of
you
in
particular
,
”
he
said
.
“
What
I
mean
is
that
my
children
have
been
brought
up
to
think
and
do
according
to
the
religion
I
was
brought
up
in
myself
,
and
I
don’t
want
to
see
them
going
away
from
that
.
”
There
was
a
dangerous
pause
.
“
And
beyond
that
—
?
”
asked
Birkin
.
The
father
hesitated
,
he
was
in
a
nasty
position
.
“
Eh
?
What
do
you
mean
?
All
I
want
to
say
is
that
my
daughter
”
—
he
tailed
off
into
silence
,
overcome
by
futility
.
He
knew
that
in
some
way
he
was
off
the
track
.
“
Of
course
,
”
said
Birkin
,
“
I
don’t
want
to
hurt
anybody
or
influence
anybody
.
Ursula
does
exactly
as
she
pleases
.
”
There
was
a
complete
silence
,
because
of
the
utter
failure
in
mutual
understanding
.
Birkin
felt
bored
.
Her
father
was
not
a
coherent
human
being
,
he
was
a
roomful
of
old
echoes
.
The
eyes
of
the
younger
man
rested
on
the
face
of
the
elder
.
Brangwen
looked
up
,
and
saw
Birkin
looking
at
him
.
His
face
was
covered
with
inarticulate
anger
and
humiliation
and
sense
of
inferiority
in
strength
.
“
And
as
for
beliefs
,
that’s
one
thing
,
”
he
said
.
“
But
I’d
rather
see
my
daughters
dead
tomorrow
than
that
they
should
be
at
the
beck
and
call
of
the
first
man
that
likes
to
come
and
whistle
for
them
.
”
A
queer
painful
light
came
into
Birkin’s
eyes
.
“
As
to
that
,
”
he
said
,
“
I
only
know
that
it’s
much
more
likely
that
it’s
I
who
am
at
the
beck
and
call
of
the
woman
,
than
she
at
mine
.
”
Again
there
was
a
pause
.
The
father
was
somewhat
bewildered
.
“
I
know
,
”
he
said
,
“
she’ll
please
herself
—
she
always
has
done
.
I’ve
done
my
best
for
them
,
but
that
doesn’t
matter
.
They’ve
got
themselves
to
please
,
and
if
they
can
help
it
they’ll
please
nobody
but
themselves
.
But
she’s
a
right
to
consider
her
mother
,
and
me
as
well
—
”
Brangwen
was
thinking
his
own
thoughts
.
“
And
I
tell
you
this
much
,
I
would
rather
bury
them
,
than
see
them
getting
into
a
lot
of
loose
ways
such
as
you
see
everywhere
nowadays
.
I’d
rather
bury
them
—
”
“
Yes
but
,
you
see
,
”
said
Birkin
slowly
,
rather
wearily
,
bored
again
by
this
new
turn
,
“
they
won’t
give
either
you
or
me
the
chance
to
bury
them
,
because
they’re
not
to
be
buried
.
”
Brangwen
looked
at
him
in
a
sudden
flare
of
impotent
anger
.
“
Now
,
Mr
Birkin
,
”
he
said
,
“
I
don’t
know
what
you’ve
come
here
for
,
and
I
don’t
know
what
you’re
asking
for
.
But
my
daughters
are
my
daughters
—
and
it’s
my
business
to
look
after
them
while
I
can
.
”
Birkin’s
brows
knitted
suddenly
,
his
eyes
concentrated
in
mockery
.
But
he
remained
perfectly
stiff
and
still
.
There
was
a
pause
.
“
I’ve
nothing
against
your
marrying
Ursula
,
”
Brangwen
began
at
length
.
“
It’s
got
nothing
to
do
with
me
,
she’ll
do
as
she
likes
,
me
or
no
me
.
”
Birkin
turned
away
,
looking
out
of
the
window
and
letting
go
his
consciousness
.
After
all
,
what
good
was
this
?
It
was
hopeless
to
keep
it
up
.
He
would
sit
on
till
Ursula
came
home
,
then
speak
to
her
,
then
go
away
.
He
would
not
accept
trouble
at
the
hands
of
her
father
.
It
was
all
unnecessary
,
and
he
himself
need
not
have
provoked
it
.
The
two
men
sat
in
complete
silence
,
Birkin
almost
unconscious
of
his
own
whereabouts
.
He
had
come
to
ask
her
to
marry
him
—
well
then
,
he
would
wait
on
,
and
ask
her
.
As
for
what
she
said
,
whether
she
accepted
